Dragonborn from Lord of the Rings

Chapter 285 A message from...

The flames of the explosion lit up the night, and the loud noise startled all the hunters and their prey in the city who were active at this time, causing them to flap their wings and flee in panic. The small piece of ground where the assassin had stood was now only pitch black, as if both the person and his shadow had disappeared without a trace, leaving no trace even of steam.

But the two elven archmages from the Psijic Order did not relax at all. Narion could even be sure that before his fireball hit the dangerous assassin, the enemy disappeared in front of their eyes in a disturbing way, turning into a phantom.

"careful!"

The high elf suddenly shouted.

At that moment, Narion felt as if he was being stared at by a poisonous snake, and his back was almost instantly wet with cold sweat. If someone stood behind him at this moment, they would find that countless goose bumps quickly appeared on the back of the dark elf's neck.

He didn't even have time to figure out what was happening.

The assassin fell from the void, and the dagger in his hand launched a fatal blow to his companion like a venomous snake.

"No!"

Quaranil knew that if he didn't do something, the assassin's blade would cut Nerion's throat in the next moment, and the blood would splash onto the white snowflakes. Although he didn't know where the assassin who had been monitoring and eavesdropping on them got such dangerous power, at that moment, Quaranil knew that the other party could do it! Even though Nerion was protected by armor and the flame cloak, the high elves took action.

  He cast a spell at almost the fastest speed he could!

The effect of this spell was so incredible that the assassin, who was supposed to break through the multiple protective spells of the Archmage Narion and cut open his soft throat, stopped with his hands in mid-air, his one eye filled with black mist, almost becoming real! His sharp blade had even cut through the dark skin of the mage, entered the muscles inside, and was ready to cut the throat of the dark elf!

And his prey, the dark elf wizard, had bulging eyes and a look of fear.

Their expressions were so lifelike, but they were all like stone sculptures, motionless! And further away, in a corner where the city guards used to avoid the cold wind and keep warm, in a brazier that should have been burning fiercely and dancing wantonly in the air, the red flames seemed to be frozen, frozen in the cold night.

It seemed as if time and space were imprisoned by some force at this moment.

A figure took a few cautious steps forward, checked and breathed a sigh of relief. Quaranil carefully removed the assassin's stiff hands and saved his companion from the blade of death.

※※※※※

Almost at the moment when the elven wizard cast his spell, Turka sensed something: This was a scene that mortals could not understand! Look! The wind was telling him something happily in his ears, the starlight was showing him the scene in the form of light and shadow, allowing him to "witness" what happened, and the earth was gently emitting some kind of fluctuation in a way that mortals could not understand, as if telling Turka what kind of damage the earth had suffered in this incident...

  So, at that moment, Turka understood that as he mastered the "Promise" (faith), Nirn (planet), even Mundus (galaxy), and Orbis (universe) began to truly "accept" him, and the authority of the world was opening up to him!

And this change, whether good or bad, is rapidly intensifying!

  Of course, the wind is not a person, its sound is more like whispering, and you need to carefully distinguish it to get accurate information from it; the light and shadow transmitted by the stars are frame by frame, some are continuous, and some are just a confusing picture without beginning or end; and the occurrence and end of this change are not under his control?

Turka frowned. He recognized one of them: Well, that bastard got into trouble again? He looked miserable. He even used the power of the demon god... He deserved it...

  Turka was not even a bit surprised that Nargis had once again thrown himself into the arms of the God of Murder. The One-Eyed Assassin was just that kind of person, someone who would do anything to stay alive. And that was a demon god, how many mortals in Tamriel could resist the power of a powerful Lord of Oblivion?

What really concerns Turka is...

  Is this time standing still?! Who did this bastard offend?

Turka always felt that the wizard's strange clothes were strangely familiar. He carefully discerned the message conveyed by the wind, Se... Yi... Ke? Hmm?

A Psijic... Order?

Elf!

After a strange combination of words, it finally emerged in Turka's mind! Combined with the inexplicably familiar clothes on the mage, a wave of dead memories began to attack Turka. In a trance, Turka seemed to have returned to a certain summer, when he seemed to be playing a certain game in front of the computer.

What's the plot?

  Turka began to think, wondering whether these sudden appearance of elves would be a stumbling block or an accelerator to his future plans!

at the same time.

Tangdis Savius, who was originally immersed in joy and happiness, was suddenly stunned. He was confused at first, then ecstatic, and finally, he knelt down devoutly and made a gesture of praising the gods, "Your will will be implemented!"

Then he said to his panicked wife, "Don't worry, I'll be out for a while! Don't wait for me, you go to sleep first!" After that, the old farmer ignored his wife and turned to leave the inn.

He ran through street corners and intersections, avoiding patrolling guards and drunken hooligans. His movements were clumsy but resolute, and his expression was alert but confident! It can be seen that the young old farmer must have a story of his time!

Tang Disi ran in the night, carefully identifying what he saw, as if comparing it with some pictures. Suddenly, he found something, and he turned his head to look in one direction and continued running. This process was not easy, because he not only needed to find the right route in the maze-like streets and alleys and the high and low stone steps of Markarth, but also had to avoid more and more patrolling guards.

Of course, there was a force that always protected Tang Disi. It might be a gust of wind that blinded the guards, or a cloud that blocked the starlight, allowing Tang Disi to hide in the darkness. Sometimes, it was an inexplicable sound that startled the stumbling drunkard, and the moment he turned his head, Tang Disi quickly ran past him.

Dondis Savius' heart was beating very fast. He knew that it was God who was watching him.

So he ran faster.

After running for an unknown amount of time, Dondis Savius ​​suddenly stopped.

An old stone house appeared in front of him, which was similar to other stone houses in Markarth. The house was gray in color, with a long chimney extending along the flat wall to the higher roof. A shutter that seemed to be not well maintained was making a slight creaking sound under the whistling of the north wind. The weak light shone through the cracks in the wood, adding a touch of warmth to this house that looked a bit gloomy. The short and high steps were full of swill, emitting the unique stench that now permeated the entire city.

Most of the neighbors are the same! The old shutters, high stone steps, heavy wooden doors, and dim lights make up the scene of Markarth, a dilapidated city that has just experienced a massacre.

At one point, Dondis blinked in doubt, wondering if he had found the wrong place. But soon, he shook off this almost blasphemous thought, muttered a few words in panic, and calmed down.

It was not until this moment that he realized that his face was hot and his breathing was rapid; his steps were heavy as stones and his lungs were burning from the rapid running. Although he wanted to take as many steps as possible, what he wanted more was to lie down and relax the muscles and bones that were groaning all over his body.

  But he knew that this was not okay! God had sent him here to exercise some kind of authority. If he lay on the ground like those lowly old dogs in the stinking sewers! Not to mention that adult, even he himself would not forgive himself!

So he breathed slowly, straightened his waist which was slightly hunched from years of farm work, walked forward and knocked on the door.