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日志


6月25日

Who says I've been idle

"Sorrell!" Dalmara almost cried out when her husband finally came back to their small house. "Thank Gods, you are back! Allen is…" Feeling something wrong with the man she had known since childhood, she staggered with her words. Sorrell had his head slightly bowed; his blue eyes blazed in barely contained fury while his lips twisted in an almost mad grin.
"What is it?" Dalmara carefully asked, but received no answer. Her husband seemed to be lost in his thoughts, and the woman felt her mouth going try. "My love?"
With startling speed, Sorrell snapped his head up, looking at his wife as if noting her presence for the first time, and all expressions on his face vanished without trace. "What?" he asked with all the innocence Dalmara had ever seen.
"You… I mean… Allen, he’s been sleeping for all day." Dalmara found the words with some difficulty. "He opened his eyes several times but wouldn’t eat." Pausing for a moment, she added: "Do you think this has something to do with…you know, what we saw yesterday, before they came?"
"I don’t know." Sorrell answered bluntly.
"Are you all right, my love?" Dalmara asked with no small alarm. "You feel strange…"
"I’m fine." The husband said expressionlessly. "I met Mal in the street. He called me Sore, like he did when we were still friends."
"…And?" Waiting for something more but receiving none, the wife prompted. But that’s all Sorrell would say, as he turned away and sat on a chair, silent.
 
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In a small and dark room on the second floor of the building adjacent to where Sorrell and Dalmara lived, a young man in black leather leaned over the window, overlooking the street and searching for anything worth special attention.
Summers in this city were always dominated by the flaming orb brought into the world of Toril by Selune before the creation of life. And the powerful walls of Zhentil Keep, thick and tall, made things worse by blocking the cool wind from the Moonsea. This particular room faired no better with most of its windows always closed, so the young man's long black hair clung to his head, soaked by sweat.
Still, though constantly tempted, he kept the habit of never taking off his armor, on which his colleague had made more than a few unpleasant comments. "Never caught off guard by special things", he explained to his fellow spy each time, and was always retorted by "No such thing will come our way, wistful dog". Having served in the Zhentarim for more than five years, and having survived on the hostile streets of Zhentil Keep for his two decades, this man knew full well how quickly things could turn ugly and bloody. The situation may change faster than the mood of Unberlee.
And now, the special thing finally came in the form of three men, one of whom was seldomly seen anywhere outside his hidden stronghold.
"By the Ebony Sunshine…" he murmured in surprise.
"What did you say?" His partner, wearing only a blue shirt, asked with narrowed eyes.
"I said by the Lord’s Son, we have some unexpected guests." The man smoothly corrected.
"What? Who?" The other man was mildly interested.
"Come look for yourself." The armored spy moved away from the half opened window. "I would find out your leather if I were you. We should prepare for trouble." Drawing his dagger and checking the straps of his armor, the man did as he suggested.
"You sensitive rat," his partner retorted, "A mere city guard can make you go tense like a bow string." Drowsily he made his way to the window and glimpsed at the street below. Seeing what drew the attention of the "sensitive rat", his reaction was just as agitated.
"By the six hundred and sixty-six layers of the Abyss, that’s the Imperceptor himself, or I’m a dead man! We must inform…" His words died in his throat with a wet gurgle, as his companion buried a dagger in his back to the hilt in one fluent motion.
"And you are a dead man." The rogue in leather corrected coldly, and twisted his blade, left and right. "But you are right, we must inform someone." Letting his hated comrade crumble face down onto the floor, the spy removed his seemingly worthless ring, then whispered a word to it, and the ring enlarged into a circle of copper wire. Considering for a moment his choice of words, he said through the circle: "The Imperceptor comes to Sorrell, in the house now, three of them, no extra escort in sight, need reinforcement at position twenty-nine." Having two more words allowed to say, he added: "Make haste!" And with its magic exhausted, the copper wire crumbled to dust.
Fulfilling his duty, the man dragged the corpse away and crouched behind the window, waiting impatiently. "Now we get you, old dog." He murmured to himself. "What a lucky day for me…"
"Lucky indeed." A cold voice sounded behind the rogue, carrying with it a self-assured sense of power and state. Turning back slowly, the spy saw a man in his fifties, dressed in an ornate robe of black and gold, his hands folded behind his back.
The Archmage himself had come.
"Your highness." The rogue forgot his place for an instance, and hastily knelt on one knee. "I’m honored…"
"Get up. We have no time for that." Manshoon said with a wave of his hand, and the younger man hesitantly stood. "I consider the respect I receive from my lessers only a reminder of whom they are, anyway." Looking into the spy’s eyes, he asked: "You are sure of what you saw?"
The rogue, though experienced with the deceits and intimates of the underworld, could only nod enthusiastically under the unnerving gaze. "Y…yes, my lord, it is him."
"Good." The Archmage returned an approving nod. Nudging the corpse with his boot, the wizard asked: "And this?"
Encouraged by the hard-earned praise, the rogue answered proudly, "Another finger lost to the Black Hand."
"Well done." Manshoon grinned in cold malice, "Now, let’s hack off the thumb."
"Command me, Lord Archmage." The spy asked eagerly, his words thick with anticipation. "My blade is yours."
"Indeed, and I expect no less." The founder of the Black Network answered cooly. After a moment's consideration, he slowly nodded. "They still know you as one of the Network and would expect no treachery if you give them an existing one. Enter the house with haste and alarm the Imperceptor of Sorrell betraying them to the Church of Cyric."
"But are they going to believe me, with Sorrell himself in presence, certainly able to counter my words?" The spy carefully expressed his doubt.
"They will. An agent of mine has seen to it." Manshoon answered with uttermost confidence."Just remember to call him Sore, his nickname. Once you have their complete trust, whatever happens, try your best to keep them in the house. I will summon reinforcements and lead the final attack myself." Putting an ice-cold hand on the shoulder of the rogue, the Archmage said solemnly: "But our success all depends on yours, soldier. You must not fail me."
"I shall not, my lord." Despite the invulontary shudder brought to him by physical contact with Manshoon, the spy assured the wizard with all the seriousness and enthusiasm he could muster.
"Now go." Manshoon waved dismissively, turning away from his pawn to stare through the window down at the tiny house. Hurriedly the rogue retrieved his dagger from the back of his former comrade, wiped it clean on the disgusting blue shirt, and sped away to do the archmage's bidding. He felt light-headed, the rush of events left him little time to consider his action carefully, and suddenly he feared he would fail the ruthless wizard and suffer a fate unimaginable to a petty thief.
No. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself. Fooling his partner had been easy, so fooling another bunch of Xvim worshipers wouldn't be too difficult. All he needed to do was talk to them and slip away when his comrades charge in. Perhaps he could remain a spy in the network of spies after all these and, who knows, maybe play a role in the downfall of Fzoul himself.
Before he could dwell long on the pleasant thought of twisting a poisoned dagger in the gut of the hated Fzoul, the rogue found himself in front of his destination, the tiny, insignificant house, where someone's life would end while his own glorious future would begin. Fighting down an impulse to glance back up at where he crouched moments ago, in fear of irritating the Archmage, he rehearsed one of the routine lies prepared by experienced guys in the Network for spies like him, for emergency situations like this. Taking another deep breath, he knocked on the door, twice, once, twice, clear but urgent.
The door opened almost instantly and, to the spy's surprise, it was the Imperceptor himself who stood behind it. Arms crossed in front of his chest, just above the Eye of the Tyrant symbol on his breast plate, the powerful cleric stared at the unexpected visitor. It was obviously a feat of both courage and zeal that a worshiper of Xvim dared, regardless of his status in the Black Hand's clergy, carry such a symbol openly on the streets of Zhentarim Keep, an action considered blasphemy by the Dark Sun church. And Cyric himself had made it clear that blasphemy could only be met with agonizing death.
The spy was never very keen with religion, and his worship of Cyric was barely skin-deep. However, when his gaze fell on the emerald, lidless eye symbol, he still felt a surge of anger, and a sudden impulse to scream and claw at the man he was supposed to deceive and deter. Fighting down such ridiculous feelings with slight difficulty, he quickly glanced into the room beyond the wooden door. Dim light from a small window barely lit the tiny space, while the four men and a women seemed to fill every bit of it. Dalmara and Sorrell were easily recognized. With four tendays of spying on them it would have been quite difficult to mistake the petty couple for someone else. The husband was sitting on one of the two crudely crafted chairs in their possession, while the other one was for the moment unoccupied, obviously reserved for the Imperceptor. Strange, that Sorrell, more peasant than priest, could have gathered so much insolence to sit as equals with the most powerful cleric of the Order of Xvim.
Something important and complicated was taking place here, the rogue had no doubt. However, he couldn't spare any bit of his wits to unravel anything deeper. But no secret was going to remain so for very long, anyway. In perhaps a hundred-count the room would be filled with magical energy, and there would be no hope of escape for the heretics of Xvim, nor for their secrets.
"Drake?" The high priest's expression changed from initial surprise and confusion to anger. "By the Gauntlet of Bane, what are you doing here?" A quick glance up and down the street found no sign of hostile eyes, Gillian pulled the spy into the room and slammed the door shut.
"You are not supposed to make any report in this fashion, Drake." The Imperceptor glared at the rogue. "What is it?"
"I..." Suddenly realizing he was called by his mission code, the spy felt another wave of uncertainty. Few knew his mission code, and surely not Gillian himself. And yet the Imperceptor called him by that code almost without thinking. This by itself was nothing, but if Gillian could get to know the supposedly secret mission code, then maybe he could know something more. What if the Imperceptor knew his true identity as a servant of Cyric? What if all these were the components of a trap designed to capture him? What if the Archmage was a fake, sending him to his doom? Numerous possibilities swirled in his brain, making him want to scream.
"Quit fooling around and speak, or I'll inquire your mind by myself." Gillian quickly lost patience. The words snapped the rouge back to reality, but with half his mind blank and the other half a mess, he lost the elaborate and flawless lie he had been practicing. Instead the spy only managed to speak with a weak voice: "I eh...he is...betrayer! Sore will betray you! He is in truth..." But before he could continue with his pathetic accussion, Sorrell suddenly burst like a volcano. The petty worshiper of Xvim seemed to be daydreaming all the while and just awakened. Like a cornered beast, he fixed a pair of crazy eyes first on the spy, then on the Imperceptor. As if realizing the identity of the high priest for the first time, his body stiffened, his hands clutched into fists, and his eyes widened even more. With a foaming mouth, which made Sorrell identical to a mad dog, he bellowed in primal rage and exclaimed: "The Dark Sun burn you to ash!"
Startled silence filled the room, a flicker of alarm flahed on the face of the Imperceptor. He started to make for the door, but it was too late.
The room became an inferno.
 
*******************************************************************************
 
Manshoon watched as Gillian pulled the petty spy into the house of the petty couple, and gave the ignorant boy a headstart of twenty counts, then he began to cast.
First he chanted a powerful abjuration, and a sphere of prismatic color sprung into being, obscuring everything within ten paces from his body from any outside influence or divination. Following it was a equally powerful transmutation, one that forced time to cease its flow. Halfway through the spellcasting, the Archmage produced a tiny hourglass from the folds of his ornate robe and tossed it into the air. Instead of free-falling to the ground, the hourglass floated, fully five feet from hitting the floor, suspended by some invisible force. When his chanting reached its peak and the spell took effect, the sand in the hourglass ceased to flow, a wild dog wandering in front of the building froze in mid-step, and the annoying dust on the street was no longer stirred by the hot breeze.
Knowing the time stop wouldn't last long, Manshoon continued his spellcasting. With the rapidness and precision that only a master of the Art could achieve, he called into being five tiny flaming orbs. The pea-sized fiery balls floated before his hands in a row, ready to shoot out of the room, sail through the air, pass the small window, into the house of their victims, and detonate together with roaring flame and powerful explosion. Unlike ordinary fireballs accessible to any middle level spellcasters, each of these were augmented to piece almost any ward, be it powered by arcane or divine source. They also bore more magical energy than the original spell, and would deal the most terrible damage possible. No one could survive his trap. Not even myself, if unprepared, Manshoon thought with amusement. But then, he was always prepared.
With one last spell to cast, the Archmage waited for the time stop effect to terminate. When it did, the sand in the hourglass suddenly began flowing anew, and the flaming orbs shot forth with unerring precision and startling speed. Quickly calculating the perfect moment, Manshoon waited a little longer, then summoned primal arcane power inside the home of Sorrell, and shaped it to hug every inch of the house from within. The altered wall of force materialized barely an instant after the fireballs entered the building, assuring the destruction to be known only to the Archmage, and of course, those unfortunate individuals caught within.
As he intended, the outside world was oblivious to the devastating explosion, a telltale bright flash coming out of the tiny window was the only clue, but no one was close enough and careful enough to notice.
With a satisfied grin, the Archmage of Zhentil Keep murmured a conjuration, and a brilliant door, composed of pure light, opened behind him. Turning around, Manshoon muttered: "Good job, soldier." Then he stepped through the doorway and vanished.
 
*******************************************************************************
 
Allen awakened from a strange dream of entwined blue-white light and shadow into a world of bright light and roaring flame. He had never seen or felt anything like this, but he knew it hurt a bit. The air was too warm and the flare stung his eyes. Flame surrounded him, but when he extended his hand to touch the tongues of fire, they were extinguished, only to resume their dance.
When his curiosity played out, he realized his mom and dad were nowhere to be seen.
And there was someone else, seemingly everywhere, above and below and around. Allen twisted his small head to look this way and that, looking for his parents as well as the unseen being. Though most of the room was painfully bright, the flame threw shadows here and there. And these shadows congregated and formed a figure.
It was a woman with purple eyes, her gaze more piercing than a rapier. She wore no cloth, but her flowing black hair covered her form like a cloak, and her exposed skin was black and smooth like obsidian. She was taller than Allen's mother, but seemed to occupy much more space, and the room felt too small to contain her.
The woman knelt in front of Allen, a cold smile on her lips. Allen looked into her dark pupils and saw nothing. Or rather, nothingness.
"Look at this." The woman whispered sadly, "What have they done to a pretty boy."
"Are you aunt Swan?" Allen asked. His father told him many stories of his aunt Swan, a very brave and powerful magical woman who saved the world many times.
"No, my dear." The woman replied. "But I'm here to help you. Bad people want to hurt you. They hurt your dad and mom. But they can't hurt you now."
"You can help dad and mom too?" Allen felt nervous when he thought about his parents. Where are they?
"I will try. But you must also help me."
"I help you. I'm very strong." Allen promised.
"Yes, you are, my dear." The woman nodded. "Now I have to leave. You have given me your word. When I call, you will answer."
 
11月27日

乱想的

这个学期实在是让人没法不懒惰。。。再过两周没了物化实验,就真没什么能让人略微紧张的课了。背着本本去生化做笔记,在记载了前辈足迹的课件上补充一些细胞和发育的细节,然后在微生物课上忧愁地不知道干什么。似乎大家本能地看重生化,对细胞也有一些尊重,喜欢听发育老师(我们某个高中校友的老爸)瞎扯,然后忽略微生物——于是寝室里一位兄弟(AFK等WLK的牛头猎人)一周只上三节课,包括体育。
说到体育,我的3000成功在15分以内跑完了,居然是我游泳班里最后一个……老师看着我说:“不像啊。。。”我说:“估计是长错了。”
不知道为什么,体能测试各指标通常都不错(下周检验一下),为啥结果体育课考的那几样里我就跳远还行呢。
早上起来冲了杯卡布基诺,拿橙子苹果当早餐,一边听郭德纲一边上网。突发奇想到大家空间上转了一圈,勤奋的同学们还是很能更新,懒惰的同学们依旧和我一样,哈哈。不过看完了,有些自己也写一篇的冲动。于是压抑住看发育的想法,开始写了。倒也不是喜欢看发育,不过捧着一本教材埋头看啊看,可以什么都不用想,不知不觉时间就过去了,反而挺轻松。要是前几周或许会看小说,不过新买的两本龙枪解决了,关于小雷的第三本也没看到卖,《魔晶仆从》已经开始第三遍了……现在似乎对小崔的思想斗争和道德议题兴趣不大,反倒是更喜欢其他“正统”黑暗精灵的东西。真邪恶。。。
前两天把JAY历史上各盘专辑里喜欢听的歌放到一起,建立了一个快三个小时的播放列表。个人品位吧,反正我是喜欢把东风破,七里香,青花瓷,菊花台,发如雪,珊瑚海,简单爱连一起听。
记得听简单爱的时候还是初中,记得那时候的万智牌。红绿火的横冲直撞,人鱼唱反调的冷静控制,动荡阿托格的一招清场,黑绿掘坟里闪耀的蕾亚。那时候还能看到的反抗军现在已经是古老的东西了。还记得两套蓝色反击内战时为了一个小东西你来我往拼掉所有手牌,宏大的战争有时候也是为了不值一提的小事吧。
高中的时候喜欢在写完作业后一边听七里香一边看读者。现在买来的读者往往翻了两下就忘记了。杂志没变,是我变了。
刚才在校内看到一个投票,选自己最喜欢的时间段。我觉得是高中吧。初中只能记得是傻乎乎的,小学就更不用提了。至于大学……或许以后回忆起来会变成最好的时光,但起码现在感觉不是那么好。
一直认为,九班更适合我。有时候会想如果高一的时候就来了九班,会怎么样呢?无法给自己下定论,高一那一年如何——虽然很多事情逐渐忘记了,但是很多感觉还记得。只能说……那一年很独特吧。
高中的时候还是个笨贼,下副本经常ADD,即使去MC金团打怪OT了也不消失,跟防骑PK毫无悬念地输,一身赞达拉狂妄者就很满足了。
现在已经是个举着盾往前冲的骑士(一边向前跑一边开神盾的动作挺好看),副本刷到提不起兴趣,海山去抗了一次也觉得不过如此而已,在战场里喜欢恶心对面的贼。
大家都是小白那会儿也挺快乐的。
崇拜着T3,而不是觉得T6稀松平常的那会儿也不错。
看到游侠有时候因为网络问题而掉线,想起来我以前会因为机器受不了华丽的场面而掉线。游侠在世界和小风都70后(好象是吧?)终于70了,想起来我的贼一路刺杀慢慢地往上蹭。看到游侠的蓝梅冰把午夜当小怪啃了一口,想起来为了爱与家庭去偷画结果把档案员当小怪闷棍。看到游侠被防骑插旗子打败,想起来我当年也一次又一次地跪在这个防骑面前。
Alas, how mournful it is to see what happened to me happen to you...
很期待WLK,因为历史的重演。帝陨,饥饿之寒,毁灭的黎明,似乎因为它们喜欢纳克萨玛斯。尤其是那把叫King's Fall的匕首,中文名字很棒。于是期待新的纳克萨玛斯,期待Harbinger of Doom的姊妹篇Forerunner of Ruin。
记得等TBC的时候还是有很多事情可干的,至少一周一次祖格金团不能耽误。但是现在……渐渐失去了兴趣。例行卡拉赞只是个小聚会,况且看着小号迅猛成长起来也有些难得的乐趣。终于拿到了金洛斯后对祖阿曼已经没什么感觉,曾经以为与自己无缘的地方已经失去了新鲜感。完成天堂之路上防骑的工作后就松了一口气,也没有了那一点兴奋。天天晚上定时来排队的“工作”我也干不了。
于是开始DOTA,可能因为这能让我全神贯注吧。
这种时候就会想念博德之门。一个让我对那些人物对话只管按空格的RPG产生鄙视的游戏。
这种时候也会想念魔戒。电影总能让我静下心来,即使是三百那种很不安静的电影。很久很久没看了,但是一切都还记得,觉得这就行啦。
大家开始考虑毕业后的事情了啊……(我知道这跳跃有点大。。。没办法,乱想的)很庆幸,学长和老师们一句“咱们系的同学大部分都要出国深造”替我做了决定。于是要考G和T(一贼一德,呃……),要找实验室,觉得真是个麻烦的事情。
于是先不想了,跳开。
跳开之后发现,自己开始发呆了。看来现在的思维每天是有上限的,想多了就没了……下午看发育罢,实验报告估计是没法写了。
我的坑什么时候能填上呢?某天在InklingII心血来潮,居然构思了一个三部曲,真要命。当初就三小段,现在写一节要自己没事看N遍才贴出来,不知道它和我哪个先OVER……况且现在还类似DNA复制过程,分段进行,但愿最后能连起来。
饿了,吃饭去。
10月27日

“公正王权之争”——佣兵三部曲

“公正王权之争”,来自佣兵三部曲。

一些背景:Damara曾被很多公爵统治,Gareth作为一个公爵的后代统一了这里,并努力维持国家的稳定,同时希望把蛮荒的Vassa也纳入境内。Entreri和Jarlaxle所称王的城堡在Vassa的一个半兽人城镇Palishchuk附近。在前一本书中二人参与了探索这座凭空出现的城堡,最终击败龙巫妖的冒险。Ellery Dragonsbane是Gareth的侄女,却被Gareth最大的敌人,the Citadel of Assasins(首领是Timoshenko,估计是卡拉图人)所控制。她挑选了一支小队,包括她自己,两个Citadel of Assasins的杀手,Entreri和Jarlaxle,Olwen的徒弟Mariabronne,两个Palishchuk的半兽人以及另两个士兵,进入城堡。最终Ellery欲杀Jarlaxle未果,死在Entreri匕首下。Citadel of Assasins的两个杀手,一个被Entreri所杀,另一个被迫背弃了自己的组织。Entreri和Jarlaxle利用一些魔法物品击败了龙巫妖。

Entreri和Jarlaxle击败龙巫妖后被King Gareth Dragonsbane册封为骑士,而深不可测的Jarlaxle却把Entreri拖下水,在龙巫妖曾经占据的城堡中自立为王,并宣称周围的土地,包括附近的城镇Palishchuk,是他们的领地。这招来King Gareth的愤怒,这位在传说中曾经在地狱中追逐恶魔领主奥库斯的圣骑士国王和他强大的朋友一起(黄玫瑰武僧Kane,吟游诗人Riordan,游荡者以及现任间谍大师Celedon,Ilmater牧师Dugald,游侠Olwen以及王后Christine)征讨Entreri和Jarlaxle。卓尔通过传送门离开,回到幽暗地域,刺客拒绝回到那里,留在城堡。Entreri遇到进入城堡的Olwen,击败了他,希望以他为人质,但中了Kane的穿震掌,于是被制服。下面是对他审讯的部分,其中Entreri另人有些难以反驳地指控一个圣骑士国王没有正当的权力称王。觉得写得挺精彩,虽然翻译出来的效果应该远不及原文。

 

 

向着他在Bloodstone Village的宫殿主厅走去,King Gareth可以听到对Artemis Entreri的审问已经开始了。他瞥了一眼走在身旁的妻子,但Lady Christine保持着那种让Gareth感到无比熟悉的钢铁般目光直视前方。很明显,即将到来的那场对某个前任国王的起诉并没有像困扰着Gareth一样让她感到不安。

“而且你声称对于那些挂毯,以及那个我们在王座上发现的卷轴毫不知情?”他听到Celedon问道。

“拜托,理智一些。”间谍大师继续着。“这可能会减轻你的罪行。”

“让我的死亡更舒适一些?”Entreri回答道,他话语中的刻毒让Gareth皱起眉头。

他推开主厅的大门,看到在王座前台阶下面铺陈的地毯上站着Entreri。Dugald修士和Riordan Parnell坐在台阶上,而Kane则站在旁边。Celedon在Entreri身边踱步,和那刺客保持着相当的距离。

很多守卫肃立在地毯的两边。

Dugald和Riordan看到国王和王后的到来,站了起来,所有人都躬身行礼。

Gareth几乎没有注意到他们。他紧紧盯着Entreri,并在那刺客的双眼中看到了他所体验过的最饱含恨意的目光,以及甚至超越了Zhengyi本人所能达到的轻蔑。他走向自己的王座,一直保持着对那个人的凝视。

“他表示那些挂毯不是他的手笔。”Dugald修士对国王解释道。

“而且他自称对于那卷轴毫不知情。”Riordan补充说。

“他说的是真话?”Gareth问道。

“我没有检测到任何谎言。”那牧师回答。

“我为什么要撒谎?”Entreri说。“那样你们就可以推翻它,然后在你们扭曲的内心证明自己行为的正当性?”

Celedon似乎准备上前教训这个无礼的囚犯,但Gareth抬起手示意他退后。

“你对我们的意图有很多假设。”国王说道。

“在我一生中我见过太多的King Gareth……”

“那不大可能。”Riordan评论道,但Entreri连看都没有看一眼他,而是将目光锁定在Damara的国王身上。

“……那些人攫取着被他们声称是正当地属于他们的东西。”Entreri继续说道,就好象Riordan根本没有说话一样——而Gareth可以看出来,至少对于这个让人迷惑的外乡人而言,Riordan确实没有说话。

“小心你的言论。”Lady Christine插话了,而所有眼睛,包括Entreri的,都转向她。“Gareth Dragonsbane是正当的国王。”

“毫无疑问,这是每个国王都需要作出的声明。”

“杀了这个蠢货,把这事情解决掉。”一个声音在大厅入口响起。Gareth的目光离开Entreri,看到Olwen走进房间。那游侠停下脚步深鞠一躬,然后继续上前。当他径直走到距离那囚犯仅一步之遥时,一边得意地笑着一边对Entreri低声说了什么。

但他幸灾乐祸的表情只保持了两步,而后Entreri评论道:“如果在战斗中被击败后,你的感情就会受到如此大的伤害,那么或许你应该努力强化你的技术。”

“Olwen,放松些。”Gareth看到那暴躁的游侠瞪大了双眼后警告道。

Olwen还是迅速转过身去,而从Celedon迈开一步的动作Gareth感觉他就会在此时此刻扑上去。

但Entreri仅仅向他轻蔑地一哼。

“我们是理智的人,生活在危险的年代。”当Olwen终于走开之后Gareth对Entreri说。“有很多事情需要了解——”

“你怀疑我丈夫拥有这王座的权力?”Lady Christine打断道。

Gareth把手放在她腿上,让她冷静下来。

“你的神祉本尊都会来反驳我,毫无疑问。”Entreri说。“就像每一个国王自己选择的神祉一样。”

“他的血统是——”Christine开始回答。

“无关紧要的!”Entreri大喊。“宣称天赐王权仅仅是一种操纵手段,不是对正当权力的保证。”

“你这个无礼的傻瓜!”Christine挺拔地站起来,向前一步,大喊着反驳。“血统还是作为——你来选!无论如何,Gareth都是正当的国王。”

“而我则入侵了正当地属于他的领地?”

“没错!”

“Damara之王还是Vassa之王?”

“二者都是!”Christine坚持道。

“你还真有些有趣的血统,Gareth——”

Celedon走上前去抽了他一巴掌,“Gareth国王”,他更正道。

“你的血统也延伸到Palishchuk吗?”Entreri问道。Gareth无法相信他是多么彻底地忽视了Celedon粗鲁的干涉。“让你成为Vassa之王的是你的血统?”(Palishchuk是个半兽人城镇)

“是他的作为。”走到气急败坏的Dugald修士身前,Kane说道。

“于是军事力量成为称王的权力。”Entreri推理道。“那么我们又回到了开始的地方,在我一生中我见过太多的King Gareth。”

“谁把我的剑拿来。”王后说。

“我的女士,请坐下。”Gareth说。而后面对Entreri,“声称Vassa为自己领地的是你,Artemis王。”

 看到Entreri翻起眼睛,Gareth进一步证明了他的假设。那个卓尔,Jarlaxle,是真正作出这个声明的人。

“我宣称拥有自己所征服的东西。”Entreri回答。“最终打败了龙巫妖的人是我,所以……”他微笑着转向Christine,“是的,我的女士,凭我的作为,我宣称拥有一个正当地属于我的王座。”他转回来面对Gareth说完了他的话。“难道我对于那座城堡以及附近土地的占有权和你的相比有任何的不合理吗?”

“好吧,你现在被锁在这里,而他依旧是国王。”Riordan说。

“军事力量,蠢货大师,军事力量。”

“噢,你们能不能就让我杀了他把这事情了解掉?”Olwen恳求着。

对于Gareth,他们仿佛全都不存在于这个房间里。

“你在Bloodstone的旗帜下进入那座城堡。”Celedon提醒那个囚犯。

“也和Citadel of Assassins的成员一起。”Entreri愤怒地反击。

“以及一位Army of Bloodstone的指挥……”

“而就是她带上了Timoshenko的手下!”在Celedon话还没说完的时候Entreri就怒气冲冲地反驳道。“也是她在城堡中,在最黑暗的时刻里,背叛了我们。”他转身直面Gareth。“你的侄女Ellery是被我的剑所杀。”他的话引起身边人的一片惊呼。“那并非我故意所为,并且是在她没有理由地攻击Jarlaxle之后——没有适合她国王的理由,但却有适合她那些来自Citadel of Assassins的主人的理由。”

“真是些美妙的声明。”Olwen低吼着说。

“难道你也在现场?”Entreri马上反击。

“那么Mariabronne呢?”Olwen质问道。“他也和我们的敌人结成了盟友?这是你想要说的吗?”

“我所说的没有任何地方涉及到他。他在离开大家独自前进的时候倒在了邪恶生物的手下。”

“但我们在龙巫妖的房间里找到了他。”Riordan说。

“我们当时需要一切可以获得的帮助。”

“你是说他被复活了,但却又一次牺牲了?”Riordan问道。

“或者是被唤起了。”Dugald修士接着说。“而你当然知道唤起一个正义之人的尸体是对一切公正和善良所犯下的罪行。对破碎之神所犯下的罪行!”(Ilmater被称为破碎之神,the Broken God)

Entreri瞪着Dugald,眯起眼睛,微笑着向地上啐了一口。“不是我的神。”他解释道。

Celedon冲过去猛击他一拳。他身体一晃,退了一步,但却拒绝倒下。

“Gareth是国王,无论凭借血统还是作为!”Dugald大喊。“被Ilmater亲自选定!”

“就像每一个卓尔主母都宣称自己被罗丝所祝福一样!”那顽固的囚犯吼道。

“我主Ilmater夺你性命!”Lady Christine高喊。

“拿你的剑来替他取我的命,”Entreri毫不示弱。“或者拿上你的剑,再把我的剑也拿来,然后我们就会知道谁的神更强大!”

Celedon正准备再次击打他,但却突然停了下来,因为Entreri的辱骂在他喉咙中发出的咯咯声中结束。剧烈的痛苦在他全身引起明显的振动,他的肌肉不自主地收缩抽搐着。

“Master Kane!”Gareth皱起眉头。

“他如果想活命,就不能这样对王后说话。”Kane回答道。

“释放他。”Gareth命令道。

Kane点了点头,闭上眼睛。

Entreri挺直身体,深吸一口气。他站立不稳,单膝跪在了地上。

“那就给他一把剑。”Christine高声说。

“坐下别动!”Gareth命令道。他从王座上站起来,在所有人震惊的表情中走向前方——除了Entreri的,那刺客带着深重的恨意盯着他。

“把他带到监狱第一层的一个牢房里,”Gareth说。“让他的牢房明亮温暖,他的食物充足可口。”

“但是我王……”Olwen开始反对。

“不要让他受到任何伤害。”Gareth毫不犹豫地继续说。“去吧。”

Riordan和Celedon走到Entreri身边,开始把他从大厅里拖走。Olwen惊讶而气愤地看了Gareth,然后匆匆过去帮忙。

“去缓解他的痛苦。”Gareth对Dugald修士说,后者则难以置信地看着他。当那修士没有立刻行动的时候,他摆着手说,“快去,快去。”

Dugald走出房间的时候一直回头盯着Gareth。

“你让一个威胁活了下来。”Christine皱着眉对丈夫说。

“我警告过你不要那样和他交锋。”

“你愿意忍受他的侮辱?”

“我愿意听他说完。”

“你是国王。Gareth Dragonsbane,Damara之王和Vassa之王。你的耐心是一种美德,我并不怀疑,但它被用错了地方。”

Gareth明智地没有指出这句话的讽刺性。但是他也没有眨眼睛,没有同意地点头,于是Lady Christine气鼓鼓地从刚才进来的侧门走了出去。

“你不能让他活下来,”当他们单独在一起的时候Kane对国王说。“那样做的话会招致整个国度发出的挑战。Dimian Ree正在谨慎地观察我们,我确信。”

“他真的完全错了吗?”Gareth问道。

“是的。”武僧没有丝毫迟疑地回答。

但Gareth摇了摇头。Entreri和那个奇怪的卓尔的所作所为和他自己的相比,真的有什么不同吗?

5月19日

又一个片段

我果然是想到哪儿写到哪儿……应该是有些接不上的,考虑到我自己都有点混乱这段应该是在哪里。。。
 

Trees. Gigantic trees.

It seemed to Allen that his life, or whatever was left of it, had been filled with their mighty crowns and huge trunk. Silent and sullen, they gazed down upon him. Sometimes their branches rustled angrily, agitated by the unnatural presence of the Pale Master; and sometimes they stood still with cold distain. At least, that’s what the necromancer sensed. He wasn’t serious about his wild imaginations, since he now felt more akin to undead things than he did to living creatures, which he regarded as a good sign of his progress. But still, maybe the solitude he always yearned for was costing his sanity. Sometimes he wondered if it would be nice to have a familiar, maybe a raven or a falcon, just to have some companionship.

It’s not he’s alone. He had dozens of minor undead servants, skeleton warriors and zombies who would obey any order he gave. Also he controlled a couple of ghosts, and a wraith had recently been pushed into his service. But alas, among his “companions”, those without a soul left in their empty shell of a body cannot talk, and rest only concentrate their pathetic consciousness on the hatred for the living. He had had enough of murmurs of death and screams of anguish, even the silence that sometimes seemed to gnaw at his soul had became merciful. Allen the Pale Master had taken the road of undeath and left his “life” behind, but not his hearing, nor his taste.

As the thought of sitting in the ancient elven tomb he had taken as his residence, listening to the crack of bone when a skeleton shifted its position, moans of pain and hatred when the ghosts were either at work or idle, splatter of water when it rained, as it always did, and all other queer sound that’s considered to be ordinary for a tomb didn’t appeal to him, a walk among the forest was refreshing. Who knows, maybe he could even find some sport.

So it was, Allen strode between the gigantic trees, powerful trees, slender trees and elegant trees, and sometimes he truly admired them, especially a gargantuan oak he believed to be thousands of years old. The necromancer was no druid, but he had no doubt that even a beast with its limited perception could recognize that ancient one. Whenever he put his right hand, the still human one on its trunk, a feeling of life and peace would surge into his mind, like the ever cool water of a deep well. Then huge oak must had seen the wax and wane of several ages, the rise of fall of many empires, the come and go of countless mortals. The Netheril Empire before Allen’s time, the elven kingdoms before that, maybe even the reign of dragons, all these were but ancient memory for the more ancient oak. He couldn’t hope to achieve a legendary life like that, not even as long as an elf’s, but Allen tried something else that made him immortal, and the price he paid for it was nothing in comparison with what he had gained.

As he wandered and mused in the forest, five skeleton warriors fanned out beside and behind him, another in front him as a shield. He wasn’t really expecting to face any threat, but the Pale Master hadn’t done all the work in his life to be waylaid by some mindless brute.

And his caution proved to be wise.

When he wove his way through a particularly dense part of the forest, he felt something, or rather someone. And as Allen turned to inspect his surroundings, he came to stare into a pair of beautiful eyes.

Obviously, the elf with her pointed ears and slender build just saw him at the same time. They were both surprised, since neither of them expected to see anything other than those all kinds of trees. An instant later, they both began to chant. Allen saw the telltale wands thrust in her belt, identical to be a spellcaster’s weapons. Even without them, the cold and dangerous glimmer in her eyes betrayed a sharp and calculating mind trained by the Art. While for the elf’s part, the half a dozen undead bodyguards were no doubt enough for anyone to take action. Allen wouldn’t blame her if the elf chose to unleash a fire ball or a thunder bolt, and simply out of self-defense he would usually throw an equally deadly, or even more lethal spell in his new friend’s way. But this time, he began with a defensive one that will reflect any magical assault directed at him back to the assailant. The moment he completed his casting, the elf spread her arms wide, and thick, milky mist filled the forest around them.

Giving a silent command to his skeleton warriors to attack anything nearby, Allen put another layer of defense to ward himself from fire. The mist obscured almost everything in his sight, so the necromancer assumed that the elf couldn’t see well, either. Yet the seemingly fair situation had in a manner rendered his reflection shield useless. Since his opponent had difficulty in locating him, any assault directed at him would be impossible, instead an area affected spell certainly came into handy. Also, as a common sense, the most effective elemental power against undead was fire.

But the expected attack didn’t come, though Allen wasn’t standing still and waiting for it. He concentrated on the connection between him and his undead servants, and once any of his skeleton warriors engaged with an enemy, he would lash out with a more offensive spell.

A rush of air betrayed the movement of the elf, or it was some creature she summoned for protection, though Allen heard no incantation of that specific kind of Conjuration spell. The necromancer abandoned his previous plan and stood on guard, his left hand grew translucent and poised, ready to attack. Should the elf or her minions be foolish enough to assume that the Pale Master had no defense against a melee attack when his undead servants milled about in search of unseen foes, well, Allen would make her regret it.

But as he waited, nothing came. And he suddenly knew that there was something strange with the elf, something he didn’t quite see but rather felt. The space between them was thick with trees, and he focused first on her eyes and then on his spell-casting. The obscuring mist made him lose sight of the elf, but not the beginning of her next move in the last second. Allen had no time to think about it back then, but now that he had an opportunity to have a closer look into his instant memory, he realized that she flexed her wings.

Black, leathery wings, like a bat’s, or a demon’s.

The necromancer began to feel somewhat beaten. Since their encounter, the female elf had outmaneuvered every move he made. The mist rendered his spell-reflecting shield useless, as well as his skeleton warriors; her taking to the air prevented possible counterattack from himself or his servants; her next move must be an airborne assault, which he was not expecting before it must had already been too late. Without much experience of fighting an enemy possessing the advantage of flying, the Pale Master couldn’t hope to strike back efficiently with his touch of death.

So Allen simply braced himself for the elf’s attack, maybe some hellish power that would surely penetrate his shield against normal or even magical fire. He had read about some incidence in which demons assaulted unsuspecting wizards with hell flame that contained the element of pure evil that burned the very soul. With a withered core, even an eternal shell wouldn’t make any difference.

And again, the reality didn’t match with his prediction. Moments crept by, but nothing happened. Until the necromancer couldn’t wait any longer and attempted a dispelling, only to find the female elf gone, like the obscuring mist.

Still cautious, Allen hastily teleported himself and his undead servants back to the elven tomb to think about this encounter, and to reload his spells. Then he would find out this elf, and find out what, if his guess was correct, was a demonfey doing in this forest.

4月17日

我也发点非YY非翻译的东西

期中基本是考完了——好吧,一共就是英文普通物理和分子生物学两门,后者还是周日小测验的形式。所以基本上闲下来一点,虽然也没闲到哪里去。

有机化学实验结束了,算是无聊的抄书型实验报告告别,不过不知道下学期物理化学实验是不是一样……考虑到这种技术含量比较低的东西很难写出什么来,估计也就那个样子。

虽然一向是觉得每周各需要四到六个小时不等的分子和生化实验确实是比较麻烦的东西(原本也不麻烦,结果一届届都有学长写出20多页的报告来,自己不写个十来页怎么对得起助教呢),不过说实话还是挺有兴趣的。尤其是在生化实验室里,会感觉自己确实在做一些比较高科技的东西……好吧,这周拿菜刀切兔子肉算个例外。最早做的ELIZA(大家一直不知道怎么念这个东西,老师们的发音也不一样。。。),酶联免疫吸附测定,用一排8个枪头的移液器往96孔板里加抗体,还是颇有电影电视里高端生物实验室的样子。不过做的时候还是有点心虚,一次加0.1ml,到底有没有东西啥都看不到……后来是凝胶层析还有Western Blot这些大二上的时候听到了还丝毫不知所云的东西。分子实验的感觉也很好,从提取质粒开始,一路酶切,电泳,PCR,纯化,加入目标基因,连接,转入细胞,最后到检验蛋白产物,做完之后才发现,高中课本里的东西不过如此。

这学期的课应该算是挺多的,刚开学的时候每天上下午都是课,最不爽的莫过于45分钟午饭时间,直接导致一帮人天天中午都跟清华附中的“小孩儿”们在最贵的食堂吃饭。两本近千页的英文教材,反正我是不抱有看完的希望(其实也不会都讲完,还好……)。况且貌似我还是班里进度最快的,很是欣慰。拜分子和生化所赐,英文阅读能力应该没下降,上周六买的The year of Rogue Dragons系列已经快看完一本了,Sammaster就是强啊就是强……

话说回来,其实这个学期算不上很忙,至少从周五下午到周日晚上都没什么事情做,除了偶尔要补一补随机数学作业。也经常想起来,该跑团了啊。

似乎从大二开始这个团就有些荒废了……一开始我给自己的解释是,跑团已经逐渐陷入游戏的模式了——即使不是WOW,也是无冬之夜,而我想要的即使不是The Gamers,也至少是博德之门。剧情似乎慢慢变得不那么重要,而连战斗也没有什么战略战术和配合。好吧,前者对我而言需要比较长时间的构思,但是有时候一犯懒就给简单化了。虽然我知道把每段剧情都设计得像官方模组一样,背景充实,对话精细,跌宕起伏,细节完美,这不大可能。不过还是希望每个人物能有个名字,无论它会不会被大家所知道。而战斗……可能还是受游戏的影响,似乎我的任何施法者都是炮台,任何战士都是拿把顺手的武器冲进人群乱砍一通,显然大家也就都这样了……有时候总觉得PC们一些很“不正经”的手法对于NPC是不公平的,不过事后想想,如果能跳出“正经”的战斗模式其实是个好事情。收集了N多进阶,于是就总喜欢建一些比较BT的东西出来,貌似这就逐渐接近着DND里的“小白”行为。。。

可能是日常任务惹的祸(现在一天一做就是将近20个……),加上卡拉赞,魔导师平台,每天总能泡在WOW里。话说最深的地下城也不更新,已经不记得上次花时间看龙与地下城的东西是什么时候了。只是看看小说,没了DND的感觉。

或许……重头开始会好些?我不知道。但是给我感觉最好的,其实就是在那个已经忘记了名字的农夫家,和一小群地精的战斗。

“地精被你一剑砍碎了,溅了你一身。”

“他的背包没盖上吧?”

“好吧,地精的脑袋掉进去了。”

于是有时候在考虑,如果海奥诺回到了遥远的瑞什曼面对族人的指责和自己的梦魇,路克尔回到了科曼瑟去履行一个皇族后裔的职责,维莉塔和小关接到竖琴手的其他任务,拉薇妮亚旅行到安姆和影贼正式交涉,Roc回到深水城继续他的导游工作,戴安娜和象象响应翡翠圆环的召唤,飓风投身于对抗地精和巨人大军的战役,阿兰在巨龙海岸的城市中找到了用口舌和弓箭解决一切的生活……一切在新的人物身上重新开始,会如何?

2月25日

Son of the starless night

“Lord Xvim, hear us!” An old man in a black robe exclaimed.

“Hear us, great Lord!” Dozens of men and women kneeling behind him followed.

“Long have we served Lord Bane, and now we have remained faithful by serving you.” Gillian the Imperceptor and the High Priest, the only one standing in the underground hall, chanted with a deep voice. He still bore the title he once had when the church of Bane was the mightiest in this city, when the clergy of the Black Hand controlled everything within Zhentil Keep’s high walls and the Black Network controlled everything without. And the ritual hadn’t changed much, except that Xvim’s symbol, the piercing emerald eye on an ebon hand, replaced that of Bane.

“We sow strife between our enemies and rule over them all. One day we shall rise again above all other as tyrants with no mercy, nor weakness!” He turned around to face his fellow worshipers of Xvim. “Bring forth your gifts.”

One by one they rose and put various items on the simple altar of their god, muttering all along.

“O Lord Xvim, this is the dagger of a dog of Cyric. Your loyal servant stole an enemy’s weapon and thus weakened him.”

“Tyrant of the world, I come with the identity of a traitor. He is Mark the Dirty Hand, who betrayed your favor and now, hides within the Mad One’s temple.”

It went on like this for several minutes, until everyone in the basement of a deserted warehouse had presented his or her gift to their god.

Gillian nodded once, but then frowned deeply. Of the church of Xvim in Zhentil Keep, there were thirty-three men and women, including Mark who betrayed them all. Many more swore their faith to Xvim, but would not come to the ritual. For one thing they fear the church of Cyric, those mad dogs nosing everyone and snatching innocents and “heretics” alike. But it was the High Priest who insisted that such few should join the ritual. He didn’t like the idea of having hundreds or more people gathered together, chanting their prayer to Xvim and making sacrifices, which would most surely draw the attention of the whole Keep, even Cyric himself. No, only the trusted and talented ones could, with great care and some stealth, come here. But he believed once called, hundreds of priests and priestesses, thousands of believers, countless monsters and humanoids would rally to their banner.

And now, as the Imperceptor counted, only thirty presented. He couldn’t help but wonder if what little faith he had in his comrades was still too much.

Frowning more deeply, Gillian whispered to his servant, “Bring her.” The young man gave a curt nod, and then hurried down the dais leading up to the altar, two strong half-orc bodyguards following him. A moment later, they dragged from a small side room a woman with dark hair and pale skin, wrists and angles tightly bound. She was in full armor, though the leather scabbard on her belt was empty. In her brown eyes there was fear all too clear. The half-orcs threw her on the altar like a sack of grain, and the woman grunted from the impact. She was obviously weak, bruise marked the exposed skin of her pretty face and slim arms.

“Xvim, my lord!” Gillian picked up a wicked dagger from the altar. “We your unworthy servants have been somehow fruitless in our holy war against the dogs of Cyric, I have to admit. But disfavor us not, O Black Tyrant, for this day we give you this captain of the city guard of Zhentil Keep, a guilty bitch whose soul belongs to the Mad One!”

These said, he chanted a prayer which caused his fingers to burn with the evil emerald fire, and asked the captain, “You are charged with worshiping Cyric and found guilty. Do you want to defend yourself?” But the woman seemed to be driven mad by fear and remained silent. And her jaw has been crushed anyway.

“Good. Now you are sentenced to be executed, here and now.” With his right hand the Imperceptor burned “HERETIC” on the woman’s forehead and her mouth opened as wide as her broken jaw allowed in a silent scream; then with his left he sliced her throat open, and blood streamed forth from the mortal wound. Raising the curved dagger in his hand, crimson dripping from the blade onto the altar, Gillian shouted zealously, cold glee for the slaughter filled his voice.

“Grant us your favor, great lord!”

 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

 

An hour later…

“He betrayed us, my lord, you know that!” Lars, priest of Xvim exclaimed. “That little scum and his stupid wife must have sold us to the dogs of Cyric!”

“So you say.” Gillian said calmly. “I know all along that you don’t like him, thinking there is never enough belief in that one, and if there was one betrayer within our order, it would be him.” The Imperceptor paused for a moment to let Lars digest his words, “But I say there is neither enough nerve in Sorrell or Dalmara for any action a league’s way from betrayal. They are common citizens who remain loyal to Bane and Xvim out of fear for later punishment, in which the iron control of our former order had made them believe.”

“And there will be.” Octevia, priestess of Xvim, twin sister of Lars, emphasized her word by pounding her gauntleted fist on the table set between the four of them, leaving several dents on the polished wood. “Those crazy fools of Cyric, and others who actually believe in their words that the Mad One now claim Lord Bane’s divine power as his own, shall no doubt face the terrible ire of the Black Fist, and eventually meet their fated doom! Let them rise to a great height, let them taste the sweetness of limitless power, let them take the city as their own playground and walk around hunting down followers of other deities like beasts, for these will only make their fall all the more painful. When at last they are all crawling on the ground, begging everyone around them for mercy, we shall strike hard and smite these heretics to nothingness!”

“Yes, yes, that is the promise of Lord Xvim, in which we all believe.” the Imperceptor answered, his tone showing a tiny hint of impatience, as if he had heard this being proclaimed all too often. “And that petty couple, betrayers or not, should be the least of our concern. What can they sell the order out for? The dogs of Cyric will have their way what so ever. Sorrell just can’t be so ignorant as to believe that they will hold their side of bargain. Everyone in this city knows that there is a great difference between the spies of Cyric and our Black Network, which is that the former just don’t pay.” Seeing the twin finally nodding in agreement, Gillian knew his logic had eased his zealous fellow clerics a bit, so he changed the topic. “And that’s preciously why no one sells information to the order of Black Sun. It’s also why I don’t worry about Mark abandoning our course.”

“As if he dares,” a wicked smile found its way to Octevia’s face. “Sometimes, even without the possibility of his betraying us, I find myself wondering if it would be better to tear that annoying creature to shreds with my bare hands.”

“From all we are seeing, he is doing his job well.” Gillian ignored the vicious woman, “he’s supposed to sell our secrets to the highest bidder, and like we have discussed before, the clergy of the Dark Sun is the only bidder. And being desperate for informers only makes it easier for Mark to win their trust. Now he abides in their temple, pretending to be hiding from us but all the time sending information back.”

The Imperceptor grinned as he silently congratulated himself one more time for his successful plan and continued: “He is a rather poor bard, as almost everyone who knows him would agree, but I always have confidence in his ability of acting, especially when he was to act as a wicked and miserable wretch, which our dear Mark actually is.”

“So far, so good.” The fourth man in this secret room, who had kept silent before, suddenly spoke. He wore black chain mail covered by a finely decorated vest made of black dragon hide, several tokens and talismans were pinned on it, gleaming in the dull light cast by the candles on the table. His face was framed by flaming red hair, and his powerful arms folded in front of his broad chest. “There is something far more important than a petty spy I want to speak with you. I have received information via certain ways, for example, seeking consul and making deals with beings of other planes of existence, which indicates that Cyric is going down.” Receiving sharp glances and short gasps from his fellow clerics, the red-haired man nodded grimly and continued, “Yes, I know the Black Sun is, from many aspects, all powerful, more so than the other great Powers. Maybe even some of them combined will not be able to bring him down, though they must wish to do so. But as a…agent of mine claimed, Cyric’s immense power will be exactly the cause of his downfall.”

Lars arched a thin brow and asked: “Might we know the identity of your ‘agent’, just to verify the credit of his, her or its claim?”

The man hesitated for a moment, during which Lars and Octevia stared at him with undisguised doubt but Gillian stood there patiently.

“Let me explain it first.” The fourth man finally answered. Lars raised his brow higher but didn’t question him further and waited for his explanation. “Every god wants more power, even those who stand for ‘good’ and ‘law’; they are all hungry for it and their hunger are beyond a mortal’s imagination. The more power a god has, the greater becomes the hunger. So is the case for Cyric, who has taken Death, Decay, Murder, Deception, Strife and many others into his office. This leaves him only one single target to strike against and seize more power.”

“Who?” It was the Imperceptor who asked. “There is no other god more powerful than him, and I doubt any mortal is worth the trouble.”

“With all due respect, High Priest, but I have to say you are wrong.” The man clearly saw his fellows’ confusion but still waited a moment for the surprise to sink in. “A far greater Power exists. The true god of all gods. Few know his existence, and I don’t think anyone knows what he is called. What is he capable of, no one can tell, not even the powerful beings that reside beyond the Prime. But it is rumored among the planes that this Time of Trouble is his doing.”

“And Cyric, always desiring more power, would eventually challenge the highest one and, if that one is really the highest, find his own demise.” Gillian understood the logic and mused out loud.

“Indeed, Imperceptor.” The man answered. “And this bit of information came out of the mouth of a nelfeshnee but a prince of the Abyss was the origin of his knowledge.”

“A nelfeshnee and a demon prince…” Lars nodded after a moment of pondering, “Chaotic as the denizens of Abyss are, those with higher rank don’t easily feed you pointless lies, and I see no reason why they would make up such an outrageous story just to make you a fool.”

The red-haired man stared daggers in the cleric’s way, and seeing the tension between them, Gillian stepped in. “So let’s assume this information is trustworthy, then how do you see it?”

“I don’t see it simply as an opportunity for us to make our strike. Even in a weakened state, the followers of Cyric are too strong, and being in a state of desperation will only make them fiercer. We can’t waste the strength of our clergy and the Black Network in any hopeless attempt…”

“To simply say so will be enough to incur our Lord’s terrible wrath, and we shall not tolerate such blaspheme!” Octevia burst like a volcano and her gauntleted fists tightened on her side. “One favored by the Dark Tyrant should never speak like a weakling! Or are you still in his favor?”

“I would say yes, but tell me yourself,” the man in question turned and glared at the priestess with eyes set ablaze by emerald fire, and an instant later the same flame burst forth from all over his body. He glowed like another sun, surrounded by the evil fire, illuminating the small room in bright green light. “Am I still in the favor of the Black Hand?” Octevia fell backwards, hands covering her eyes, and cowered into a corner, whimpering indistinct words.

“Glad you agree.” Sensing Gillian tense behind him, he pulled back his flame. And ignoring a furious Lars, who was at the same time filled with awe and dread, the red-haired man turned back and said calmly: “This is all for today. I will take my leave, Imperceptor. The Black Network needs my attention.”

“Go with the blessing of Xvim, Chosen One.” Gillian said, relieved that neither part of the little conflict went too far. Bane’s demise was bad enough, their weakened clergy would be damned if some high-ranking members tried to kill each other for foolish pride.

He remembered the days when the Black Hand ruled with iron fist, when no one dared to speak out of term, when they sat within Bane’s mighty temple and held absolute power over literally everyone. No more. And Cyric was to blame. Of course Mystra and Kelemvor shall pay, and pay dearly, but only after Xvim has crushed the Dark Sun like a mortal as he once was. The Imperceptor gave the man in front of him an almost sorrowful nod, knowing after so many years of working together, he would understand.

Without another word, Fzoul Chembryl, the Chosen of Bane and Xvim, returned a same meaningful nod and headed out of the room.

 

1月25日

闲来无事VI

Gromph大步走向前方的阳台,上面站着他的两个学生。他们是Norulle,一个五年级学生。他用某种导致毛发增长的小戏法让自己的下巴上冒出一蓬矮人一样的胡子——这完全算不上有什么吸引力,考虑到他们正在和谁打仗——以及Prath,一个还只有三十多岁的一年级学生。他健壮的体格和隆起的二头肌本该让他的家族把他送到Melee-Magthere去的。两个人都背对着Gromph穿过的通道,并且躲在一个幽灵般虚幻的龟壳后面,那桌子一样大的东西就悬浮在阳台正前方。

当一片箭矢打在那龟壳上,绝大多数都破碎成粉末的时候,Norull向后退缩了一步。然而,其中一支箭闪烁着奥术的光芒。它穿透了魔法屏障,钉在Prath斗篷的袖子上。几乎看都不看一眼,Prath把箭扯下来扔到一边。过了一会儿,鲜血开始从他的手上淌下来。他把血用力甩开。

那孩子应该成为一个士兵,Gromph心想。

从外面传来战斗的声响:下方杜加矮人高喊的命令;投石车的铰链被拉动而后发射的声音;魔法能量的爆裂和嘶鸣;以及上方和下方露台上法师们施放着各种法术时疯狂的吟唱。

NorullPrath——发生什么了?”Gromph一边走上露台一边问,“你们的导师呢?”

Norull惊讶地转过身,手里握着一支魔杖。

“主人!”他惊呼道,“您在这里!”

钻石尘在Norull的头发和胡子上闪耀,看来有人在他身上施加了强大的保护性魔法。

Prath回答了Gromph的问题,“Leandran已经不在了。一团魔法火焰正好打中了他。”

他指向露台远端的一个地方——石制地板上一个冒着黑烟的坑。从那中间穿透了的一个洞里Gromph可以看到下方的地面。更多小一些的坑,有些还在冒烟,沾在大坑后面的墙壁上,像是什么东西泼洒过来留下的痕迹,而每一个又都被一圈冰霜环绕。很明显两个学生用某种寒冷法术把火焰熄灭了。而至于Leandran,学院的防护系大师,没有任何迹象表明他曾经存在,除了肉体烧焦的臭味。

一阵呼啸声引起了Gromph的注意。他转向旁边,正好看到一个巨大的陶罐划出一道弧线飞向Sorcere,在几十尺外一支石笋上撞得四分五裂,向附近泼溅出流体火焰。那些烈火向下涌动,燃烧着路上的一切:石制墙壁,露台上方一道装饰性的铸铁拱檐,以及那个露台本身。

露台上的人匆忙躲开那片烈焰——其中一个慢了一些。当一些液体淌在他的披风上时,他剧痛的尖叫在空气中回响。紧接着被那烈焰软化的铸铁拱檐在一阵金属扭曲的尖利声音中倾覆,盖过了他的惨叫。在上方,学院的墙壁继续燃烧着,很快石制塔身就被火焰噬咬出一个洞来。

Gromph盯着陶罐飞来的方向,以及那座由杜加们竖立起来的防御工事。它就矗立在从Dark Dominion进入Tier Breche的通道口。那工事看起来就是切成方形的蘑菇茎杆,水平地堆砌起来,但很明显地还受到了魔法强化。在某个露台上的法师投射的闪电弹除了从那些真菌上炸掉一些细小的碎片外没有任何效果。而当另一个法师在那个工事上方召唤冰风暴时,那些冰锥在击中目标之前就已经融化了。

又一个Sorcere的法师向工事的方向散布了一片酸云。那黄色的毒气扫过蘑菇杆制成的障碍后继续向后面的通道中扩散。那道路障毫发无损,然而,装着炼金术制品的陶罐却依旧从投石车中发射出来,尖啸着击中Sorcere,用猛烈的火焰摧毁它的墙壁。

看起来Arach-Tinilith的处境并不比Sorcere好到哪里去。那蜘蛛状的神殿也被白热的火焰点缀,它前方的地面则满是尸体。其中很多是粗壮的秃头——杜加——而更多是卓尔。黑暗精灵士兵们为了保卫这个洞穴献出了自己的生命。至于那些女祭司们,她们踪影全无。就像她们的女神一样,她们撤退到磐石般的高墙后面,把战斗留给了其他人。

Norull把身子探出露台,把手中的魔杖指向敌人。花生大的一粒粒火焰在杖头形成,在射向下方攻城工事的同时逐渐增大。当它们击中蘑菇杆制成的围墙时,已经有数尺宽。然而即使是在那些火球依次带着足以在混乱的战斗中让所有人都听到的巨大怒吼中爆炸后,那工事依然坚挺地矗立着。

Gromph眯起了眼睛。那防御工事表面上的无可撼动他可以理解——杜加们肯定是准备好了轻便的蘑菇茎杆,并且在进入指定位置之后把它们用魔法石化了。而他不明白的是为什么围墙后面的灰矮人如何能够在Norull火球的灼热与那片酸云的腐蚀之下还继续操纵那些投石车。

他看着一个高年级学生突然出现在下面的战场中,那道杜加建造的障碍物前面,然后施展了一个Gromph本人教授的咒语——咆哮术。一道浪潮般的音波从灰矮人阵地中横扫而过,甚至让那些石化的蘑菇茎杆都明显地颤抖。

但敌人的进攻并没有停息。箭矢从围墙的小孔中射出来,其中一支在那个学生传送走的一刹那刺入了他的腹部。

“主人!”Prath高喊道,他的声音盖过Gromph耳中的鸣响,最终得到了他的注意力。“或许我们应该向他们释放一片毒虫?或许——老鼠?”

Gromph正要指出这个建议的荒谬,却突然停了下来。

“‘学徒口中出真言,’”他一边轻笑着一边说出这句谚语。

Prath困惑地看着他,眼睛里闪着一丝希望。

“那是个正确的建议吗,主人?”

“不,”Gromph回答,“但它让我有了一个想法。继续战斗——注意别丢了脑袋。”

回到他不久前才匆匆走过的通道里,Gromph闭上了眼睛。寻找到Kyorli只花了他一瞬间的专注。把自己的意识注入他的魔宠里,Gromph可以感觉到小小的腿脚迅速地奔跑着,以及一个鼻头不停嗅着这只老鼠面前的岩石。

Kyorli大法师送出自己的意念,你在哪里?

跑。跑回Sorcere!但是道路被封锁了。

用一点点注意力,Gromph就可以通过这只老鼠的眼睛去观察。Kyorli正在一个通道中穿行,绕过森林般的一双双腿。那些是杜加们,他们正在两人一组地把同僚士兵的尸体拖走。两个灰矮人,抬着一具死去同伴的尸体,跑到了一条侧面的通道里。

KyorliGromph命令道。那条通道。进去看看。

Kyorli溜到入口处,瞥向通道里面。从她的双眼中,Gromph看到了他所预期的:一个穿着带有兜帽的暗色长袍的灰矮人,手里握着一支法杖,杖顶端是一颗鸡蛋大小,中间有一道深深裂纹的宝石——拉杜格的神徽。那个牧师站在一打堆放在地上的尸体前面施展着一个神术,手中的法杖在上方挥舞。过了一会儿,那些尸体开始移动。死去的士兵们整齐地站起来——仿佛被某种恐怖的生命形态所驱动——排成一行走出了通道。

跟着他们,Gromph命令,看他们去哪里。

Kyorli照做了,当然是在一个安全的距离上。那些不死的灰矮人抽搐着排着一列队伍走向洞穴入口处。到了那里之后,他们在攻城围墙后面各就各位,对于又一片从洞穴上方翻滚着涌来的酸云毫无反应,虽然那团剧毒的气体腐蚀着他们干枯的皮肤。

Gromph得承认那些杜加很聪明。Lolth的女祭司失去了她们的神术,因此就没有人能够驱散一支亡灵军队——或者控制住它们。一旦那些魔法火焰完成了工作,它们就将不受阻挡地进军SorereMelee-Magthere,以及Arach-Tinilith,然后是魔索布莱城的其他领土。而且唯一一个强大到能阻止它们的大法师还被远远地禁锢在城市的下面——至少他们的指挥官是这样认为的。

Kyorli眼中的景象突然变得模糊,老鼠为了躲避一个跑来的士兵不得不迅速溜到一边去。

这就够了,Gromph告诉他的魔宠。给自己找个安全的地方躲起来,很快你就能够到Sorcere来和我会合了。

把他的意识拉回到自己的身体里,Gromph充满自信地走上露台。他从口袋里掏出一根雕刻过的骨头,然后面对转头看着他的两个学徒,把手伸了出去。

“我需要一块鲜肉。”他告诉他们。

Norull四下看了看。“但是,主人,这里没有啊,”他回答道。

Prath看着Gromph,慢慢点了点头。从斗篷袖子里抽出一把匕首,他把自己的左手放在露台的扶手上,然后割下了小拇指的尖端。他用完好的那只手把那鲜血淋淋的一块肉拣起来——并忽视着他同学的表情——交给了Gromph

Gromph微笑着。

“很好,学徒。”他告诉那孩子。“你会很有前途的。顺便问问,你是哪个家族的?”

Prath在痛苦中笑着,把被切断的手指紧紧握在手心里,尽量阻止更多的流血,然后回答道:“Baenre家族,主人。”

“啊。”Gromph之前从来没有在家里见过这个男孩——他一定是最低阶贵族的后代。

Prath并不算聪明——任何一个学生都可以召唤来一个弱小的生物,杀了它,然后把它的肉交给Gromph——但他很忠诚。Gromph会用得到这一点的。

把血涂抹在那块骨头上,Gromph施展了他的法术。手腕一抖,他把它抛向了后面躲着那些不死灰矮人的工事。

然后他喊道:“停止你们的攻击。转而和那些杜加作战!”

各种魔法继续向蘑菇杆筑成的围墙倾泻着。其他法师花了一段时间才意识到投石车都已经停止了发射。亡灵杜加士兵们离开了那道工事。无意识地迈着不稳定的步伐,它们高举手中的武器走入通向Dark Dominion的隧道。过了一会儿,金属撞击的声响从通道远端传来,它们与自己还活着的同伴们展开了殊死搏斗。

看到这些,Melee-Magthere的战士们冲出了他们的金字塔。挥舞着长剑,他们翻过攻城围墙,开始把它以及那些投石车拆成碎片。其他人则拣起亡灵杜加士兵留在地上的炸弹,扔向通道里面。

Gromph表情严峻地笑了笑。最终他转过身,把目光投向Tier Breche下方的城市。除了敌人获得——又刚刚失去了——的一个立足点,魔索布莱城似乎还并没有被战争所影响。作为贵族们家园的那些石柱和石笋还闪着妖火的光亮,一道魔法火环正在纳邦德尔石柱上爬行。Gromph皱起眉头,思考着哪个Baenre家的法师在他失踪的这段时间里在执行那仪式。看起来他并不是如他想象得一样无可替代。他得和Triel谈谈这个。然后,当他完成了对主母的报告之后,他要看看自己怎样来结束这场战争。

8月19日

台服几天,图多杀猫

 呃……为什么出来都是小图呢……而且我也不会给每个图配注解……
好吧,以下(或者是以上)图片中包括我的血骑士Daried和他的强大双手剑,银月城的路灯和自动扫把,登基为太阳之王的某凯的塑像,不知道是谁的女精灵的塑像,银月城逐日王庭门前很有气势的卫兵,疑似是新副本大门的东西,我的德莱尼法师Alustril,两个NPC的恶搞对话,一个同样恶搞的任务(我是那棵偷听的树),一个任务可以先让你飞,再让你变成黑豹,任务中和我一起冲锋的熊怪,埃索达门前的60级小猫,埃索达的纳鲁,一个任务借我骑的大象。
血精灵和德莱尼新手任务都好棒……尤其是血精灵那个小村的声望装(比如那把双手剑),羡慕……
其实还看了个70牧师的装备,就懒得贴了,不过全身治疗+1799,用了饰品后+2096,其中单手武器就+429……
8月14日

西安

兵马俑很好,华清池感觉什么都没有,羊肉泡馍没吃,小雁塔很挤,大雁塔就懒得爬了,钟鼓楼有很大的钟和鼓。 
以下是比较大的收获……
 
 
8月10日

貌似该更新了

这个地方自从挖出来之后就没怎么照看,通常是一口气放一堆东西进来然后就遗忘掉了……明天(写完肯定是今天了)跑团,突然想更新下。
呃……先说说WOW吧……某个被成为灯火猪的刚刚问我为什么没见我少上,身上装备还这么烂。话说我还是考虑过买套元帅来穿的,加两把元帅匕首,不过总觉得那就是这战场的几周用得上,回头都要郁闷得扔店,多不值当(当然,现在发现战场可不止几周……),于是都买的70荣誉装,放银行里没事就去看看,很期待啊~不知道什么时候才能穿上,哎……
前几天发现了一个买电影的地方,于是一口气买了11张盘回来。美版无间道,天国王朝,16街区,教父三部曲,燃情岁月(我看到英文名后想到的是秋日传奇……),魔术师,变形金刚,还有个叫征服者的,貌似在杂志上见到过。
到现在还一张没看……
进入正题,就是坑的问题。貌似是昨天(写完肯定是前天了),当我正在和一帮人砍高阶祭司玛尔里的小蜘蛛的时候,游侠说很奇怪为什么这么多有YY精神的人没有写同人呢?
实在是坑很多啊……
不过……对于《达纳苏斯的阳光》,我想可以从“夜幕剑锋”Y起,恩。
只是个想法。
最后是填坑部分啦~其实也算不上填,就是昨天(写完肯定是……我猜大家已经掌握这个时间概念了)从地铁站出来的时候突然想到的一点东西。离要填的部分很远,基本可以理解为断点下载那种。
Son of the starless night——Live in the night
……(片段,片段而已)
When Allen finally understood what was happening in this blazing hell around him, he decided to get out of there. With his natural ability to remain invisible, which has developed along with his age and his magical power, it would be an easy task to slip away, just like the fleeting shadow of a bird high overhead.
So, Allen confidently and gracefully stepped over a fallen elf archer, dodged aside when a drow twin-blade rogue, transfixed by a lance of pure arcane energy, flew back a few yards, and was about to get away.
That's when he felt something. Allen had had such feeling a few times before, and he knew he was detected.
Turning around, he met the gaze of an elf spellcaster. A quite competent wizard, having access to spells such as true-seeing to conter Allen's natural invisibility.
However, this was not what concerned him most. The elf was casting another spell, one that Allen recognized without much difficulty.
It was a spell of disintegrate.
After a panicked instant, Allen the necromencer realized that his newly acquired undead body, though immune to many deadly assults and dangerous elements, would prove an easy prey for a handful of spells. Sadly, disintegrate was counted as one of those. This realization made Allen breathless.
When he finished the casting, the elf spread his hands, and from them a sinister green ray shot forth. He also yelled something like "Die, dark-skined drow!"
Before the ray touched him, Allen still managed only one word, in which was filled his anger, his hatred and all the power that's left in him. However, it was not a potent counterspell, not a hastely raised arcane barrier, not an anti-magic field, not a power word, not even the beginning of a chanting. And being breathless, he didn't make it very loud.
So, in the face of his doom, Allen only muttered:"Damnation."
And he felt burned alive from inside. Darkness followed.
 
(昨天晚上写完了发现貌似是网络问题,发布不了,于是就存下来晚点再发……)
7月29日

闲来无事V

这个放在龙堡,居然被加了精华,他们还真是随便给精华啊……

 

Gromph对瓶子所容纳的东西感到惊讶。他可以听到液体流淌的声音,但滑过他舌头的东西感觉起来像是细沙。把这些东西吞下去之后,他口中充满了一种奇怪的——陈旧的脱水昆虫与研碎的琥珀诡异地混杂在一起——味道。

记忆像被一个成熟真菌所喷射出的孢子一样迅猛地在他的心灵中爆发出来。在这之中有一个法术——它没有任何姿势成分,仅仅需要一个触发条件:把瓶子里的东西全部吞下去。

意识到事情有些不对劲的夺心魔一跃而起,探出一只畸形的手,但那已经太晚了。瓶子里最后一点液体滑过Gromph的舌头,被他吞咽下去,触发了那个法术。魔法的波动在一念之间扫过整个房间,把Sluuguth冻结起来。它的双眼在怒火中膨胀,挥出的触手和Gromph的脸只有一根手指的距离。被夺心魔打飞的思维瓶静止在半空中,而那柄一直在它手中的杜加战斧也停留在Sluuguth张开的指头与地面之间。在Gromph的思维告诉了它将要发生什么的那一瞬间,它在惊讶中松开了手。

Gromph直起身,一只手扶着书桌,让自己在显得有点模糊的房间里站稳些。脱离时间之流总会让人有些迷惘。他感到头晕,有些失去平衡,仿佛整个世界都是实体的,而他自己不是。

当他的记忆完全恢复之后,一切都清楚了。

原来就是为什么我抹除了自己关于这些瓶子的全部记忆,大法师思考着,除了唯一的一点,那就是我应该把它们交给任何一个控制了我心灵的敌人。

而这并非是因为他计划要骗那个敌人喝下瓶子里的东西,而是因为他早已预料到它会读取到这一点记忆,并因此谨慎地强迫Gromph先喝掉其中一瓶,以防万一。

就像Sluuguth所做的一样。

不过,Gromph没有把时间浪费在对自己的先见之明感到骄傲上。他得赶快行动。时间停止术很强大,但同时也很短暂,只能持续十几秒。迅速地弯下腰,他拣起了那柄战斧。

在瞬间的轻微延迟之后——惯性的作用让这武器像是陷在了泥里——Gromph双手紧紧握住斧柄,用力挥砍出去。斧刃利落地切断了夺心魔的脖子,被带出的血液静止在伤口外面,而它的脑袋还停留在肩膀上。

Gromph将这把武器放在书桌上时,法术终止了,时间继续流动起来。鲜血喷洒在墙上,Sluuguth的头颅从身体上飞了出去。夺心魔向前一冲,瘫倒在地上。一瞬间之后,那个思维瓶撞到墙壁后掉在地上。

低头看着战斧锋刃上一个狂乱的旋涡,Gromph发现到Sluuguth加入了这把魔法武器对受害者灵魂的收藏中。夺心魔的脸显现在斧面上,双眼充满恐惧,触手疯狂地挥动着。而后它逐渐变得透明,最终消失了。

“多有用的武器,”Gromph说着,把杜加战斧又放下了。他轻声笑了笑。“或许我应该把它挂在墙上作为一个纪念品。”

跪到地上,他吟诵出一个咒语,双手从夺心魔的尸体上方扫过。他的手掌扫过夺心魔伸出的手时感觉到了轻微的刺激。Sluuguth中指上的金色玺戒有魔法,其中注入了保护性力量。他把戒指从夺心魔的手指上拿下来,放在书桌上。

他的手在通过挂在Sluuguth腰带上的一个细长容器时又有了刺痛感。把它打开,Gromph看到里面是一根管子。他把管子拿出来——其实是根两端带着木塞的中空骨头——晃了晃,听到了纸张摩擦的声音。或许是卷轴?他以后会研究一下的,在采取了合适的预防措施之后。

把管子放在戒指旁边,他完成了对夺心魔尸体的检查。Sluuguth长袍的一个口袋让他的手掌第三次感受到刺激。Gromph把手伸进去,拿出来一块手指长的石英,被切割成棱镜形状。在它的内部闪耀着黄色的亮点。

Gromph见过类似的装置。这是地表精灵的魔法制品,他们需要光亮才能在幽暗地域里行动。他念出一个精灵语的词——那些地表精灵是如此墨守成规,几乎总是用同一个启动咒语——而棱镜,就像Gromph期望的一样,放射出一道苍白的锥形光芒,刚刚达到蜡烛的亮度。另一个启动词把光锥改变成刺痛他眼睛的,像魔杖一样细的白色光束。如果不是打在了Gromph办公室的墙上,这道强烈的射线肯定能够继续前进很远。

Gromph在强光中紧闭着双眼念出第三个启动词,那道光束立刻消失了。Gromph手中的棱镜变得和之前一样,像石头一样冰凉。

“有用的小东西,”他说着,把这块石英放在自己piwafwi的一个口袋里。“起码读卷轴的时候会很方便。”

他差一点就终止了搜索,但当他的手最后一次扫过夺心魔尸体的时候,他又感觉到了相同的刺激。有什么东西藏在装着石英棱镜的口袋里。把手深深探进去,他拽出来一根银链,上面挂着一块平滑的椭圆形翡翠。他立刻辨认出来这东西。

“原来就是为什么那些翡翠蜘蛛都消失了,”他嘀咕道,把链子放在自己口袋里。

站起身来,Gromph用魔法让夺心魔的脑袋飘浮起来——没理由去接触那些难闻的僵直触手,只要可以避免——然后把它放在尸体胸口上。接着他从自己piwafwi的一个口袋里掏出一撮灰尘,撒在Sluuguth的身体上。他吟唱了一个简短的咒语,伸出一根手指。带着愤怒的嘶声,他的指尖发出一道绿色射线。它扩散到整个尸体表面,发出凶猛的明亮电光。一瞬间,Sluuguth的身体就只剩下地板上的一小堆尘土了。

穿过房间,Gromph捡起那个空的思维瓶。它一边有些轻微的凹陷,但符文状的玻璃没有受到损伤,可以被再利用。他用一个修复术移除了凹陷,把它放在第二个瓶子旁边,然后用一个简单的法术让溅到书桌上的血变成暗褐色的粉末,又把这些干燥的血液吹走了。他把密封着的瓶子小心地放到抽屉里,拿起被打开了的那个。

他转向墙壁的方向,手指轻轻一挥,释放了被Sluuguth的法术定身的火元素。那元素生物带着愤怒的吼叫冲出来,让整个房间笼罩在高热中。

“它在哪……儿?”元素生物说。它全身闪耀着火光,向四面扫视着,寻找消失了的夺心魔。“它必须燃……烧。”

“夺心魔已经不在了。”Gromph回答。

火元素在愤怒中变得白热。

“你说过我只要焚灭一个入侵者就可以获得自由,”它低吼道,指着墙上的一片煤灰污迹,原本是那个符文的位置。“我难道要被再次囚禁起来吗?”

用手挡着自己的脸以免被高热灼伤,Gromph说,“不。你的任务改变了。完成它之后,你就自由了。”他把思维瓶指给元素生物看。“一会儿,我会使用这个魔法装置。我的事情结束之后,你要把下面这些信息告诉我……”

不久之后,Gromph发现自己坐在书桌后面手里拿着一个被打开的瓶子。一个装有和它相同瓶子的抽屉打开了,而一个火元素飘浮在书桌另一边。扫视房间的墙壁,Gromph发现一度绑定它的魔法徽记被激活了。有入侵者进入了他的办公室——Gromph施展了一个迅捷的侦测法术,但他的魔法没有显示出任何生物的痕迹,无论是活物还是不死的。不管那入侵者是谁,她或他都在Gromph的书桌上留下了一枚金戒指和一个卷轴盒——还有一把让人印象深刻的(拉风的)战斧,斜靠在桌旁。

让他突然感到焦虑地,Gromph意识到自己能回忆起来的最后一件事情就是被禁锢在那个球体里,漂浮在湖面上。很明显他用某种手段回到了Sorcere,并找到方法进入自己的研究室,逃脱了禁锢术。但那到底是什么方法?

Gromph盯着自己手中的黄金瓶子——他的思维瓶之一。答案一定就在里面。

“主……人,”火元素的声音转移了他的注意力。

Gromph抬起头。

Gracklstugh的军队和半炼狱兽人在……攻击魔索布莱城,”火元素宣称。一条亮红色火焰组成的舌头在说话的时候从它嘴里探出来。“那些杜……加已经在Tier Breche里面建立了攻城围墙,正在攻击Sorcere。至少有一个夺心魔混在他们之中——一个叫作Sluuguth的施……法者。他拥有一枚操……纵翡翠蜘蛛的护身符。你击败了它。”(对于SluuguthGromph称其为“它”,而火元素称其为“他”……就统一为“它”了)

说完这些,它身上不可见的魔法锁链解消了,火元素发出一阵胜利的吼声,随后就像一支燃尽的蜡烛般瞬间消失。

“一个夺心魔。”Gromph低语。

那么,这就可以解释为什么他手里拿着一个思维瓶。一丝记忆回到了他的脑海中。他创造这个瓶子——以及和它配对的另一个——就是为了预防自己落入灵吸怪之手。他的计划是要把瓶子交给那个生物……

在这里,他的记忆中断了。

耸耸肩,Gromph把瓶子小心地放到抽屉里,在另一个的旁边,然后把抽屉关上。

Sorcere正在被攻击?”他自言自语道。“我们得去处理一下。” 

5月23日

又一个无底深坑……[5月29号更新]

这个东西……小说看得多的人估计会发现模仿的程度很大,所以……扔上来看看,不行就放弃这个坑了
我是为什么想起来要挖它的呢……
 

Son of the starless night

Born in the night

 

Are you challenging me, son?”

“Of course not, Archmage.” The blue-eyed young man replied respectfully.

“So what is this? Speak, and keep it short. I have urgent matters to attend to.”

“I’m leaving the city, my lord.” After a pause, he added. “And I know I need your signet ring for the paperwork.”

The archmage of Zhentil Keep raised a brow. “I assume you also know that I’m unwilling to let you run away, and that if you do, the whole Keep, with the help of the Black Network, will be hunting you down all across Faerun, in which there is not a single rabbit den inaccessible to us.”

“Yes, my lord.”

 

 

Prologue

 

1358DR, the Year of Troubles 

    Helm, He of the Unsleeping Eyes, God of Guardians, stood vigilant, watching his fellow gods. The assemblage was complete. Every god, demigod, and elemental was in attendance...

“Keepers of the Balance, I address you one and all!”

It was Ao’s voice, and in that voice was heard the power of a being so great that the gods fell to their knees in response.

“Most noble was your heritage! Yours was the power to stave off the ever-present threat of imbalance between Law and Chaos, and yet you chose to act like children, resorting to petty thievery in your request for power…”

“No longer will you sit in your crystal towers, looking down upon the Realms as if they had been created simply to amuse you.”

“No longer will you ignore the very purpose for which you were given life! You shall know your transgressions and remember them for all time. You have sinned against your liege and you will be punished.”

“Now drink deep from the goblet of a true god’s rage!” 

All the gods, save Helm, were cast from the heavens.

 

 

Chapter one

 

1358DR, the Year of Troubles

Jhessail, priestess of the Black Lord, stood with arms locked around her body and her eyes tightly shut. In front of her was a wooden table upon which lay a nice-looking baby. The parents were nowhere to be seen, and yet the little boy was eerily silent, simply watching the armored woman as her fell deep in pray. He was a tiny pretty creature, as are all babies. And yet he was rather unique, with dark brown skin as if deeply tanned. None of his parents had skin like that, but aside from this one difference, his face was strikingly alike with his father, and he had the same blue eyes of his mother.

Suddenly, the priestess opened her eyes, green orbs set aflame by the candle light, or something more. Her arms shot skyward, finger outstretched, as if trying to grab the stars, which were twinkling on the other side of the roof.

 “O Lord Bane, the Dark Lord, Tyrant of the Black Fist, hear your loyal priestess’s call!” The woman almost screamed her prayer, “Set your sight upon this newborn, judge his worth, and grant him your favor!”

Jhessail’s gauntleted right hand began to burn like a torch. Emerald fire consumed her fingers and palm, but she didn’t seem to feel any pain. She raised that flaming fist, touched her forehead with it, and her lips, and the same evil flame leaked from her eyes like tears. Then she set it on the baby’s breastbone.

Or, she tried to.

When her hand was no more than an inch from him, a strange and strong wind hammered open the locked door and blew out several candles. The surviving ones cast the priestess’s huge shadow over the table, and the baby lying on it.

Jhessail let out a startled gasp and froze. A long silence followed.

“Bane’s Black Fist,” with a confused voice, the priestess muttered to herself, “Where is the baby?”

 

1358DR, the Year of Troubles

Allen screamed, cried, kicked, and twisted furiously as Sorrell and Dalmara, his parents, tried to have him swallow a spoon of “disgustingly glue-like stuff”, as he remembered years later. The young warrior battled, though in vain, to keep his stomach clean of any suspicious-smelling thing. It was already late in night, when everyone, except for this poor couple, and other couples just as poor, was deep in slumber.

Well, almost everyone.

A black-clad man walked past Allen’s home, making his way to the great temple of Bane. He wasn’t even conscious of the fact that he’s walking in reality, not just in his mysterious dream. A compelling voice in his mind drove him on, speaking of glory and power beyond his imagination without saying a word. It was a kind of feeling, inserted by the will of a higher existence.

After a terrible struggle with his own beloved son, Sorrell successfully sent a full spoon of “that stuff” into Allen’s mouth. He expected a more desperate fight. But, unexpectedly, the little boy fell silent.

Suddenly afraid that he might have choked his son, the lesser cleric of Bane pulled the spoon out, along with most of the weird food he had just put into a certain stubborn mouth. To his and Dalmara’s relief, young Allen didn’t show any sign of pain. He just stared upward, big blue eyes unblinking, at something invisible to common sight.

And that was when the enormous fireball struck down like a meteor——

at the temple of Bane.

The great and strong building of black marble was consumed and burned down to ruin like a toy. When someone arrived there, they saw a man-shaped horror of pure evil and terrible power rose from within.

They beheld, with unbelieving eyes, their Dark Lord Bane, God of Strife.

In the same instant, a storm of fireballs destroyed every temple all across Faerun, declaring the beginning of the Time of Troubles, when deities walked in flesh beside mortals, when gods waged war against each other, when the great powers could, being proved later, die.

And that instant was also the first time when Allen felt, one of the strongest ones this time, the vibration of the Weave.

 

1364DR

Sorrell and Dalmara were cooking when they came.

Their son had grown into a tiny devil, as destructive as boys of his age tend to be. Without his parents in sight, Allen occupied himself with a great construct of art. There were some clay from a not so watchful neighbor, colorful stones from his best friend and a narrow piece of wood, which looked——and smelled——suspiciously like what’s left of a pipe. Allen meant to build a castle with these things, to raise order from chaos, to found civilization out of what the wild nature had to offer.

It was a grand goal.

So, when the clay castle with stone walls and a wooden flagpole, in all its greatness and magnificence, broke apart in lack of water, Allen the Constructor was furious.

He passed his hand over the ruined stronghold. With an effort of sheer willpower, which reached an impossible state in that instant, he drew energy from a blue white web suddenly visible around his fingers, and commanded the castle to mend itself.

So the castle did.

His parents, standing behind him with plates and bowls in hand, witnessed everything.

Words failed them, for quite a long moment. Before they managed to say anything, someone at the door banged it with an obvious lack of patience.

Jaws hanging open, Sorrell hurried to open the door, and found two city guards in black armor glaring at him, swords tip-down in hands. Seeing the lesser cleric of Bane with nothing more dangerous than a stew-filled bowl in hand, they parted to reveal a third man behind.

He was tall and slim. Without the strong arms to wield sword and shield in a fight, he didn’t seem less dangerous with a wooden rod tucked under his belt. This man had a handsome face with flaming red hair and a pair of piercing green eyes, and there was always a mirthless grin on one corner of his thin lips. Today he wore a black and purple robe inlaid with silver, forming a skeleton face——the symbol of Cyric, new God of Strife, Murder and Death.

Sorrell recognized him instantly, and cursed under his breath.

“What do you want?” He demanded, blocking the doorway with his body.

“I am glad to see you too, Sorrell.” Merith’s grin widened into a smile which didn’t reached his cold, measuring eyes. “Tea, please, for the three of us.”

“And I am glad to tell you that I have no tea for any of you, high priest of the God of All Gods.” Sorrell snapped. “As you can see, I have more urgent business in hand than trading honest words with a faithful of Cyric, such as you.” He motioned with the bowl he was holding, sarcasm dripping from his voice when he put together “honest” with “Cyric”, who was called the Prince of Lies for good reason. In fact, it was Cyric himself who first came up with that title.

Merith didn’t say anything, simply stared at Sorrell. But as if having received a silent order, which was very likely the truth, one city guard suddenly raised his shield and bashed Sorrell in the face. The priest of Bane struggled weakly when the other moved forward to push him back into the house. Blood running freely from one nostril, spots dancing in front of his eyes, Sorrell was dimly surprised when his back found the floor. After several heartbeats of darkness, he was able to see again, only to find Merith extending his hand down, smiling in triumph.

“I think there is a teapot I see on the table.” The wizard said. “Now, my friend, on your feet, please. I would like to treat gentlemen such as you equally.” Sorrell refused to take the hand and tried to stand up by himself, but his head still spun from the impact. Before he could fall again, Dalmara caught his arm and steadied him. The couple looked at each other for a brief moment, then Sorrell went for the teapot, and Dalmara closed the door to Allen’s room.

When everyone in the room had a cup of tea, Sorrell sat down, wiping his nose with a handkerchief. And again, though in a low voice this time, he asked: “What do you want?”

“Sitting down like civilized people as we are,” Merith commented, “is this not a better way to talk, my friends?”

“Just answer my question, Mal” Sorrell snorted. “You know I never liked your fake politeness.”

“Do not ever call me that again,” Merith’s handsome face twisted, for an instant, in what looked like anger and embarrassment blended together, but he calmed himself quickly. “Or it will be highly possible that I might forget my given order and burn you to ash outright.”

“You don’t like to be reminded of your childhood, friend?” Dalmara uttered the last word in the icy way a loyal soldier addresses traitors.

“I think I should just be straight forward and be done with you, considering a certain couple never appreciate kindness and courtesy.” Merith didn’t look at either of them; instead he stared at the cup in his hand. “It is old. When did you buy it? Ten years before your marriage?”

Then he looked up at the cleric of Bane, “This cup is as old, as outdated, as your faith. Five years, and you still mourn over Bane? He has perished. Dust to dust, ash to ash, he is no more.”

“Six years.” Sorrell growled through clenched teeth. “And Xvim is still with us.”

“Ah, it is that long?” Merith feigned a show of surprise. “Xvim is barely a god. Do you not know? He is a mere hellspawn of your former master, just like the so many children Bhaal has left behind. Human, dragon, drow, giant, and maybe goblin also, who gods-damn knows! That demigod is not worth your worship. By the way, who is the sower of strife now?”

“Cyric stole godhood from Bane.” Dalmara retorted. “He’s a pathetic thief and…” Before she could finish, Merith finally lost his temper and stroke out with a quick spell. Invisible force smashed into the woman and stunned her.

“Blaspheme is not to be tolerated.” he announced, and fixed his gaze on the husband, whose eyes fell on Dalmara’s face, filled with concern and fear. “I have had enough of this. Listen to my words very, very carefully, for your life depends on them: You have three days. Come to the Black Sun temple and beg for redemption. They may yet have mercy.”

“Or?” the priest of Bane asked. His voice was weak.

“Or?” the wizard repeated incredulously, “Do you really think you have a choice?” Without waiting for an answer, he stomped out of the house with his guards, leaving a deep-in-thought Sorrell and an unconscious Dalmara behind.

 

 

4月30日

闲来无事IV

Gromph充满恐惧地看着那个夺心魔,脸上顿时全无血色。如果他没有被困在这个该死的球体里,他本可以漫不经心地向它所在的方向扔过去一个致命的咒语,迅速解决这个生物。但现在,他任它摆布。任何一个瞬间闪过Gromph脑海的想法都会如同大声说出来一样被这个夺心魔听到。没有什么Gromph的秘密——Sorcere的秘密——是安全的,除非他可以故意不去想它们。但这样的努力只会让它们像气泡一样浮到他思维的表层来。他现在这个处境中唯一的一件好事情就是,这个灵吸怪轻轻舞动着的触手是在玻璃的外面。夺心魔无法进来攻击Gromph,就像Gromph无法用他的魔法轰杀那个夺心魔一样。

但这灵吸怪的心灵感应就是另一回事了。它轻易穿透了玻璃球体。

Sorcere?那是什么建筑?

一个图象闪现在Gromph的脑海里:Sorcere精雕细琢的钟乳石柱高塔,骄傲地矗立在学院的另两座宏伟建筑旁:金字塔状的Melee-Magthere,以及那有八条分支的神殿Arach-Tinilith

Gromph诅咒了一句,迅速把他的思维集中在一些别的事情上,但已经太晚了。夺心魔向上游,直到它的头露出湖面。它向自己的右边看了看,也就是城市北部的方向,白色的双眼寻找着通向魔索布莱城主要洞穴的地势较高的通道。它的触手微微抬起,嘴也动了起来。

魔法能量的明亮闪动包裹了夺心魔,然后整个湖面与湖岸的景象消失了。Gromph满心失望地意识到事情比他想象地还要糟。俘获了他的家伙不是个普通夺心魔,而是精通魔法的一个。

Gromph马上认出了夺心魔的咒语把他们带到了哪里。他们正身处于连接Dark DominionsTier Breche的开阔洞穴中。筋疲力尽的杜加矮人躺在地面上,很多都受了伤。而其他的士兵,带着巨大的战斧与在战斗中破损严重的盾牌,匆匆冲过通道,被他们的士官催促着冲向被魔法爆炸照亮的Tier Breche

同时很多灰矮人在通道入口处工作,忙碌地准备着攻城武器和掩蔽工事。那些杜加不停地干着活,虽然时不时会有火球、冰弹或带着爆鸣声的闪电束飞来,在他们建立于Tier Breche洞口的围墙边爆炸。一片片明亮的熔化岩石或在冻寒中破碎的石块证实着那些爆炸的威力。

Gromph可以看到这一切,但无法听到——向刚刚到来的夺心魔点头的——杜加矮人们的喊叫声,也闻不到爆炸的硫磺气味。那球体把他困在了一个仅仅充满着他自己呼吸的世界里。而随着他意识到Gracklstugh的军队不仅到达了魔索布莱城,而且还在Tier Breche里面有了立足之地,他的呼吸也变得急促了。那些杜加正在攻击整个城市里,除了各贵族家族的堡垒之外,防御工事最强大的三座建筑。

双手紧贴着他监牢的弯曲墙壁,Gromph瞪大了眼睛,努力寻找着那些本应该守卫这通道的翡翠蜘蛛。但它们却不见踪影。

它们现在侍奉一个不同的主人了,那夺心魔幸灾乐祸地笑着。而那些卓尔很快也将会如此。那军队已经进入了魔索布莱城内部。

谁的军队?Gromph不禁想。显然不是夺心魔军队,否则俘获了他的家伙就会说“我们的军队”了。难道Gracklstugh的杜加们独自来到了魔索布莱城?

回答来得很快。

是的。而且半炼狱兽人和他们一同进军。卓尔不可能对抗他们联合起来的力量。

Gromph无法得知那到底是不是真的。如果他能够重获自由,他就可以用自己的魔法来击退敌人。但为了释放自己,他需要找到一个知晓那所需的特定法术的法师。而且他必须进入Sorcere——具体地说,进入他自己的房间,到那个卓尔巫妖当时施展禁锢术的地方。不幸地是,这二者都在杜加围墙的另一边。

Gromph抬起头看着那夺心魔,思考着……真的如此吗?

带着一些努力,Gromph让他的思维集中在那个想法上。

而那回复带着些许自大的口气。

我当然知道那法术,但我为什么要用它来放你自由?你所有的秘密最终都将是我的。我会把你的心灵剥开,一层一层地,就像——

夺心魔话说到一半突然停了下来,眼睛瞄向一个正在接近的身影。细长的紫色手指紧紧握住玻璃球体。夺心魔双手抱着它,隐藏着里面装着的东西。它还故意用手指抹着玻璃,让自己手掌上的黏液覆盖整个表面。随后它握着玻璃球体的手垂到了身侧,这动作让Gromph趴倒在里面。他爬起来,从玻璃表面唯一干净的地方向外面看去。

一个杜加站在夺心魔跟前,他的脸与禁锢球体平行。和他的同胞一样,这个矮人有浅灰色的皮肤,一个像被硬头锤拍扁了的塌鼻子,以及一个秃头。他一身班驳的灰黑色衣服,就像石头的颜色,而同时他还穿着一件没有任何污迹和磨损的青铜胸甲,Gromph愿意打赌那是附有魔法的。他带着一柄巨斧,双刃中有着幽魂般的形体在翻滚着——Gromph猜那些是丧生在这斧下的灵魂。

那灰矮人并没有把他的头抬起来和夺心魔说话,而是把视线保持在灵吸怪的腰际。灰矮人的目光时不时移到玻璃球体上,而他则重复地对Tier Breche做着手势。

Gromph抬起头,可以看到灵吸怪摇着头,它的触手随之晃动着。这时那个灰矮人,很明显认为自己在和另一个杜加说话,指向了玻璃球体。

Gromph感到惊讶地迅速,夺心魔弯下腰靠近矮人。它的四条触手闪电般地挥出,缠绕在杜加的脸上。矮人胡乱挥动起他的战斧,但夺心魔已经预料到了他的行动,并用魔法进行反制。矮人的身体突然变得僵直,斧子还高举在头上。触手猛然扯动,那杜加的脑袋便像一个成熟了的孢子囊一样裂开了。其中一条触手放松下来,开始把一团团粉色的脑组织舀进夺心魔的嘴里,同时另三条触手还像老虎钳一样固定着矮人的脑袋。Gromph把脸从玻璃后面转开,这情景让他感到恶心。

其他的杜加转过身,脸上带着震惊的表情。其中一两个还动手去拿他们的武器。然而在看到了那夺心魔空荡荡的白色双眼后,他们又马上都放松了下来。Gromph可以想象到迷惑一帮杜加士兵的简单大脑对于这个夺心魔来说有多轻松。他猜想着当那些杜加的目光落在夺心魔身上时,他们看到的是什么——一个他们的同胞,很有可能——而他们或许被强迫不去想那个死掉的士官,他破碎的头骨,和他被吃了一半的大脑。一个接着一个,那些被魔法迷惑的灰矮人们转过身去,继续做着他们刚才的工作。

结束了它的大餐,夺心魔把矮人手里握着的斧子拔了出来,然后把尸体抛在了地上。

现在,它说,你要告诉我怎样进入Sorcere

Gromph瞟了一眼那巨斧。很明显,比起个人利益,那夺心魔并不大在乎这场战争。

你想要魔法。Gromph送出一个想法。

是的。灵吸怪回答。

你想在那些杜加前面进入Sorcere

夺心魔的下一个想法有些犹豫,仿佛它在坦白某个秘密的罪行。

是的。

Gromph微笑着回答,你想知道是否有一扇后门让你可以进入Sorcere,但如果你试着用强力手段从我这里得到相关信息的话,那会花费你太长的时间。等你得到了它们的时候,那些杜加就已经进去了。你只能找到一些没有被他们毁掉或者自己夺走的残羹剩饭。不过我可以给你提供另外一个选择。帮我从这个球体里出去,而我会给你丰厚的回报。我会自愿地把你渴求的魔法交给你。

什么魔法?

在我几个世纪的实验里,我已经创造出了其他法师和术士还无法想象得到的强大法术。

Gromph感觉到夺心魔思想探测魔法的触须更深地刺入他的脑海。

那些法术已经不在我的记忆里了,他告诉它。它们存放于我在Sorcere的私人房间中。在这些里面。

Gromph让他的思想停驻在他没有窗户的工作室中,那些占据着整个房间的巨大桌子上。用打磨过的骨头做成,它拥有若干包含着异次元空间的抽屉。每一个抽屉上面都镶嵌着一枚不同形状的头骨。Gromph想象自己坐在桌前,向特定的一个头骨伸出手,把手指放在眼窝里。抽屉自己打开了,显现出放有两个瓶子的搁物架。每一个瓶子都是用黄金铸成,侧面有绿色玻璃制成的符文状“窗户”,透射着从内部发出的光芒。那些符文是卓尔字母,代表着同一个词:记住。

那是什么?夺心魔问。

我把它们称作“思维瓶”,Gromph说。每一瓶都承载着一个强大的法术——以及所有和它的创造有关的思维。那些法术如此强大,以至于我都不敢使用它们。而同时它们又如此独特,一旦创造出来,我也不能冒险失去它们。为了避免自己受到诱惑,我制造了这些瓶子来盛放它们。任何吞下了它们内容物的人都不仅会得到那些法术,还会知道创造它们的每一个步骤。

一旦我进入了Sorcere,我就会得到它们,夺心魔说。

你不会,除非你先释放我,Gromph说。那些抽屉只响应我的碰触。

大法师又让自己的思想集中在一个他刚刚制造出那张桌子,并对其附加了魔法时所做的实验上。当时他故意降低了自己工作室的屏障,而后用鹰眼术观察了一个学徒闯入工作室,试着打开桌子的抽屉。在那个卓尔把他的手指放到骷髅眼窝里的一瞬间,他全身紧绷起来,开始尖叫。然而,在凋死术生效之前,也只有一个沙哑的嘶叫声从他的喉咙里传出来。白色的头发像枯死的稻草般从他的头上一缕缕掉下来,他的眼球像高热下的真菌一样干瘪萎缩,从眼眶中掉了出来。他的皮肤变得干燥而后开裂,棕色的粉末——脱去水分的血液——从里面涌出来。他慢慢地崩碎瓦解,直到最后,原本有一个卓尔站立过的地方只剩下一些覆满尘土的衣服。

让人印象深刻,夺心魔说。

谢谢,Gromph回答。

这时又一枚火球从围墙上方划过,落在了不远的地面上,一团团熔岩泼溅开来。那些熔化的石头像洒在玻璃上的水一样从夺心魔身上滑落。很明显,它用保护性魔法笼罩了自己。

那么,我们成交了吗?Gromph问。你是否会释放我,并且接受那些思维瓶作为报酬?

你必须告诉我一条进入Sorcere的路径,夺心魔说。它的保护结界防止以魔法途径进入,不是吗?

Gromph微笑着回应,猜对了。但那建筑的一部分不受结界的影响,因为它自成一个半位面:一条通向我私人办公室的竖井。如果你能够把我们传送到那里面去,我会告诉你如何找到入口。

想象一下它,夺心魔命令道。

Gromph压制住了被别人命令给他带来的恼火。

当然,他回答。呃……话说回来,你的名字是?

Sluuguth

假设夺心魔说的是实话,Gromph拥有了一个可以用来对付这个生物的武器。这个灵吸怪当然也明白,而这意味着Sluuguth并不打算让Gromph活下去。这一切都在Gromph脑海中迅速地一闪而过——但愿迅速到让Sluuguth没有注意到——而后Gromph开始专注于那个入口的图象上。他可以感觉到Sluuguth的心灵十分仔细地研究着他们将要传送到的地方。

一个紫色的光圈闪动着出现在他们身边。Sluuguth消失在光圈中,并且在下一个瞬间就已经漂浮在那个竖井里。它似乎在上方和下方都无限地延伸开,而四壁则是看起来似乎可以触及的彻底黑暗。Gromph知道,如果他没有身处于这个玻璃球体中,他的鼻孔里就会充斥着这个半位面潮湿腐败的气味,以及那些把这里称为家园的畸形生物的恶臭。

门在哪儿?Sluuguth问。

Gromph示意一块似乎比其他部分更具实体化的黑暗,解除它的魔法,然后推。

Sluuguth按他说的做了。随着用来描绘它们的钻石粉迸发出光芒,刚刚不可见的符文闪动了起来。当那些光芒消逝之后,Sluuguth推开了通向Gromph私人办公室的门。

整个房间一团混乱——Gromph和卓尔巫妖之间那场魔法大战的结果。密室中央的巨大书桌被卓尔巫妖召唤的回旋刀锋凿出了几处裂口,被Dyrr的精金杖击中的大理石地板也碎裂了。一个书架被完全砸毁,从上面掉落下来的卷轴被践踏过。作为他对于大法师的法术成就的蔑视,卓尔巫妖根本没有碰过它们,即使是在把Gromph禁锢在球体中之后。

墙上那些用骷髅手掌做成的不灭烛台还起着照明作用。书桌后面一把装有华丽皮套的椅子也相对地没有受到多大损伤,而一把给客人坐的硬木椅则倒在地上,椅腿已经破碎。在那后面是一扇黑色大理石门,周围雕刻有闪光的银色符文。

至于那个为保护Gromph而战的黑玛瑙魔像,唯一剩下的就是一根被切断的石臂,凄凉地躺在房间的角落。

一直漂浮在竖井里的Sluuguth探出一根手指,把指尖伸进房间里。密室的一堵墙上瞬间出现一个火焰三角,那刚刚隐形着的符文将一个火元素释放出来。然而,Sluuguth的魔法更快。一枚能量弹从他的指尖射出,击中个元素生物。火元素马上被冻结起来,腰部以下都被困在墙壁里,双臂高举在头上。只有它的眼睛能够活动。两团白热的火焰盯着最终走进房间的Sluuguth

夺心魔点点头,示意那个被冻结的元素生物,它的触手随着动作晃动起来,你没有警告我关于它的事情。

显然没那个必要,Gromph回答。让我们赶快干正事吧。释放我。把这个球体放在书桌后面的椅子上。

Sluuguth把球体放在了软椅上,它的触手扭曲起来,脸上显现出一个或许算是微笑的表情。而后,毫不耽搁地,它开始施放一个咒语。它有三根指头的手做着一系列动作——Gromph觉得自己辨识出了反制禁锢法术的一部分,但那姿势成分似乎比应有的更复杂——然后那球体猛然裂开了,外界的声音涌进来,从四面八方冲向Gromph

一瞬间中,他被扭曲在不同的次元之间,他的身体从限制着它的魔法中解脱出来,耳中的轰鸣让他感觉自己像是一个大钟里的钟锤——

——然后他就坐在了他的椅子里。双眼带着胜利的光芒,他准备抬起手指,用最微小的一个手势启动墙上第二个隐形的符文。纠缠在一起的椭圆形魔符会把Sluuguth吸进一个二次元监牢。

停。

Gromph的手指无法移动。他甚至再也无法想象自己挪动手指。有什么东西牢固地控制住了他的心灵,而且正在一点点粉碎他的意志。Gromph可以感觉到Sluuguth那带着触手的肮脏存在。

他的心跳骤然加快,大法师意识到发生了什么。在对Gromph施展自由术的同时,夺心魔织入了另一个咒语,用来延迟Gromph的动作。而它的效果则给了Sluuguth足够的时间来施放奴役了Gromph的心灵控制法术。

Gromph一动不动地坐在椅子上,等待着夺心魔的下一个命令。如果可以的话,他早就发出受挫的呻吟了。他一直努力不去想墙壁上的那些符文。第一个是为了让Sluuguth在轻松击败——就像Gromph预料的一样——那个火元素之后产生一种虚假的安全感。而第二个是为了让Gromph在被释放之后囚禁这个灵吸怪。但现在,大法师精细的计划全毁了,就像散落一地的玻璃碎片一样。

Sluuguth走到Gromph身后,从他的肩膀上方俯视下来。

打开抽屉。

Gromph弯下腰,把手指放在骷髅的眼窝里,轻轻拉动。抽屉滑开了,里面是两个思维瓶。

把它们从抽屉里拿出来,Sluuguth命令。

Gromph服从了指示,把两个瓶子放在面前的桌子上。他做好了思想准备。现在书桌的保护性魔法已经无效了,夺心魔肯定会把他结果掉,或者至少把他禁锢起来。

然而Sluuguth又给了他一个命令:选一个。

Gromph的手握住了离他较近的瓶子。而下一个瞬间,在Sluuguth的命令下,他又松开手,拿起了另一个瓶子。

喝掉它,Sluuguth命令。

这几个字让Gromph明白,自己计划的第二部分——显然他没能成功地不去想它——也失败了。

几十年前,Gromph创造了这些思维瓶,以防自己落入一个能够读取别人思想的敌人手中。当他说自己根本不知道瓶子里有什么的时候,他并没有撒谎。但是他的确保留了一些信息,一点点模糊的记忆,那就是一旦现在这样的情况出现,他应该把这些瓶子交给他的敌人。但这个sava棋盘已经被反转过来。不管正在被他叛变的双手所打开的瓶子里有什么,那都会降临到Gromph自己身上。

Gromph心灵中的一角尖叫着反抗,但那个被困住的微弱声音没有任何效果。缓慢而不可阻挡地,魔索布莱城大法师把瓶子放到嘴边,喝了下去。

闲来无事III

War of the Spider Queen  Book IV  Extinction

 

玻璃。

有弧度的玻璃。

而外面……

灰色的石头。

通道的石壁。

封闭。

在有弧度的玻璃外面。

Gromph Baenre,魔索布莱城大法师,目不转睛地盯着他监牢外面的粗糙岩石。他被困在了弯曲的玻璃里。在绝对的沉寂中。在一个躺在未知通道的地面上的中空球体中。不能移动,不能呼吸,只能勉强思考。

他看着自己在玻璃的弧面上变形了的倒影。他的面容显得有些粗糙,但感谢他piwafwi上的那枚永恒青春别针,七百年的岁月并没有在他脸上留下皱纹。他银白色的头发松散地漂浮在脑袋周围,不受那只存在于玻璃球体外界的重力所影响。他的眼睛睁着,一眨不眨。

逐渐厌倦了他自己的脸。他转向看着外面的通道石壁,并注意到了一片明亮的石英矿脉。他观察着那矿脉有多宽,晶体有多大。

时间流逝着。

过了一会儿——或许是十天,一年?——Gromph感觉到什么触动他的思想。一种知觉。一个存在。Gromph把他的心灵转向那边,努力寻找着。像一个力量被耗尽的人挣扎着抬起头一样,他集中精力。

Kyorli

什么都没有。

更多的时间流逝着。

他盯着那石英矿脉,挑出其中一块水晶。通过专注于它的表面——虽然透过他面前那弧形的玻璃而显得模糊——他得以集中他的思绪。

他知道了自己正身处于一个玻璃球体里,一个禁锢术的产物。

一个由那个卓尔巫妖Dyrr施放的法术。

他在整个城市的下方,一个不为人知的隧道里,被囚禁在一个能够防止包括预言法术在内的任何手段发现他的魔法中。

被囚禁。

更多的时间流逝着。随着时间的过去,Gromph试着张开嘴,强迫自己眨一下眼,动一动他的手指。

什么都没发生。

如果他能够呼吸的话,他会叹一口气的。但即使他能够行动并说话——施展一个法术——也毫无意义。那卓尔巫妖施放在他身上的魔法十分强大,Gromph很了解它。唯一的解除方法就是有一个同样强大的反制咒语被施展在这个玻璃球体上。而那咒语只能从球体外面,被别的什么人施展。如果这还不够复杂,那个咒语只有在原始的禁锢术所施展的同一位置才会产生效果。

Gromph在这讽刺的事实面前感到泄气。他是魔索布莱城大法师,整个蜘蛛之城最强大的施法者,通晓那些超出其他法师想象力的奥术知识与秘密法术。而现在,即使他能够施展一个祈愿术,那也不会对他有什么帮助。

当另一段无法估量的时间过去后,Gromph再次感觉到了对他思维的触动。它更近了一些,也更坚决。

和上一次一样,Gromph在令人痛苦的努力后才得以专注他的意志。

Kyorli他送出一个心灵感应。帮助我!

那对他心灵的触动消失了。如果他的身体可以动,Gromph的肩膀一定会垂了下来。

突然整个世界疯狂地旋转起来。那石英矿脉不见了,而Gromph发现自己头和脚的方位颠倒了——虽然在他此时的情况下,上与下并没有什么意义。他还发现自己正看着一只两倍于这个玻璃球体大小的巨型棕色老鼠,它的脸被弧形的玻璃所扭曲。粉色的小爪子轻巧地搭在球体顶端,而当那只老鼠嗅这冰冷的玻璃时,它的鼻子不断地抽动着。

Gromph过了一会儿才慢慢地意识到自己观念上的错误。并不是老鼠巨大,而是那球体很小。禁锢术把他缩到了比一只老鼠还小。他依旧迟缓的思维最终认出了老鼠尾巴光秃秃的扭曲尖端。

Kyorli!帮助我。把我带回家。

走?那老鼠用一种感觉,而不是一个字眼回复。

是的,走。去城市。走。

整个时间疯狂地从他眼前经过。随着Kyorli的鼻头和爪子让玻璃球体在通道中凹凸不平的地面上滚动,Gromph可以看到石壁闪过,它们在他的视野中上蹿下跳。

不,他身处的并不是一个通道,只是个石块间的裂缝。一个老鼠大的裂缝……

 

好吧,我实在是懒得翻后面的一部分了……涉及了很多对Kyorli活动的描写以及一些无聊的卓尔与老鼠的心灵交流……总之后来Kyorli把装有Gromph的玻璃球体滚到了一个某种魔法水晶矿脉旁边,魔法辐射让他得以在球体中正常思考和行动,但他还是出不来。而后Gromph命令Kyorli把玻璃球体推进了一条地下暗河里,并让他的魔宠去Sorcere找个法师到这条河——River Surbrin——的另一头,Donigarten湖的岸边营救自己。然而……

 

他在湖心岛的东北角浮出水面。一群群罗斯兽漫无目的地在岸边游荡。Gromph可以辨认出在岛的后面,是闪耀着的纳邦德尔石柱。在Gromph缺席的时候,有人向那巨大的天然石柱中灌注了魔法火焰,来标志魔索布莱城新的一天的到来,但这有多久了?他是否已经消失了一个月,一年?

随着球体漂向那小岛,Gromph又一次尝试着联系Kyorli,但并没有成功。他的老鼠还没有足够的时间到达城市?或者有什么别的事情拖延了她?当那个卓尔巫妖禁锢了Gromph的时候,一支有半炼狱兽人增援的杜加军队正在向城市进发。Gracklstugh的部队或许已经阻挡了通向魔索布莱城的道路?即使如此,一只老鼠也总该能够透过他们的防线。

Gromph又试了一次。

Kyorli!你在吗?

一个模糊的心灵触动就从附近传来——Kyorli正在湖里游泳?Gromph去接触它,但它消失了。

什么东西碰到了球体,轻轻晃动着它。

Kyorli

Gromph睁开他的眼睛,正好看到一只手穿透他旁边的湖面。巨大的紫色手指包裹住了玻璃球体,然后把它拖到了水下。那些覆盖着一层黏液的手指弄脏了球体的表面,但从一道道黏液的痕迹之间,Gromph可以看到一个圆形的脸,而那上面应该长着鼻子和嘴的地方,却是四根扭动着的触手。这个夺心魔的眼睛是乳白色的,没有瞳孔,但Gromph可以感觉到它在盯着自己。它空着的手轻松地划着水,保持一个恰好在水面以下的位置。

它的声音强行探入Gromph的脑海,就像树根插入毫无阻力的松软泥土中。

一个法师,它评述道。多么美味!

2月8日

被点名……

I was running.
I hadn't ran so desperately for some times. I'd tried to hide, I'd tried to elude her, I'd even tried to dimension-door myself away to a secret semi-plane of my own making.
I failed everytime.
So, I was running like a humble thief having been discovered when extending his fingers to the wallet which belongs to a paladin whom in turn belongs to He-who-call-himself-Torm-the-True-and-Torm-the-Brave-for-whatever-damned-reason-he-sees-fit.I ran with waning hope because I know she's much faster, much swifter than me.
And none can escape the Call...None alive, material and humanoid, to be precise.
I turned into a semi-dark corridor,threw myself flat, and remained perfectly still, hoping to be ignored by that elf ranger. By Helm's unseen beard, why there were more those Harpers than there were goblins!
I raised my head just in time to see her face.
And her mouth, thanks to a torch she took with her.
I could read her lips as well as I can hear her voice.
"I, Verita, now make a Call to you, Haldir. You are bound to continue this tag, as are we all."
I managed to whisper with growing despair:"我的列表里没什么人,让我怎么点啊……"
 
被游侠点名了。
首次用E文写日志(的一部分)。
 
规则:击鼓传花游戏,传给谁谁就得接着,否则就得挨罚。请认真对待,不要怕暴露隐私。下面是我的回答,去掉答案就是留给你们的作业,答完后要发表在你们的页面上,且要在标题上注明是谁点了你,你答完后加一道题再传给另外4个人,而且要去他(她)的页面告诉他(她),不可以回点哦,各位赏个脸吧
01 要传答出去的4个人:家父(他没有“页面”,没办法咯。真可惜,恩恩),家母(同家父的情况,“他”换成“她”),坎德人(如果还没被点的话),剩下一个得想想。
 
03 多大:
     19+
04 职业:
     学生
05 兴趣:
     看小说,看电影,放怪物,YY(尤其是挖坑)
06 喜欢的异性类型: 
    两只眼睛的(也不是说我讨厌眼魔,只是共同语言少了一些)
07 专长:
    这个……我去找找我自己的人物卡……估计在政府手里呢
08 有没有什么证书:
    应该有幼儿园、小学、初中和高中学历证书吧
09 有烦恼的事吗:
    有
10 喜欢和讨厌的食物:
    喜欢高等动物蛋白和脂肪,还有生的西红柿和黄瓜。讨厌低等生物制成的食物(“低等”就是指非种子植物,原生生物和真菌)以及咸菜之类的   
11 对你爱的人说一句话:
     唔……这要看“爱”这个动词的定义了……    
12 请介绍你要传答出去的4个人:
   家父:就是我爸。家母:就是我妈。坎德人:就是半身人。剩下一个得想想:这个不是人,是个句子。
13 用一种动物来形容传答给你的人:
   哈,这个问题我喜欢……就是一时想不出来
14 用喜欢的角色来比喻传答问题给你的人的角色:
     FT,怎么一串这种问题……既然是游侠……阿拉贡可以么……
15 用一种食物来形容传问题给你的人:
      翡翠鲜虾面(好吧,我懒得想了,随便说一个……)
16 用颜色来形容将接棒的4个人:
      家父和家母就不在这里随便评价了,那么某小贼……蓝色好了
17 最让你感动或激动的一件事情:
     某次黑上团长见我还没TG9,于是一ROLL出个98把书给了ROLL出31的我
18 理想中的爱情:
     有那么一对儿叫做Alexstrasza和Korialstrasz……
19 如果吃好吃的第一个想到谁:
   赵欧
20 什么时候会想起传问卷给你的人:
     准备在跑团中加些对话内容的时候
21 最近一次哭是为什么:
    忘了
22 最让你后悔的一件事:
    说:“请别逼我……”
23 你最重要的东西:
     恩,勇气好了(虽然我也想要血牙)
24 喜欢什么季节:
     秋天
25 最喜欢的地方是:
     家里
26 最喜欢听的歌是哪首:
      洗衣服的时候喜欢听《夜的第七章》,不过整体上喜欢May it be
27 最想去的时间空间:
     某天凌晨,家里
28 如果只剩下一天的生命会做些什么:
     看一遍魔戒
29 如果生命可以重来,你愿意回到过去重新开始吗:
     要是从头开始就有点麻烦了
30 没有面包的爱情,你会接受吗?:
     会
31 如果给你重新选择一次的机会,你想自己变成谁?为什么?:
      为什么是“重新”……我现在这样也不能说完全是我的选择吧……
      好吧,还是这样就挺好,如果方便的话把某些珐琅质修改一下
32 下一个被点的心情如何: 
    要YY……要YY……
33 如果你是国家领导人,你会提出什么建议:
   换一个国家领导人
34 如果你有1000万,你怎么用拉?:
    存着,什么时候需要什么时候用
    哦,对,买个新电脑
35 你最难忘的一个人是谁: 
    不大确定……
37 你相信爱情么:
     相信
38 你爱的人背叛了你,你会怎么对他(她)(两个人正面对着):
     那要看在什么程度上吧……
39 什么时候会选择放弃:
     实在想放弃
40 什么事最让你称心如意:
     还活着
41 寒假都在干嘛:
    G团,挖坑,填坑,看小说,看电影,上网,跑团,准备跑团,吃饭,睡觉,看书(除了小说……)
42 填了这么多道题,你的最深的感受是什么:
     困
43 有没有挂科,感受是什么:
     有。忘了。
44 对大学生活还满意么:
     还好。
45 觉得爱情重要还是友情重要:
     不知道    
46 如果让你把传给X人的数字改了你改多少:
     0
47 心情不好的时候会干什么:
     继续干正在干的事
48 相信这时间上有永远吗?:
     不相信
49 失去过很重要的东西吗?对现在各方面都可以对你有影响么?
     有。有。
50 最珍惜的是什么? 
      记忆
51 当一个你不爱人爱你的时候你会怎么做?
      “抱歉……”
52 你认为没有焦点的眼神所传达出的信息是什么?
      眼神的焦点是怎么测出来的……
53 理智上有意愿表达但是心理上不愿意表达的时候 怎么办?
     可能表达可能不表达,最后可能还是会表达,也可能还是不表达
2月2日

闲来无事II

(此前Gromph接到Pharaun Mizzrym的报告后,通过魔法探知发现了杜加矮人的军队,正准备告知议会……)

正当Gromph要踏入他密室尽头的石制竖井,下降到他在Sorcere的房间里时,一种让他起鸡皮疙瘩的熟悉感觉袭来。有人在对他进行探知——考虑到他为了防止这种事情发生而采取的预防手段,这是个不小的成就,需要相当高超的技巧。Gromph准备施展一个法术来切断魔法探知,但又停了下来。他现在没有什么事情是需要隐藏起来的,而且他也很想知道某个杜加法师是否成功地侦测到了他的探知。

“你有什么想对我说的吗?”他看着面前的空气问,“或者该让我把你的双眼当场弄瞎?”

省省你的咒语,一个冰冷,刺耳的声音在他脑海中响起。既然我的眼睛在一千多年前就不在我的头颅里了,我怀疑你还能对它们造成多大的伤害。

Dyrr大人,”Gromoh皱着眉头说,“我怎么有幸得到您的注意?”

还有,你是怎么找到我的?他心里想着,虽然他小心地没有说出这个问题。

我想继续我们几天前开展的谈话,年轻的Gromph那巫妖的声音回答。我想细化我之前的提议,更详尽地阐述一下我现在的计划。毕竟,如果我要求你相信我,那么我想我必须先表示对你的信任。

“没错。好吧,我将会很感激的,但我现在有紧急的事情要报告议会。或许我们可以稍晚一些继续我们的谈话?”

Gromph扫视整个房间,他的目光落在了他房间里的水晶球上。那球体中翻滚着发出珍珠般乳光的绿色气体。

啊,当然,大法师意识到。当我的占卜室的位置暴露之后,对于外界预测术的屏蔽被削弱了,他就这样找到了我。我必须找到一些方法来防止这种情况的出现,同时又不会阻碍我自己的尝试。

恐怕我必须现在就和你谈谈,Dyrr向他施压。我不会耽误你太久,而且我相信如果你在面对那些怀有自己计划的女性前先听听我的话,你事后会感到庆幸的。我可以过去找你吗?

Gomph停顿了一下,抬起头瞪着那个正在监视他的不可见的存在,抑制住了自己的怒容。他并不愿意冲动地邀请一个像Dyrr这样的生物进入他的魔法密室。无论那个古老的法师有没有什么Gromph想听的话要说,主母们可确实不会对于需要等待他的到来而感到高兴。他仔细地考虑着,手指轻敲着身边那根魔力强大的木制法杖。如果可能的话,他不愿冒犯Dyrr,但经过了作为不死生物的这几百年,很难说那个巫妖到底什么时候会觉得自己被冒犯了,而什么时候又没有。况且,Gromph站在他自己的密室里,在这里有很多强大的魔法防御是触手可及的……

“好的,Dyrr大人。但我确实必须坚持,我们的对话要简短,我还要去议会办理极为紧急的事务。”

大法师前面几尺处的空气开始变得密集,嗡嗡作响,然后随着一个突然的爆鸣声,那古老的卓尔巫妖站在了他面前。那生物拄着一根他自己的法杖,它由四根在顶端和底端被固定起来的精金杖扭曲在一起组成。在他手肘旁边悬浮着一面黑色金属制成的小圆盾,盾面上是一张带着扭曲的愚蠢笑容的恶魔面孔。Dyrr没有费事地加上他的伪装,而是作为一个恐怖的骷髅站在那里,双眼是死亡的漆黑。

“你好,大法师。对于给你带来的麻烦我表示歉意。”那巫妖说。他空洞的眼窝盯着Gromph。“是什么事情让你要去主母们会面呢,年轻的Gromph?”

“恕我直言,Dyrr大人,我相信那些内容是她们应该听到的,而不是您。那么,您迫不及待地要给予我什么建议?”

“那么,如你所愿,”Dyrr说。“一支军队正在从南边向魔索布莱城进发——灰矮人们显然听说了我们的麻烦并却决定抓住这个给他们带来优势的机遇。”

“是的,我知道,”Gromph厉声说。“正是因为这个我才要马上离开。如果您没有别的事情……”

他朝那个通向他房间的光滑竖井走去。

“我的消息并没有让你感到惊讶,我发现我很满意。”那巫妖说,“如果你到现在还没发现那支杜加军队,我想我就得采取一些手段让你不会注意到它了,如果你明白我的意思。”Dyrr带着一阵诡异的骨骼相互摩擦发出的刺耳声音转过身,看着Gronph的后背。“你或许还记得在我们上一次的谈话中提到了一个你必须作出选择的时刻。那个时刻到了。”

Gromph停下脚步,小心地转过身。他本希望这不是巫妖来面对他的动机,但看起来无论大法师愿不愿意,Dyrr都要逼他正视这个话题。

“一个决定,Dyrr?”

“别跟我装糊涂。我知道你太聪明了,不可能不明白。你只需要把你的报告推延几天,然后你就可以带着关于一支杜加军队已经来到我们门口的消息冲到主母们那儿去,那一定会让她们乱了阵脚。事实上,如果你在一个合适的时间,用合适的方式进行你的报告,我的计划会进行得更顺利。”

“那会让这个城市陷入危难。”Gromph说。

“这个城市已经陷入危难了,年轻的Gromph。我想要做的是,让情况在发展到不可避免的地步时,还能够存在一定程度上的秩序。在未来的几天里你可以给予我很大帮助,或者……”

“我明白了。”Gromph说。

他眯起双眼,考虑着他的选择。他可以假装接受,然后照样做他想做的。但那肯定会招致这个巫妖的怒火,以及在他自己选择的时间与地点所进行的报复。他也可以当场拒绝,而那意味着在此时此地将进行一场殊死决斗,从而决定谁的意愿最终能够取胜。

或者我可以真心地同意,他想。这知道我们能不能把那支进攻城市的大军转化成一阵有意义的混乱,一个宝贵的进展?那无疑会带来极大的损失,但经历了这场血与火的严峻考验后,魔索布莱城或许能够最终蜕变为一个更好,更强有力的城市,在移除了那些施虐狂的女祭司们带来的严苛暴政之后,转而由实用主义的法师们用无情的理性来统治。任何的残忍都被用来促进一个理性的目标,任何多余的行为都被约束,从而产生一个其力量不被浪费在内部斗争的城市。这样的一个城市难道不会更值得他效忠吗?

这样的城市会有Baenre族人的位置吗?他问自己。

Dyrr心目中的那种革命必定会最终导致魔索布莱城第一家族的彻底湮灭。虽然Gromph鄙视他的姐妹们,也厌恶很多居住在Baenre家族里的虚伪亲戚,但他依旧无法允许某些低等家族抢占他高贵而古老的家族在魔索布莱城的无上地位。那么,就只能有一个回答了。

如他的思绪般迅速,Gromoh抬手施放了一股可怕而绚丽的的七彩魔光。这个咒语花了他一些工夫来精心准备,只需一个简单的念头就可以施展。在这个昏暗的洞穴城市中前所未见的色彩在穿梭他的密室里,每一种都带着其独特的能量,破坏与毁灭。一束蓝色的光束从Dyrr身边擦过,让那巫妖的长袍上都产生了微小的电弧。而一道明亮的橙色光束用足以溶解岩石的强酸腐蚀着他古老的血肉。第三道光,一束蕴藏强大魔力的紫光,被巫妖手肘旁活化的小圆盾弹开。那装置在抵挡这攻击的同时像一个恶作剧的孩子般尖笑着。

“我是魔索布莱城大法师,”Gromph怒吼,“我不是什么为别人跑腿的小人物!”

随着酸液泼洒在他身上,嘶嘶作响,啃噬着他古老的身体,Dyrr后退了一步,发出了愤怒的尖啸。灼烧骨骼的腐臭气味弥漫在华丽的密室里。紧随着他的首次攻击,Gromph升起了一道魔法屏障,希望以此将Dyrr的法术反弹回去。大法师相信他需要自己所掌握的所有谋略和诡计,所有防御手段,所有隐秘的与致命的咒语来击败一个像Agrach Dyrr之主这样的强大存在。

Gromph及时地完成了他的反转魔法。Dyrr令人难以置信地迅速恢复过来,以一束危险的黑色负能量还击。如果它命中了大法师,就会将他的很大一部分生命能量剥离。但那漆黑的光束从Gromph的护盾上反弹了回来,击中Dyrr的身体正中央。然而,这产生了一种没有被预见到的效果。那发出爆裂声的黑色能量并没有撕碎那巫妖自己的生命力,而是将它恐怖的能量充满了Agrach Dyrr之主全身。那巫妖大笑起来。

“聪明的一招,Gromph,但恐怕它起了反作用。活物会被那法术严重伤害,但不死生物会被它所强化!”

大法师低声咒骂,再次展开了攻击。这一次他将一束恶毒的绿色光线射向大笑着的巫妖。它在Dyrr的胸骨上穿出一个完美的圆洞,把亡灵的肉体与骨头化为灰烬。那巫妖带着不死生物所能感受到的某种痛苦尖啸了一声,并在Gromph把他彻底解离之前闪到了一边。

就在大法师开始施展另一个法术时,Dyrr咆哮着念出了一个咒语,那黑暗而致命的魔法耙抓着Gromph的血肉,贪婪地吸取着他的体液,在一阵针刺般的剧痛中让他的皮肤都开始褪色。Gromph痛苦地大叫了一声,丢失了他正在施放的法术,被一张大理石长椅绊倒,沉重地摔倒在地上。

该死,他心想。我需要一个喘息的机会。

幸运的是,他身处于自己的密室,周围有很多他可以利用的武器。

Gromph翻身趴在地上,吼道:“Szashune!毁灭他!”

在房间的一个壁龛里,一座高大的,由纯粹的黑玛瑙雕刻而成的四臂剑士活化了。它一边踏入房间,一边像一个真的武士一样挥舞着他漆黑的剑刃。

Dyrr向后跳了几步,说出了一个字。那巫妖马上飞升到那黑玛瑙武士的攻击范围之外。但Gromph抓住这个让对手分神的机会,唤起了几乎是他所知道的法术中最具破坏力的一个,把它抛向了那飘在空中的巫妖。从他伸出的手中射出八枚令人目眩的白热能量球,在那巫妖的不死躯体上炸裂,每一颗都引发了足以震碎磐石的猛烈爆破,在那不死施法者的身上留下了巨大的伤口。那些流星的爆炸也对Gromph的密室造成了不小的破坏,把一对旧书架炸成了粉末。那黑玛瑙魔像也丢了一支手臂,仿佛它只是个被任性的孩子弄坏的玩具。当Dyrr身体的碎片掉在地上时,Gromph发出了胜利的呼喊。

尘土从那飘浮着的巫妖身上扬起,他的头骨垂到了胸前,仿佛维持他活动的魔法就要不复存在了,但那骷髅样的生物马上以令人惊讶的速度恢复了。Dyrr再一次抬起头,诡异而明亮的绿色光芒在他的眼窝里点燃,然后他笑了。

“我的老骨头并不是我存在的全部,Gromph,”他刺耳地说。“你对它们造成了伤害,但却没有太大的真正效果。”

他开始吟唱另一个咒语,但大法师再次攻击,尝试着解除保护着巫妖的结界与魔法。Dyrr的飞行魔法失效了,他落入了在下面等待着的活化雕像的攻击范围。

魔像冲了上去。那巨大的构造体用剩余的三支手臂猛烈地攻击巫妖,它闪亮的黑色面孔毫无表情。密室里回荡着那些强力撞击响起的声音。Gromph露出一个狂野的笑容。

“你或许并没有被束缚在你腐朽的尸体里,巫妖,但如果你被肢解,然后又分别被埋在一打不同的坟墓里,或许你会不大方便施展法术,”他高声说,“你在这里挑战我真是愚蠢!”

Gromph向前走了几步,寻找一个机会再次用魔法攻击。

Dyrr忍受了两下,然后是三下来自那高大雕像的强力挥砍,蹒跚地后退,他的骨骼开裂,破碎。那有着恶魔面孔的小圆盾在他身边飞转,尖笑着阻拦着更多的攻击,格挡开那石制构造体的一次又一次击打。这法师向后退了一步,稳住了脚步,伸展开他的双臂。他闪烁着的黑色长袍变得明亮了,瞬间向外爆发出一片如剃刀般锋利的致命剑刃,从Gromph的雕像上劈下了大块的石头,肆意粉碎着桌子,家具和书籍。

锐利的剑刃穿透了大法师自己强力的魔法防御结界,在好几处割伤了他,不过还没有足以威胁生命的伤口。Gromph赶忙卧倒在地,以躲过从他上面掠过的回旋刀锋。他眨着流入了鲜血的眼睛,看着他的魔像倒塌成一堆没用的黑色石头。

Dyrr发出了自己胜利的呼喊,并冲向大法师,以令人惊诧的速度与迅捷挥舞着他的精金杖。Gromph惊叫一声,向旁边翻滚,恰好躲开了巫妖的全力一击。他刚刚躺过的大理石地面被敲成了碎块。

“那不适合我们这种地位的法师!”Gromph吼道,狼狈地站起来。

Dyrr没有回答。他继续追过来,用精金杖的猛力横扫把整个桌面或者书架敲碎。

Gromph喊出一句咒语,把巫妖的武器从他手中夺走。那精金杖像一支巨人扔出的标枪一样,被无形的力量抛向房间的另一头,钉在了密室的墙上,杖尾还在颤抖。

Dyrr踉跄着恢复平衡,Gromph用一点宝贵的时间创造了一个强力的魔法防御。那是一个闪烁着的球体,能够让最高级的法术之外的全部咒语失效。有了这样的防护手段,他迅速浏览着自己脑海中的魔法,搜索最有效的来对付Agrach Dyrr之主。

“啊,”Dyrr研究着那闪烁的球体,评论道。“一个完美的防御,年轻的Gromph,但并非是以我的能力都无法穿透的。”

那巫妖低念了一个充满极强魔力的字,向前猛冲,骷髅般的爪子伸展着。似乎毫不在意Gromph的防护法术,巫妖的手刺入那舞动着虹光的球体,抓住了大法师的一只手臂。随着那巫妖魔法中的力量全数击中了他,Gromph在惊讶中尖叫了一声。他的防御法球爆成一片闪光,他全身的肌肉不由自主地绷紧。

Gromph Baenre,汝之奥艺困于吾手矣。”Dyrr说道,他裸露的牙齿在他颅骨中强大而可怕的黑暗里闪光。

在他开始坠落之前,大法师瞥见胜利的巫妖俯视着他。Gromph,一动不能动地,径直向下坠落,穿过地板,穿过Sorcere闪烁着的房间与密室,穿过高塔下面,城市下面,整个世界下面的黑色岩石。在令他恐惧的一瞬间里,Gromph感觉自己身处一个无底的深井中,向上通过无穷的黑暗,仰视着他宿敌针尖般大小的身影。接着,他便被那黑暗所包围,在它的怀抱中窒息。

闲来无事&Canada所见

先说点在加拿大看到的东西吧……其实主要就两个:
一是燃烧远征……郁闷啊……已经是到处都有卖的了,都有种买一套回去为了看片头动画的冲动……但又看了下30+加币(乘7就是RMB)的价钱,还是算了……
二是D&D规则书。除了三宝书之外的看到了很多。诸如PHBII,MMIV之类的……还有本我很感兴趣的Hordes of the Abyss,其中一些东西就是最深的地下城最近刚放出的无底深渊几位领主的资料。可惜,价钱也是30+……
好把,其实还有个三,就是电影……还以为在香港一张盘90+就够贵了,结果这里随便什么盘都是20+加币,倒是LOTR的4D9跟国内盗版价钱差不多……
这里空气很好,恩恩。
 
 
前段时间没什么事情干……好吧,除了填挖了有两年的旧坑以及挖了有半年的新坑以及复习期末考试以及准备跑团以及看小说以及玩WOW以及吃饭睡觉等等之外,没什么事情干。所以……
《蛛后之战》,一个以正统黑暗精灵——“正统”的意思就是指那些转投某M以及某E门下的善良家伙之外的——为主角的系列,一共六本,书名都比较深奥……这里不再是主角模版下那两把弯刀,一柄变体矮人飞锤,一张穿心弓,一把由姓Battlehammer的矮人拿着的战斧以及一头星界母黑豹称霸的地方了。在这里你可以体会到魔法的力量。
虽然费伦有12345,有七姐妹,有Samaster,有黑杖同学,有Thay的八位首席,有Cormyr皇家大法师,有Undermountain的那个灰袍疯子,有Cormanthor的Srinshee等等……但真正让我感觉到其强大的——或者说真正在小说中表现出来的,除了七姐妹里敢闯入九层狱,能独自抵挡Thay红袍法师的Simbul外,就是魔索布莱城的Archmage(英文念起来比“大法师”有气势……),班瑞家族长子Gromph Baenre,贡夫班瑞。一直认为在不惊动整个北地的条件下,他有可能独自攻陷密银厅……
所以把他在蛛后之战里的事迹翻译了一下。
 

(蜘蛛神后Lolth突然沉默了,不再回应牧师的祈祷,整个黑暗精灵种族陷入危机。虽然女祭司们用一切手段阻止这个消息的流传,最终所有人还是都知道了这一事实,包括其他种族。在一个夺心魔巫妖的组织下,一场奴隶暴动在魔索布莱城爆发,但黑暗精灵们以沉重的代价将其镇压了。随后魔索布莱城的主母们派出一个小队调查此事,其成员包括Arach Tinilith院长,Baenre家族长女,高阶牧师Quenthel BaenreSorcere教师,法师Pharaun MizzrymMelee Magthere教师,武器大师Ryld ArgithBregan D’aerthe的佣兵,游荡者Valas Hune以及Baenre家族主母Triel Baenre的魔裔卓尔儿子Jeggred。在来自Ched Nasad的大使Faeryl Zauvirr的引导下他们来到了这个魔索布莱城的姐妹城市,却卷入了一场内战。最终大量杜加矮人佣兵的炸弹“意外地”摧毁了Ched Nasad的蛛网状结构,整个城市成为一片废墟。但这支小队成功逃离了城市,并与两个新成员:Ched Nasad前第一家族Melarn的长女,高阶牧师兼黑暗咏唱者Halisstra Melarn,以及她的仆人,牧师Danifae Yauntyrr一起继续调查。同时,在神秘的幕后人物的促使下,一支由杜加矮人和半炼狱兽人组成的军队,分别由灰矮人城市Gracklstugh的首领Horgar Steelshadow, the Crown Prince以及来自Hellgate KeepCambion将军Kaanyr Vhok, the Sceptered One率领,向魔索布莱城进发,而城市内部的叛徒——在上千年里都由一个巫妖在幕后操纵的第四家族Agrach Dyrr也在推波助澜。)

 

 

以下是魔索布莱城ArchmageSorcere主人,Baenre家族长子Gromph Baenre在蛛后之战系列中的主要故事。

 

 

War of the Spider Queen  Book III   Condemnation

 

Gomph Baenre站在一个俯瞰魔索布莱城的露台上,看着下面城市中点点的妖火。他已经在这里等了将近一个小时,而他的耐心已经几乎要耗尽了。在通常情况下,在任何地方的一个小时对于一个有数个世纪岁月等待着他的黑暗精灵来说都不算什么,但这次不一样。大法师在恐惧中等待,害怕那个召唤他来进行这场秘密会谈之人的到来。这不是什么Gromph经常体验到的的感觉,而且他发现他丝毫不喜欢这样。当然,他已经采取了极限的保护措施,准备了一系列强大的防护咒语,携带了仔细挑选过的一些保护性魔法装置。但对于这些预防手段能否阻止将要在这个偏僻的迎风角落与他会面的那个人,大法师并没有太大信心。

Gromph Baenre,”一个冰冷,刺耳的声音响起。在大法师转身之前,他就感觉到了另一个人的存在,一种能够穿透他魔法防御的刺骨寒冷,那是强大而恐怖的魔法的气息。“真是太好了,你接受了我的邀请。我们很久没见了,不是吗?”

那苍老的施法者Dyrr从露台后面的阴影中出现,拄着他华丽的法杖。当他像一个老人一样缓慢地滑动过来,长袍摩擦着地面时,他的双脚似乎根本没有移动。

在他家族中那些野心勃勃的卓尔中,假扮成一个德高望重,拥有令人惊讶的高龄的黑暗精灵很适合Dyrr,但Gromph经过奥术强化过的视觉穿透了他的伪装,看到了后面的真相。Dyrr已经死了,很多个世纪前他就死了。那古老法师的身体只剩下木乃伊般的残破肉体和覆满灰尘的枯骨。他的双手是白骨组成的爪子,他破旧的长袍已经褪色,他的脸是一个恐怖地露齿而笑的骷髅,一对绿色的火团照亮了黑色的眼窝,闪耀着强大灵魂的光芒。

“看来我可怜的伪装没有骗过你,”那巫妖刺耳地说,“事实上,如果你真的被我的小诡计蒙过去,我会失望的,大法师。”

Dyrr大人,”Gromph谨慎地问候。他低下头,但双眼并没有离开那个卓尔巫妖。“事实上,当我发现您还在我们之中时我感到很惊讶。我得到过一些消息说您还生活——呃,就算是生活吧——在您的家族中,与世隔绝。我也多次认为我发现了一双古老而谨慎的手在引导着Agrach Dyrr(家族名)的事务,但我还没有遇到过任何人能宣称在两百多年内见过您,而我们上一次谈话已经是两倍的这个时间之前了。”

“我珍视我的隐私,也鼓励我的后人珍视我的隐私。各方面都考虑到,我的影响最好还是保持不为人知。我们不想让主母们神经紧张,不是吗?”

“的确。以我的经验,她们不太会应付意外情况。”

巫妖笑了,那是种让人血液冻结的恐怖声音。他走得更近些,站在Gromph身旁眺望整个城市。大法师发现这个超自然的不死生物的存在让自己很不安——再一次地,这是一种他很少体验的感觉。

这个行走的幽魂在他空荡荡的头颅里隐藏了什么秘密?Gronph不禁猜想。对于这个城市,他知道什么早已被所有人遗忘的事情?在他变成不死生物之后的岁月里,他的知识已经攀升到了怎样一个无人能及的可怕高度?

这些问题困扰着Gromph,但他决定先把这些猜想放在一边。”

“好吧,Dyrr大人,是您要求这场会面。我们该谈些什么?”

“你一直是令人钦佩地直率,年轻的Gromph,”巫妖说,“这在我们的种族里是个让人耳目一新的品质。直接进入主题,你怎样看待目前我们城市的困境?更具体地,你认为对于统治阶级女牧师的丧失力量,应该做什么?”

“应该做什么?”Gromph回答,“那很难说,考虑到这个问题看起来是‘能够做什么?’直接去恳求深渊魔网的女王,让她恢复对她的牧师的眷顾恐怕并非我力所能及的。Lolth会按照她自己的意愿行事。”

“一如既往。我也并没有暗示你能怎样。”巫妖停顿了一下,他燃烧着的绿色双眼盯着大法师。“今天你俯瞰魔索布莱城,你看到了什么,Gromph?”

“无序。危难。拒绝。”

“或许还有,机遇?”

Gromph犹豫了一瞬间,然后说:“是的,当然。”

“你犹豫了。你不同意我的话?”

“不,并非如此。”

大法师皱了皱眉,小心地安排他的语言。他并不愿冒犯这个力量强大的鬼魂。Dyrr看起来很文明,但心灵并不能一直承受不死岁月的影响。他必须假设没有什么是这个巫妖做不到的。

Dyrr大人,”他说,“您当然已经发现,蜘蛛神后的诡计是无尽的。在我们的生命中唯一可以确定的事情就是Lolth是个严酷而苛求的神祉,一个乐于给予严厉教训的女神。如果她的沉默只是个用来考验她信徒的计策呢?这看起来很像,甚至很有可能就是Lolth收回对她女牧师的眷顾来观察她们有何反应,不是吗?或许——更糟地——是要观察她的牧师的敌人们是否能变得大胆,从阴影中悄悄出来,直接攻击她的仆人?如果是这样,当她厌倦了她的测试,如同收回一样突然地恢复了对她女牧师的全部眷顾的时候,那些愚蠢到胆敢违逆蜘蛛神后的家伙会有什么下场?我不愿陷入这种圈套里。一点也不。”

“你的逻辑很有道理,虽然我认为你或许让谨慎的习惯阻碍了你的思想,”Dyrr说,“我几乎能够同意你,亲爱的小伙子,除了这一个事实:在我行走这个世界的两千多年里,我还从来没有见到过这种事情发生。啊,我能回忆起几次,Lolth在几天里都拒绝给予神术。她也经常决定不再眷顾某个女祭司或者整个家族,让她们落入敌人手中,但她从来没有一连几个月背弃我们整个种族。”这巫妖抬起头仰视上方,做出思考的样子。“这看起来是种很糟糕的对待自己信徒的做法。如果我能够登神,我想我会试着做得更好些。”

“那么您到底有什么建议,Dyrr大人?”

“我还没有提出任何建议,但我确实在考虑,年轻的Gromph,失去了力量的牧师们到底还能否长时间肩负统治这个城市的责任。你和我,我们依旧掌握强大而可怕的力量,不是吗?魔法的奥秘没有抛弃我们,在未来似乎也不会。或许现在是时候从无力掌握它的主母们手中把统治的缰绳夺过来了,并由此保证我们的文明的安全,我们城市的防御。这城市的危机一天天加重。毕竟我们在Dark Dominion外面有很多对手,有其他种族和国度在威胁我们。”

“而那正是我不想急于让卓尔法师与卓尔牧师自相残杀的原因,”Gromph回答。“唯一可能加深我们目前的脆弱性的事情就是发动一场内战。为了不让Ched Nasad的命运降临到我们头上,我们必须维持已有的秩序,直到危机解除。”

“那么你觉得你的盲目忠诚能从女牧师那儿,或者蜘蛛神后那儿得到什么感谢?”Dyrr转身面对Gromph,用一根只有白骨的食指轻敲大法师的胸口。Gromph无法抑制地颤抖了一下。“你有潜力,年轻的Gromph。你并非没有天赋,而且你超越Baenre家族看到了魔索布莱城本身。利用这些品质,仔细考虑在未来的几天你将要选择的道路。事情的发展会给你带来机遇,它能让你变得伟大,也能让你一败涂地。别做出错误的选择。”

Gromph谨慎地后退了一步,站在了空中,飘浮在那洞穴的巨大深渊上方。

“恐怕我得去点亮纳邦德尔石柱了,Dyrr大人。我得离开了……我会仔细考虑你的话。或许对于目前的情况,您看得比我更清晰。”

Gromph缓缓下降到黑暗中,落向下面的城市时,卓尔巫妖那燃烧着的绿色双眼一直跟随着他。他的确会长久而认真地考虑巫妖的话。他或许能够用文明的方式和谨慎的语言搪塞Dyrr一次,但他不可能无限度地这样做。Gromph毫无疑问地知道,下次他们会面的时候,这个巫妖会期望他有一个不同的回答。

1月18日

预告……Son of the starless night trilogy

好吧,只是个设想……写完这些恐怕就懒得写具体的内容了……

Born in the night
艾伦·夜之子,出生在一直被暗夜笼罩的散提尔堡最黑暗的日子里——“黯日”Cyric将这个城市认定为其根据地的那十年。新任的死亡、谋杀与冲突之神的牧师们狂热地搜捕并杀害“异教徒”,依旧忠于Bane与其后人Xvim的散塔林会间谍们网罗所有愿意反抗Cyric的人,而更隐秘更阴暗的存在们则有着他们不为人知的复杂阴谋。
艾伦·夜之子需要在“黯日”信徒的疯狂,暗黑情报网杀手的无情以及交织着魔法与刀刃的谎言之网中生存下来,并在散提尔堡巷道中的黑夜里找到自己的道路……

Survive in the night
艾伦·夜之子,在无冬城学院中度过了几个春秋,并目睹了一种对他而言前所未见的美丽之后,带着并不够强大的死灵知识开始了自己的生活。他知道自己的过去并非仅仅是记忆中的阴影,他知道Cyric奴仆的魔掌能够到达很远的地方,他知道全费伦都有散塔林会的势力,他知道强大而邪恶的魔法力量从未放弃对他的追逐。
但他所不知道的是,在泰斯尔森林的夜晚,当星空被树叶全然遮蔽后,会有怎样的夜晚等待着他……

Live in the night
艾伦·夜之子,在一场不幸的遭遇后拥有了一个崭新的生活,一个崭新的社交圈,甚至是一些崭新的亲人和一个崭新的身体。他在散提尔堡的黑夜中长大,学会了在小心面前敌人的长矛同时,也要小心背后盟友的匕首。他在泰斯尔森林的黑夜中生存,学会了合理运用自己的力量并对此拥有信心。
然而,当他面前似乎没有敌人,背后的盟友却都握着淬毒匕首的时候,他能相信谁?当他所拥有的力量常常显得微不足道的时候,他如何能拥有一丝信心?当他不得不在魔索布莱城永恒的无星之夜里生活,与黑暗精灵的狡诈与邪恶周旋,寻求真正的力量之时,他所学会的似乎都归与全无……
10月28日

我又写东西了……

好久没写东西啊……主要是每次回家时间都很紧。计划是要看一个电影,用来给英语老师布置的周记凑内容(已经扯过V、黑客三部曲、教父和搏击俱乐部了);还要写作业,因为俩数学科代表都是周日晚上收作业;还要玩WOW,因为……因为突然开始喜欢下副本……再加上家父一向管理比较严格,十一点左右就得睡觉,跟学校熄灯一个标准……
今天不一样啊……或者说,昨天不一样啊,我一个人在家,HOHO~~所以砍过天灾军团,补完跑团日志后,想来扯点东西。
 
班剧
十一月生物系学生节,从3字班到6字班,每个班都要出个节目。不过不是都能上,一般新生6个班的节目能上一个就行了。水平有限……
而就在恶搞类班剧明显比较容易YY的情况下,我们的文艺委员和宣传委员还是决定演正剧。
名字?《荆柯刺秦》。
谁是那个刺客?我。
至今我都不明白,找演员的那兄弟Wisdom调整值是负多少。
于是乎,一周有三次排练,晚七点到十点。考虑到我的角色的特殊性质,两幕之间我就不需要下场了。
第一幕,燕太子丹一会儿激昂,一会儿颓废地半酒醉半梦游状和我对话。导演说我要显得很冷酷,因为我是杀手。于是我发现,杀手真是好,台词少啊……
第二幕,我找樊於期将军借他的脑袋。二人ROLL了半天暗语沟通后,将军一拍桌子,“不借!”然后豪迈地说:“我送给你!”挥剑自刎。
好吧,本应该是这样,但将军经常找不到感觉,那最后的两句词说得温文尔雅……于是只能多来几遍。OK了,我终于能站起来了——是的,我们俩一直在跪着喝酒聊天,他能经常起来,我不行啊……
第三幕,秦舞阳同学出现,武艺高强,被选中作为我的副手。这里有一点点格斗动作,应该还不错——如果大家不是拿着报纸卷和网球拍当剑用的话。
第四幕,高渐离送我。明明是人家送我,竟然要我吟半天楚辞一类的东西。最诡异的是,那段词第一句是“大风起兮云飞扬”……当然,后面就不一样了。我不诗朗诵好多年啊,不习惯……
第五幕,我刺秦王。又有一点格斗,我用自制的纸匕首去跟秦王的不锈钢剑拼,最后还要有个飞刀动作。郁闷的是,有一次我一甩手,秦王急忙闪躲,结果淬毒匕首正中秦王脑门……还有一次是匕首从开了一点的窗户(事实上,它就开不大)飞到了外面的阳台上。在我费了半天劲翻出去把匕首拿回来后,秦王拍拍我肩膀:“恩,是当刺客的料”……结尾是秦王用剑把我做掉了,然后灭六国。
第五幕半,“其实,历史还有另一种结局……”旁白如是说。场景不变,我用剑把秦王做掉了。旁白继续说了些“秦国另立新君,出兵复仇,摧枯拉朽般灭了六国——一个人的生死是无法改变历史”之类的……
 
恩……或许演戏是对RP精神的一种培养……
 
普通生物学,一开始以为买到那本华丽的教材就好了。现在我发现……貌似有一堆书都要看……有个兄弟寒假要回安徽给学弟学妹传授经验,讲讲大学生活之类的。我们开玩笑说,让他先跟大家说上半天生物系如何如何轻松(传说真的如此,反正比协和的课少些),等所有人都有些憧憬后,拿一张照片出来:我们宿舍公共厅的桌子上,摆着清华的《基础生命科学》,北大的《普通生物学》一版和二版,影印的英文原版《基础生物学》,图书馆的《植物生理学》一至五版,清华自己的《普通生物学实验指导》,再放上某个系列丛书的《植物生理学》、《微生物学》、《细胞生物学》、《免疫学》、《遗传学》、《环境学》,还有老师课件的打印版,以及其他在图书馆能找到的相关书籍,比如我借了的一本《生物学哲学》之类……满满一桌子。举着这张照片,他说:“看,这些就是我们一科普通生物学要看的所有书啦。”
同一个内容有很多人都要写书,内容都不完全相同。问题就在于老师考你的时候不会只参照一本,连建议的教材都有三种……
 
本来还想写上周六拉薇妮亚完成的“影贼的试炼”的日志,但是……我困了……明天还要早起赶回学校排练……下周再补……
10月27日

跑团日志N续

咳咳,我也来写跑团日志咯……
 
小贼写到:
真北风有些不耐烦:好,我向XX神起誓,我和我的同伴都不会伤害你。
假北风这才舒了一口气,放心地说:你们想要少的人已经几乎被莎尔的力量所禁锢了。
(其实真北风说的是:好,我以水元素之神依悉拉米亚之名起誓,我和我的同伴都不会杀你。)
 
之后(请检定成功的同学往下看,没成功的继续检定……):
具体的审问过程嘛……我不记得了……总之大家从假北风口中没有套出太多信息,主要就是上面那句类谜语的东西。为什么守望堡的家伙都喜欢用类谜语的方式说话呢?恩……这一定是有多方面原因的,比如DM的个人习惯就很可能有一点小小的影响……
发现假北风再也没有什么利用价值,并确认了这家伙背后是大大的落地窗后,真北风歪过头,平淡地对Hurrican(就是从一个很丑的矮人战士突变成一个很丑的半兽人牧师的家伙)说:“把他撞下去。”
于是半兽人撞了。
相当成功。
假北风飞出去了,掉在了护城河干涸的河床里。
(DM:你不是说你们不杀他吗?
   俺:我们没杀他,是那段坠落杀了他。
   DM:啊,借刀杀人那段我给忘了……)
 
之后,大家回头去清扫戴维瑞尔所在房间里的家伙。依靠两个牧师的“凌空而行”,大家从假北风所在的魔法塔的窗户里走了出去,休息过后又走到了格斗塔的落地窗外面。正当大家准备砸窗户的时候——
窗户被一个人打开了……
小贼勇敢地进去侦察,转悠了一会儿之后突然被墙角里的一团阴影擒抱住,一把匕首顶在了她脖子上。小贼明智地没出声音。外面的大家等不及,下决心开工了。北风(现在只有一个了)还是利用多重力墙战术分割敌人,然后是蛮子熊啊,小德啊,牧师啊,闪电啊乱入,力墙内的敌人挺快被解决了。而小贼、某神秘人物以及四个坏蛋被封在了外面。坏蛋决定去找援兵,神秘人物和小贼勇敢地去偷袭,但显然打不过四个重甲敌人。神秘人物用黑暗结界(就是SA的黑暗术……)笼罩了楼梯间造成混乱,之后又在楼梯上扔了个黑暗术,拖延了一段时间,并躲开了剩余敌人的攻击(具体做法就是当敌人从楼梯上向下冲的时候,在黑暗术范围内的神秘人物扒在楼梯外侧边缘,于是就躲开了……)。与众人会面后,大家得知他是一个黑暗精灵(看出来的),来自魔索布莱城,要为他的家族夺回万象无常牌。大家不愿意这么早就给他,他也知道自己不是这么多人的对手,于是他——凯尔勒 尘(这是哪门子低阶贵族的姓氏……)同意和大家一起旅行,只要大家最终能把牌还给他。
之后,大家就开始努力去找那个“几乎被莎尔的力量所禁锢了”的人。据大家介绍,那个人是铁匠的女儿,和戴维瑞尔有过比较复杂的关系。经过辛勤地取20后,众人在一间破旧的,但从各种迹象上看近期有人居住的小房子的貌似是床下的暗门里的地下室里发现了——
一个麻袋。
蛮子把麻袋和其内含物扛了出来,打开一看,就是铁匠的女儿。原来“几乎被莎尔的力量所禁锢了”就是被塞在一个充满黑暗的麻袋里……
面对救命恩人,她道出了整个故事……
 
她和守望堡城主戴维瑞尔相爱,原本就是如此简单。然而戴维瑞尔的副手凯斯也对她有好感——但这只是单方向的。凯斯并没有公开地对城主二人有什么动作,在暗中却用各种方法说服了她,去执行一个“对戴维瑞尔有好处”的计划。对于戴维瑞尔而言,之后的事情是这样的:在他有一次以城主身份出访的时候,他的副官因为嫉妒和仇恨而杀死了他的爱人,并逃跑了。愤怒的戴维瑞尔丝毫没有理会其他人的劝阻,以及海姆的教义中对于公正与律法的坚持,而独自追上了凯斯,残忍地处决了他。守望堡城主以为事情都结束了,但过了几天,一个使者把他带到了一个地方。在那里,他看到了活生生的凯斯,以及他的爱人。原来,凯斯早已被黑暗女神莎尔所腐化,这一切都是他试图让戴维瑞尔堕落的一个计划,核心就是要引诱守望堡城主进行不公正的复仇,打破司法程序。“复仇”正是莎尔的神职之一。而无论是铁匠女儿的死还是凯斯的死,都仅仅是幻象而已。戴维瑞尔意识到自己已经背离了守卫之神海姆的道路,在无奈与悔恨之下接受了莎尔信徒们的指挥,任凭守望堡成为莎尔信徒的秘密根据地。
 
之后发生的事情……说实话,我就不知道了……去响应了一下自然的召唤,回来的时候就已经是“戴维瑞尔沐浴在海姆圣者的光辉下”之类的。
所以,请游侠补全吧……