Warhammer: Start with a Dog

Chapter 282 "Can Bats Get Lost?"

The two frail and frightened mortals were dragged out of their dilapidated off-road vehicle and carried to the Primarch like little chickens.

When they were released and thrown down, the two guys, who were either lucky or unlucky, fell together in the fine sand in front of the tall figure, stirring up a cloud of dust.

Ramizarn gathered up his long hair and looked at them carefully for a while.

The two local residents should be males in terms of their figures - the reason for this is that their heads and faces were wrapped in layers of bandages and their faces could not be seen at all.

Including the ears, mouths and noses and any skin exposed outside the gray and tattered clothes were tightly covered by dirty cloth, and their eyes were tightly covered with goggles - Ramizarn suddenly realized at this moment that the never-ending sandstorms on this planet carried fine sand like broken glass in the wind - they were enough to lick off the surface of the skin and eyes of any unprotected mortal like rough sandpaper in a few minutes.

But he himself had obviously been in this sandpaper-like wind for so long and had no feeling.

... Never mind, it must be the strength of the Primarch's body, just get used to it, no need to delve into it.

"You..." He just started to speak, and one of the two trembling mortals heard the voice and boldly raised his head to look at him, and then froze - physically, his eyes rolled up.

"..." Ramizane was silent for a second, and Talos, who was still crying just now, seemed to suddenly remember his original duty and stepped forward to check on the unconscious person.

"Fear." The prophet told his master in a chanting tone, "The fear of your majesty made him dare not look directly at you."

"... Just say he fainted, Talos. - Based on the results of many sample investigations, he is very likely to have a giant fear." (*Some kind of impatient exhalation)

When the Night Haunter formally spoke to people again in front of the descendants for the first time in ten thousand years, speaking a full sentence, his pronunciation was so clear and soft, still with the unique accent of the language of the dead world, but controlled by a calm, steady, logical and completely without a trace of cynicism and pain. The deeper things contained in it quickly stirred up thousands of waves in the silent communication of the Night Lords.

Talos stiffened for a moment, then quickly raised his head to look at the Primarch who was talking to him, the eyepiece lens on the skull mask glittering.

Everyone heard the prophet seem to breathe hard and gasp under the grid of his helmet.

"As you wish, father. Thank you for your teachings."

The voice of the prophet of the Eighth Legion sounded almost choking with grievance.

Lami Zane didn't know how to respond, so he closed his mouth and turned his eyes to the remaining mortal.

This man's dress was slightly different from his companions. It seemed that he had already untied the bandage covering his lips in advance in preparation for talking or drinking water, but the appearance of the Night Lords might have prevented him from wrapping himself again, so now his lips and the fragile skin around him had been worn by glass gravel and began to bleed.

The thin smell of human blood spreading in the wind made some people in the Night Lords start to stir.

They were silent in their internal communication channels, listening to Ursus drooling and mumbling about his blood god, and betting on a smaller and more confidential channel who could get the remains of this fool after being killed by the Primarch as a new supply for their own claws.

Ramizane noticed that although the other party was so scared that he couldn't stand up and his heartbeat was almost bursting, the man's body language showed that he had not completely lost his mind. He also noticed the instruments and backpacks carried by the two men, so he thought more carefully and then spoke again.

When he opened his lips, a very ominous premonition began to emerge in the mind of a certain Primarch who shared the sight - Conrad Curze could see and hear what the current body saw and heard. He had no eyes to close and no ears to plug. All external stimuli came from some kind of mystical resonance transmission, reaching his extraordinary soul essence, regardless of whether he was ready to accept it. (* Could it be...)

"Good evening. We are lost, I think. Can you provide some help?" (* What... (suspicious, long pause) What nonsense are you talking about?)

The other party's thin neck bulged with blue veins, and the mortal's eyes were wide open due to shock, which could be seen through his worn goggles.

A loud gasp suddenly passed through the warband's communicator. It was not known which impatient guy made it. Talos responded with a threatening gesture.

"Lost, lost?" The poor man trembled his lips and repeated in disbelief and stammering.

"Yes." The eighth primarch (body) said with a beggar-like appearance (only rags) and an elegant tone that was extremely inconsistent with his clothes, "It's like this, our ship got lost in the warp and got here."

The panicked mortals listened with irresistible fascination to the primarch's almost poetic voice. The end of each word would have a deep and graceful upward twist, "No other inhabited worlds have been found nearby, so we We came down here to see if there is anything we can do to help - so do you know how or where we can contact the administrators of this planet? A weak planet? There are eighty-one descendants of the Eighth Legion around you. That’s enough.)

The word "Trek" clearly touched something, for everyone observed the vast amount of understanding and sympathy that immediately flowed into the body and tone of the mortal's body upon hearing the word.

"It's also a subspace trek... What a pity, sir, our manager...?" The man who was initially led into serious thinking because of his sympathy for the same problem, the poetic and soft tone of the other party and the too normal content of the conversation gradually changed. Gotta be a little calmer.

"Ah, with all due respect, sir," he swallowed, "As for the manager, the regent is in the temple city. If you can contact me... I can. I just talked to Eruko," the man When he said this, he glanced at his unconscious companion, "We have just repaired the twelfth eastern communication tower... I mean, my name is Reval, and I am a storm diviner. I happen to be in charge of communications. ”

"Oh, an excellent title, and your job sounds important, Reval." (*You are complimenting a weakling...you will be torn apart by my heirs, scum, and criminals in no time.)

"Ah, yes, yes sir." Although this outsider and his group of tall men looked scary and menacing, their noble temperament, elegant words, and friendly attitude made the technician's words gradually fade away. It became smoother - but he did not dare to look closely at the surface of the thick dark armor, but only dared to stare at the slender and pale calves of the person in front of him - a strange thought came to him: He is so thin, his body is longer than the lack of food. The child is still thin.

Reval liked the sound of the other person's voice, kind and patient, as if he really cared about what the person he was talking to had to say. "Actually, in an older way, according to my father, I am a technician. Weather forecasting is only a small part of the work. I am also responsible for maintenance and exploration."

"I see," the tall, thin and pale ghost replied, "then we are so lucky to meet you. Before we start contacting you, would you like to tell me about your temple city and regent?"

"Of course, of course, my sir, after all we haven't seen anyone else here for many years...since the day of the collapse."

"The day of the collapse?"

"Yes, according to records, it was four hundred and seventy years ago when our ancestors landed here..."

Chapter 286/632
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Warhammer: Start with a DogCh.286/632 [45.25%]