Cthulhu Gonfalon Chapter 92:

Liquor is a good thing, which is of great help in enhancing the atmosphere of emotional mediation.

The premise is, don’t drink too much.

The older dwarf has a very convenient magic item, a hip flask. This jug is a silver flat jug, which looks unusually delicate and gorgeous. It has detailed lines that are contrary to the aesthetics of the dwarves. If you study carefully, you can find that it is not painted with paint, but with countless Inlaid with tiny gems. Anyone with a little foresight can see that it is an exquisite work of art; those with more artistic knowledge can also see that it has a distinctive elven style; as for those experts who study elven culture, they can. After careful study, it is judged that it is not the style of contemporary elves, but the style of the ancient elves kingdom.

Actually, it is not an ordinary hip flask, but an extraordinary treasure.

Its name is "Endless Flask".

The name is enough to explain the problem. Every time it consumes the magic power equivalent to casting a low-level spell, it can produce some wine. If it's fine wine, you can make about one catty; ordinary sweet wine or spirits can be about three catties; sparkling ale or ordinary inferior wine can reach five catties.

Mages who are familiar with enchanting spells and making magic props may know that there is a kind of magic props called "endless kettle". This endless jug is something similar to it, but the efficiency of producing wine is much slower than producing water. After all, the level of detail of the two things is completely incomparable.

The older dwarf is not a very powerful spellcaster, but with his magic power, enough spirits can be poured from this flask, at least... enough for the entire exploration team to drink.

In fact, more than enough.

If it weren’t for the few Hops and other people who were either non-drinking by nature, or clever enough to pretend to be drunk after the first drink, they were still awake, maybe the joint exploration team arrived on the first night of the camp. Most of them will freeze to death because all of them are drunk and sleepy.

Fortunately, there are still a few sober people after all.

Hopes, who was flushed from drinking a little wine, took a few non-drinkers, dragged the drunk guys into the tent one by one, and threw them on the bed with thick hay underneath. , And then cover it with a quilt. Although it is not important for everyone alone, there are hundreds of people in the entire joint exploration team, and now they are all down.

So, when the last drunk cat was dragged into the tent and covered with the quilt, everyone except Hopps was exhausted.

"Rest, rest! Everyone should have a good rest!" Hopps waved his hand to let everyone go to rest, and he came to the huge bonfire in the middle of the camp, watching the flames that burned with magical power. , Feeling the warmth coming from above, sighed softly.

"It was so noisy on the first day, I don't know what will happen in the future?"

On this cold winter night, he was not the only one who sighed so much.

About two thousand miles away to the south, on the "border line" where the merchants and the nobles crossed forces, some people were also expressing similar sighs.

"It was so troublesome on the first day, how can I get it later!"

The one who sighed like this was a middle-aged man with a half-white hair. He was wearing a light leather armor that was easy to move, and he carried an equally convenient machete. Both the leather armor and the scimitar were dark, and there was almost no way to tell in this dark clouded night. The only thing that could be vaguely seen was the white hair on his head.

In his vicinity, there are many people who are also wearing black leather armor and holding various blackened weapons. They even wrapped their heads in black hoods, which looked like shadows that could move freely.

Ghostly, terrifying, full of death.

In fact, what they did was indeed something that brought death.

Under their feet, an aristocratic patrol lay on the ground everywhere. Everyone had more than one wound. Even the smallest and shallowest wound was fatal.

There is no doubt that these patrolmen are all dead. Many of them still had expressions of astonishment and surprise on their faces, and they could see that they were suddenly attacked, and they were killed before they even had time to react.

"Check again." After the middle-aged man sighed, he said in a feelingless tone, "Make sure there is no livelihood."

So the people in black who seemed to be hiding in the shadows wielded their weapons, adding at least two wounds to the corpse of every patrolman enough to turn a living person into a dead person.

The middle-aged man looked at all this with satisfaction, then waved his hand, leading the group of people into the night, and soon disappeared without a trace.

The next morning, the nobleman sent an officer who found that the soldiers on the night patrol had not yet returned, with some cavalry, searched all the way along the patrol route, and quickly found the corpses that had been frozen so hard that even the blood had solidified.

He furrowed his brows, his face gloomy, looked at the corpses carefully, and then ordered them to be transported back.

He is a knight and comes from a family of barons. These are the soldiers he brought from the territory, the private soldiers of his family, and many people even grew up with him since childhood, and they are considered his **** team. He brought these people here because he wanted to make a contribution or win a vote. But I didn't expect to die so much before I got any benefits.

At noon that day, after arranging some things, he took a few soldiers and galloped toward the superior's station.

When it was getting late, they arrived in a small town. That was the residence of a viscount. Like the young knight, the viscount took his private soldiers all the way to the border to see if he could make a profit. Because they have the same ideas, their relationship is pretty good.

The knight introduced the attack on his patrolmen. The viscount was surprised, and then he began to worry-if the enemy who could kill six experienced patrolmen at once, if he came to attack him, he The defensive force here may not really be enough.

So he became nervous and used magic props to contact a higher level-the earl who mastered this territory.

The earl did not make a fuss about the deaths of a few patrolmen~IndoMTL.com~ In his opinion, the dead are really insignificant, right should be attacked by monsters.

Well, I was attacked by a monster. This is a good explanation.

Although the knight has repeatedly emphasized that the wounds on the patrolmen are definitely made by weapons and not by the minions of monsters, Lord Earl has made a conclusion.

No matter how the patrolmen died, he said they were attacked by monsters, that is, they were attacked by monsters.

The angry knight was helpless, and drank a lot of wine with the same helpless and frightened Viscount, and got drunk.

They stayed drunk until the next afternoon.

When the Merchant faction and the Northwestern Republic's joint prospecting team finally awakened from the hangover and began to work, the knight and the Viscount who were awakened from drunkenness got a shocking news.

Master Earl was attacked and wounded. One of his knights was killed and more than twenty soldiers were killed and injured. (To be continued.)