The light of dawn shone down.
A peaceful day in Mordor began again. Busy people began to prepare for work, and there was a faint sound of children playing in their ears.
Rainbord tidied up his clothes, reached for the curved sword that was mixed with a trace of mithril, and turned to walk towards his post. He was a half-drow, and he had been in Mordor for some time. As a drow ranger, he was the first to follow the chief warrior here. From time to time, people greeted him on the road, and Rainbord nodded and smiled slightly. He had always hoped to change people's views on the drows. Maybe other places were still hostile to the drows, but Mordor had accepted them.
There were not many female drows in Mordor.
These stubborn female drows still gathered around the priest. For a long time, the concept of male inferiority still made it difficult for them to recognize the status of other male drows.
It was difficult to change thousands of years of tradition in a short time.
That was why those damn female drows rejected Mordor, and also rejected these male drows who were getting higher and higher in status.
Rainbord knew all of this.
He knew why the chief priest had been unwilling to completely get close to Mordor. Because when the Dark Maiden fell, although she died in the hands of her mother, there was still something left.
Just recently, the female drows had contacted the Underdark, and they seemed to have received some help.
At least when he went back last time, he saw some specialties from the Underdark.
Rainbord was a half-drow.
In fact.
Almost all those who stayed in Mordor and had a strong sense of identity with Mordor were half-drow. Many of those who stayed in their original groups were pure-blooded drows, and the people they could influence.
Rainbord liked it here.
Mordor gave him a way to exchange his strength for status, instead of having to work hard like in the past. Even if he made countless efforts, his status was always lower than those female priests.
There were many curious eyes on the road!
There were only one or two hundred drows in Mordor, all of whom were first-class elites. From time to time, outsiders would be surprised to see them.
Rainbord was used to it.
People greeted him all the time on the road, and some invited him to drink in the evening, but Rainbord refused.
He did not touch alcohol.
As a warrior who was strict with himself, Rainbord was very demanding of himself. He hoped to enter the realm of legends one day. As a high-grade professional who had just advanced, this possibility was still very high.
"Lord Rainbord! … "
At the corner of the street, a somewhat timid voice sounded in Rainbord's ears. This gentle voice made him stop in his tracks. When he turned around, his cold face couldn't help but reveal a trace of a smile. He said softly, "Lucina. Good morning. "
A young and immature girl.
Her ears were slightly pointed, which meant that she was a half-elf.
"You haven't had breakfast yet, have you?"
A faint blush appeared on the little girl's fair face. She timidly handed him a lunchbox and shyly said, "This is for you."
"I won't disturb you anymore. I'll head back first. "
When the other Gnomes saw this, some of them gave kind laughs, which made the little girl's footsteps become even more frantic.
Even Rainbord himself couldn't help blushing slightly, but he was very dark, so no one could see anything. Because their image in people's eyes was already very bad, after coming to live in Mordor, the Drow Warrior had been strict with them. If anything out of line happened, the Warrior would even personally whip the offender. Therefore, the Drow Warriors in Mordor gave people the impression that they were serious, strict, rigid, cold, and so on.
That was the feeling that Rainbord gave people before.
For a long time, although the Drow Warriors were accepted by Mordor, they did not really integrate into the people.
Others were afraid of them and carefully kept a distance from them.
This situation was until one thing happened.
Demon invasion!
The Disciples of Fear summoned demons in Mordor, causing great damage to the city and killing many innocent people.
That day, Rainbord also joined the battle.
As a high-grade Drow Warrior, he discovered the demons immediately and protected the civilians near the street where he lived. At the same time, he also killed a Hezrou in a bloody battle and saved a little half-elf girl.
That was the girl just now.
For this reason, he lost an arm, and it was the priest of the temple who cast 'Limb Regeneration' on him to recover.
Everything changed.
Rainbord suddenly found that people around him began to treat him kindly, and even the aunt next door would help him clean the yard from time to time.
Every morning, people began to greet him.
Although Rainbord only nodded slightly in response many times, people seemed to have gotten used to and accepted his serious attitude.
All along.
The Drows lacked a chance to prove themselves, and the demon invasion made many people agree with them.
"It seems that the little girl is interested in you!"
There was a teasing voice from his companions.
Facing the teasing of his companions, Rainbord thought seriously and said seriously, "If I can, I want to marry her."
Everyone was surprised.
Then there was the noise of other guards. Many of these people were pirates, and their temperament was not as calm as the Drow Warriors.
Rainbord liked the little girl.
As a Drow Warrior with strong self-esteem, he hated the female Drows in the tribe.
Strong, domineering, rude, arrogant …
Rainbord could use many words to describe his views on female Drows, because since he was a child, female Drows had left a huge shadow in his heart.
His ideal opposite sex should be someone like Lucina.
If he liked her, he would marry her.
As a serious Drow Warrior, Rainbord thought so.
…
The handover was completed quickly.
Rainbord led a team of people to guard outside a building. This was the core forbidden area of Mordor, and even he did not enter.
Every day, there were three Drow Warriors leading the team to guard day and night. No one was allowed to enter here except for Sir Søren, the two witches, and Miss Vivian. They were the guards outside, and there were many magic traps inside. There had always been many enemies who wanted to spy on the secrets, but these people ended up miserable.
Everything seemed to be the same.
But today, when Rainbord was patrolling outside a house, he suddenly felt his heart beat faster, and his hair stood up. He could not help but tense up and enter a combat state. At the same time, he pressed his hand on the hilt of his sword.
There was an invisible aura.
There must be something locked up in this house!
When Rainbord turned to look at the others around him, he suddenly found that everyone had the same expression.
"Dragon's Aura!?"
A man who claimed that eight of his ribs had been broken by a white dragon suddenly jumped up. His voice was slightly excited and trembling. He said excitedly, "I will never be wrong! This must be the feeling of the Dragon's Aura! "
This man was called Bodor.
A very rare name. He used to be an elite pirate troop, but now he was transferred to guard the forbidden area of Mordor.
This was a talkative man.
However, he had a good relationship with others. He liked to drink and brag. His favorite thing to do was to take off his shirt in the tavern after getting drunk, revealing the huge scar on his chest. He would tell others how he followed Sir Søren to slay dragons, and then how he was hit by an adult white dragon's tail. After eight of his ribs were broken, he still survived tenaciously.
This was an old pirate.
The real elite of Mordor, the elite of the elite. Even Rainbord was not sure if he could beat him.
He was one of the few survivors of the white dragon battle!
…
Day and night alternated.
The people of Mordor were performing every day. The tavern was always the most lively place. Here, you could hear a one-armed old man telling people how they fought the Swamp King in an absolute disadvantage. Here, you might also meet a guy who liked to take off his shirt and brag that he had been hit by an adult dragon.
There were such stories every day.
From the naval battle of the son of Dagon, the fall of the Swamp King, the decisive battle of Raging Sand Island, the dragon slaying battle, against the indigenous people, against the fleet of the southern island countries, against the cruel and ferocious Vrykul pirates, to the expedition to Autumnfall, and so on!
You can't get enough of the stories here.
They were all warriors, and they were also survivors. Maybe they would die in some places in the future, but they would leave their own shadows in these stories.
Mordor.
This rising city in the outer islands was like a star. Its glory belonged to Søren, but it also belonged to these unknown people.
This was the soul of Mordor!
…
(PS: I suddenly felt like writing, so I added a short paragraph.)
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