Chapter 3 Chapter One

Drizzt didn't think the hiding place was sacred.Bruenor Warhammer's one-horned helm was carried on a forked club; he made the hollow his home.A few steps behind the helmet is the stone wall and back wall of the depression. Under the cover of the natural barrier, only the place where the helmet is located can receive the glimmer of sunlight. (Annotation: This should be the uncollapsed part of the basement of Withergroe's Tower) Drizzt is planning that, he wants to see that helmet, he will never want to forget; he not only wants to remember Bruno, not just Want to remember friends.

Most of all, the creature who had committed this terrible crime against him and his world. Clinging to the ground, he crawled into the low ground through a gap between two collapsed columns.He was forced to move inch by inch then, but he didn't care, he was even relieved by it.His state of lack of solace and most of his bestiality made him feel comfortable, replacing all pain with numbness; even more than that, being caught in this situation was a further reminder of his own identity, and if he wanted to live, he would have to rely on it. Drizzt Do'Urden in Icewind Dale no longer exists, Bruenor, Catti-brie, Wulfgar and Regis' friends no longer exist, accept Monterey DiBlanche's statement about Merika's nature and spirit The teachings of the Ranger ceased to exist.He was once again the lone drow wandering outside Menzoberranzan, a traitor in exile outside the dark elf city, convicted of betraying the leadership of the priestess and killing his own father.

He's a hunter, defending against the wild, desolate Underdark creatures purely by instinct, and he's about to make the orc army that kills his fellows pay dearly. He is a hunter, a creature who has cut off all thoughts except survival, even the pain of losing Alifen. Drizzt knelt before the hallowed tomb, watching the rays of the rising sun fall on his tilted helm.Bruenor had lost one of his helm horns in the ages past before Drizzt was born; lower down. Delicate fingers lifted to caress the cracked face of the severed horn, and Drizzt could still smell Bruenor on the leather straps, as if the chubby dwarf was crouching beside him, as if they had just returned from another fierce fight. , panting, laughing loudly, and sweating profusely.

Drow closed his eyes, and Bruno's miserable scene resurfaced again.He saw the side of the pure white Witherglu Tower on fire, and a lone dwarf rushed to the top, giving orders before dying tragically; He closed his eyes tighter to hold back the tears, and to beat them he had to throw them far away.A fighter like him had no room for such emotions.Drizzt opened his eyes, staring at the helmet again, drawing strength from his own rage.He looked against the sunlight into the deep darkness behind the helmet, where his discarded boots were placed. They were no longer necessary to him, like debilitating grief.

Drizzt felt his stomach ache against the ground as it emerged from the rocky crevice and entered the afternoon sun.After getting out of his body and feeling the wind blowing on his back, he jumped up almost immediately and looked around.His piercing eyes searched every dark shadow, every gleam of daylight; his bare feet conveyed the cold touch of the wasteland. After a superficial inspection, the hunter ran to higher terrain. As the sun sank below the western horizon, he passed the back of the mountain just as he was passing, and there he waited, surveying the area; Finally, a bonfire lit in the distance.

Drizzt's hand instinctively reached for the onyx statuette on his belt, but he did not remove it to summon Guenhwyvar, not tonight. His eyesight sharpened as the night grew darker around him, and Drizzt was off, elusive as a feather on an autumn breeze.His movement is not restricted by the direction of the mountain road, because his agility is not hindered by the rocks and barnyard grass at all; he shuttles through the treetops with ease, so light that even many jungle creatures cannot hear his approaching sound, if it is not for the air current Take his scent and they will never notice his passing.

When he was young, he came to a small stream, and with perfect balance, he jumped from one slippery stone to another without the soles of his feet shaking at all. The moment he rushed down the fork in the mountain, he couldn't see the bonfire in the distance almost immediately, but Drizzt, who had already planned the route at a high place, knew how to move forward, as if anger was guiding him for a long and determined way out. Down a river valley, around a forest, Drow spotted the campfire again, and he was close enough now to make out the silhouettes of creatures around the fire.They were orcs, he recognized right away, their height, broad shoulders, and slightly hunched stance as they moved about.A pair of orcs were arguing - which was normal - Drizzt knew their guttural language well, and it was understandable that their quarrel stemmed from a dispute over who should be sentry.It was quite clear that no one wanted to be sentry, and all orcs regarded it as a thankless job.

Drow crouched in the bushes, showing a smug smile.It doesn't matter whether you are on guard or not, he thought, it doesn't matter whether you are on guard or not, they won't find themselves anyway. They cannot see the hunter. The stupid, black and thick sentry put his spear on a stone, twisted his fingers backwards, and stretched his arms.The rattling of its joints was louder than a broken branch. "Always ask Bailig to be on guard." While spitting, it looked back at the bonfire and the figures by the fire, where some guys were dozing off, and others were tearing and devouring rotten rations. "Bailige is covering, you are sleeping and eating. Always ask Bailig to watch the watch."

Along the way, it muttered endlessly, always reluctant to turn its head away from the campfire. Finally, its head turned - and there was a face as if carved in ebony, with long white hair and eyes!Purple eyes!Fiery eyes! Bailig subconsciously stretched out his hand to grab the spear, but the lights and swords of the left and right stopped it.Then it tried to block the enemy's knife-swinging arm with its arm, but it was too slow to keep up with the drow's weapon. It wanted to scream, but the scimitar had already cut two fatal wounds in the trachea. Bailig covered the fatal wound, just at that moment, the double sabers attacked repeatedly.

The dying orc tried to flee back to his companions, but the scimitar struck again, the sharp blade lacerating the tendon of its thigh with little effort. When Bailig fell, he felt a hand catch it and put it gently on the ground.It is still alive, but there is only breath out but no breath in; it is still alive, but the blood flowing out of its side has gathered into a pool. The murderer walked away. "Damn it, be quiet, stupid Bailig," Oonte called from under a leafy elm by the fire. "I'm talking to Figo." "He never stops talking," said Figo the Ugly. With his nose chipped off, half his lip torn, and his green fangs turned out, Figo was ugly even by orcish standards.It was the price it paid for getting too close to a warg once in its youth.

"Or I'll go and strangle him to death." Aoangte's words caused his companion to smile ferociously. A spear pierced through the air and nailed it into the tree trunk between the two. "Bailige!" Aoangte yelled; while Fei Ge was shocked by the side. "I'm going to abolish you in the past!" Aoangte yelled and pulled out the trembling spear. At this moment, Figo hurriedly nodded in agreement. "Put it down," came a soft orcish voice—too soft to sound like an orc. The two sentries did not move lightly, and then they turned in the direction of the spear.There stood a slender and elegant man, with black hands resting on his hips, and a dark hooded robe fluttering in the night wind. "There is no need to use force." The dark elf continued. "What?" the two orcs said in unison. "What do you see?" asked a third sentinel, Oonte's cousin Bruce, running from the campfire.It followed the fixed line of sight of the two and found the drow, so it didn't dare to move. "Who is that?" "Friend," said the dark elf. "Aoangte's friend?" Aoangte asked, pointing to his chest. "Friends of the people you killed in the town." After the dark elf finished speaking, before the orc understood what he meant, he drew out his two knives. His movements were so fast that the orcs couldn't see them clearly, so to them, the scimitar seemed to appear out of nowhere. Bruce asks Oonte and Figo: "What?" At this time, the shadow passed by it. Then it dies. The dark elf turned his head and ran towards the other two orcs; Ont drew out his spear, and Figo drew out a pair of short blades—one of which was shaped like a fork, and the other was a scimitar. Aoangte waved his spear with both hands and went on the defensive.The whirling of the spear's tip halted the drow's charge. But Drow slid close to the two orcs, and the force of Figo's blocking of the spear shook Aoangte's figure. Drow was no longer where he was, he had already leaped into the air.Two orc veterans manipulated their weapons skillfully, flanking the nimble Drizzt. The two knives swung out, one blocked the spear, and the other swung away Figo's double stabs with a sharp strike.While parrying, the dark elf kicked two astonished orcs back and forth. Figo backed away, dizzy, and swung his two knives left and right to achieve a defensive effect.Oonte probably wanted to run away, for he was bluffing his spear in front of him.They both calmed down at the same time, and found themselves staring at each other in vain. "What?" Aoangte asked, and Drow disappeared. Figo trembled violently—it was stabbed open in the chest by the scimitar; the knife disappeared immediately, and the dark elf wiped away the living orc, and another scimitar cut off its chest the moment it passed by. Throat. Seeing that there was no chance of winning, Aoangte threw away his spear and walked away, only howling and fleeing towards the main camp.The orcs spilled food—mostly rotting raw flesh—jumping together and drawing their weapons. "What happened?" asked one of the orcs. "Who killed it?" cried another. "Drows! Drows!" Oonte wailed, "The drows killed Figo and Bruce! The drows killed Bailig!" Drizzt let the orcs flee back to the brightly lit camp, using the barking beast to distract the orcs, giving him a chance to hide in the shadow of a large tree that bordered the camp.Using the tip of his knife to measure the number of orcs, he estimated that there were probably more than a dozen of them. The drow clambered up the treetops alternately, and Oonte kept talking about how Drizzt had killed three orcs. "Drow?" asked more than one in surprise, and one of them mentioned Tania, a name Drizzt had heard before. Drizzt moved lightly to the end of the fifteen-foot branch, almost directly above the orc.They were all frightened by Aoangte's narration, and their eyes were aimed at the gloomy trees around them.Drizzt, undetected by anyone, went deep inside, using the drow's unique racial talents to create a deep black orb at the campfire that marked the center of the camp.The drow leaped across several branches in succession, balancing delicately on his bare feet, and using his responsive magic to accelerate his ankle braces to take a nimble, light step. As soon as he landed, he ran towards the dark barrier, and the orc who spotted the ebony figure approached with a roar, and some guy even threw a spear. Before the crude projectile weapon could get close, Drizzt had left it behind him—he could have easily plucked it out of the air if he wanted to.He then encountered the first orc to stumble out of the dark barrier, and cast another natural ability on it, summoning a blue-violet flame to accentuate its silhouette.The fire does not burn, but makes the target easier to hit; though it is not necessary for the skilled drow. The orc, flustered by the onslaught of magical powers, stared at the flames on him and screamed.When it looked up in Drizzt's direction, it happened to see the scimitar flash past. Another orc came out from behind the orc just now, Drow's charge continued unabated, the sliding shovel avoided the orc's defensive stick sweep, turned his wrist and slashed at its thigh, severing its tendon.Before the howling beast fell to the ground, Drizzt the hunter had already charged into the dark barrier. He acts entirely on instinct, his muscles and movements automatically responding to the noise around him, guided by his vibrissae-like senses.Hunters in an unconscious combat state determined their orientation by judging the heat source of the fire with their bare feet.Every time, when he felt that a reckless orc was passing by, his ruthless dual knives would attack suddenly, even while running, he would not hesitate.Sometimes he couldn't even touch or hear the orcs, but his keen sense of smell told him they were nearby.Then the flash would pull out a scream in the hand to hand, and then the orc fell dead. The unconscious battle concept told Drizzt that it was time to cross the dark ward to the other side of the camp. Inside Drizzt knew it all, measuring every step he moved with precision. Standing out with perfect balance, he immediately set his sights on the four orcs who charged at him; the warrior's instincts settled the attack for him before he could even think about it. He met the orc, parrying the thrust of the spear with his double blades. Drizzt's blade could have chopped off the rotten spear with any blade, but his first blade temporarily stopped, and the second The blade was slapped, so the spear remained intact.But it was no longer useful, and a second scimitar cut open the orc's chest, causing the beast to lose his balance and throw the weapon from his hand. Drizzt shifted his feet, and the figure swept past the orc in a flash, slit its windpipe with a flash. Drizzt didn't slow down at all, and turned half a circle counterclockwise in small steps, just in time to deal with the second orc.The flash swung sideways, and hit the orc's sword-wielding hand, knocking the weapon into the air.With the power of turning around, Bingde came after him and pierced firmly into the orc's rib. The hunter passed by. He ducked to avoid the club, leaped out of the way of the spear, and dropped his weight on the shaft.The flash cuts sideways, but is avoided by the orc.Drizzt held the handle of the knife backwards, turned his arm back and stabbed fiercely in the back, punching a bloody hole in the chest of the unprepared orc with the stick. At the same time, Drow, who was bowing left and right, raised Bingdean and stabbed the spear-wielding orc's arm three times.Then he jumped sideways, and the dying orc behind him fell headfirst on the orc whose arm was bleeding. The hunter had already withdrawn and galloped towards the two orcs who were cooperating with the enemy.Drizzt slid on his knees, pressing down on the orc's spear and sword.When his knees hit the ground, Zall rolled over immediately, and then jumped up vigorously.The two orcs left by him were stunned and did not recover at all. Drizzt still landed lightly without losing his balance, and the flash's horizontal swing to the left made the orc even more flustered. His weapon opened wide to both sides first, cutting across from the gap in the middle of the orc to the outside, and then he held the knife in his backhand and stabbed with his arms closed.Before the orc could react and block the attack with a weapon, he was hit by the two knives on the side. The hunter moved away from the escape again. The orcs huddled together noisily, realizing that it was impossible to defend against the night slayer.Drizzt travels between the dark barrier and the outside world, and anyone who dares to stop him will be decapitated.He knew that there were orcs curled up and hiding in the barrier, and he had fallen into the world constructed by his own different senses, and he could not escape from any sound or heat source.He had just killed the orc in front of him with his weapon, and immediately he noticed the orc's escaping movement on the other side. He quickly moved sideways to the campfire, the rice cooker still on the tripod.He raised his leg and kicked it away, turned around and went back to the barrier to start a killing spree. In the sphere he made with magic power, the orc who was doused in hot soup fled in embarrassment, Drizzt couldn't help showing a smile when he heard it. The orc in front of him hacked and called for help, and the hunter could hear the wind of its swing.After mastering the rules of action of this reckless guy, Drizzt easily went around behind it and attacked. He backed away from the barrier, letting the mortally wounded orc flip and fall. Drizzt made a quick run around the barrier, and there were probably two orcs still gasping: one was lying on the ground convulsing; The precise stabbing of the scimitar ended the action of the two. The hunter went into the night and continued to track. The unlucky Aoangte fell down under the tree and breathed heavily.It has been running wildly at the begging of its companions until now, and the distance from the camp has been opened by more than one mile. "We have to report!" "Go yourself!" Oonte said, taking a breath. Under the call of the tribal witch doctor, Oont climbed out of the cave deep in the Spine of the World in order to complete King Obed's glorious grand plan and fight against the sinners who desecrated the statue of Gruumsh not far away. Oont came to fight the dwarves, not the drow. The companion grabbed it again, trying to pull it up, but Oonte brushed away its palm.It hung its head, then gasped. "Don't be in a hurry to leave." Someone behind spoke the orc language—this was a beautiful voice that orcs could not imitate. "We must go!" Aoangte's companion said, facing the comer. Aoangte, who clearly recognized the voice, didn't raise his head, because he knew that he was doomed. "Let's talk." It heard its companions begging for mercy from the dark elves, and it also heard the sound of weapons falling to the ground. "Yes," the dark elf replied, and the diamond scimitar slashed open the orc's throat. "But I'm afraid you won't have a voice to talk about." The orc's response was to grab hold of the throat, which rattled. Finally fell to the ground. Aoangte stood up, still not facing his nightmare opponent.With its back against the tree, its hands drooped defenselessly, hoping for a snap of the fatal blow. It felt the hot breath of Drow's breath on its neck, felt the tip of the junior's knife, and the other knife was resting on its neck. "You go to the leader of the Legion," Drow said. "Tell him I'll get him, soon. Tell him I'm going to kill him." The scimitar trembled and cut off Aoangte's right ear—the orc wailed and grinned in pain, but he was shrewd and didn't run away or turn around immediately. "Go and tell him." These words came from my ear. "Tell everyone." Aoangte just wanted to respond, and wanted to tell the terrifying enemy that he would definitely do it. The hunter was gone.