Chess Mage of Faerûn

Chapter 400 Not very smart

Never mind, it hasn't come to that yet.

Feeling the fierce gaze and barely suppressed rage in his older sister's tone, Taebien, who had just cast a protective spell on himself, ultimately didn't dare to slip away.

Even as a spellcaster of some value, he dared not easily bear the guilt of abandoning the Spider Queen and running away, resulting in her death.

Moreover, seeing that their side still had a chance of winning, the opposing mage might have some skills, but the opponent, who looked very young, was really naive, just standing still and stubbornly withstanding the fourth-circle divine spell.

Tsk tsk, is this the style of those Garuks on the surface? Or do they think that battles between mages are just a game of offense and defense?

With a sinister smile playing on his lips, Taybien gradually disappeared from sight, holding out a crossbow bolt in his hand. The bolt was entirely black, with a dim, dark gold sheen on its tip, mixed with a somewhat bewitching emerald green hue. One glance was enough to tell that he was no benevolent creature.

Even the Drow mage himself was extremely careful when he was handling it, not daring to use the slightest bit of force. The smell that initially seemed somewhat sweet, but after a few more sniffs it became cloyingly sweet and nauseating, was not some kind of spice. It was the essence extracted from the venom of the Abyssal Spider, which was more than enough to poison several minotaurs after the arrow exploded and spread.

Destroying these so-called geniuses, nurtured in a greenhouse and untouched by the evils of the world, is one of their most cherished activities.

Having experienced the power of his opponent's outburst, Taybien would not confront him directly; a sneak attack is far more effective than a direct assault.

Whether Mr. Zhang, who took all these actions into account, was truly a sheltered child from an ivory tower is another matter entirely.

"It's no good to clear the fog right now," thought Master Zhang, and he used his invisibility spell to hide himself, waiting for the other side to come to him.

The first to take action were not the spellcasters of the two sides who were plotting their own schemes. Just as the dust was about to settle and the twilight was thinning, several hazy figures quickly bypassed the dwarves who were regrouping and organizing their formations, and quietly entered the scene like floating shadows of the night.

The drow, skilled in cunning and adept at assassination, would never deploy all their forces in the open, especially when their own troops are on the ground on a hunting mission. No amount of caution would be excessive.

Even during the fierce assault on the Dwarven Shield Guardians' impenetrable fortress, a small squad of rogues was maintained patrolling the perimeter of the farm for surveillance and early warning purposes.

After all, while these drow, who fanatically worshipped Lolth's dog-eat-dog social rules, held the weak Garruk and their hypocritical gods on the surface in contempt, they decided to let them off the hook for the time being until Her Majesty the Spider Queen led them to severely punish those Rivendare traitors and cowardly surface races.

As a result, the ironclad formation was indeed shattered by a divine spell, but her own team was also basically wiped out. Eirima, who had broken her teeth after taking a bite, could no longer suppress her anger. Without caring about any guard posts, she directly summoned the wanderers to behead that despicable mortal mage.

Seeing that her divine magic was beginning to take effect, the priestess flipped her fingers and produced a bright silver whistle, shaped like a miniature flute, with exquisite and intricate patterns etched on its surface, like vines entwining and surrounding a dark red gem inlaid on it, which must have been a magical creation.

Eirima opened her mouth, put the short whistle in her mouth, and blew hard, but it was silent and made no sound. Then she put it to her lips again, whispered a few words, and looked ahead, her beautiful eyes narrowing into sharp, venomous triangles.

At that time, the Drow spies, also known as the wanderers, were happy to leisurely fish in the surrounding area. After all, they were just a group of dwarves, and with the killing efficiency of the dark elves, it wouldn't be long before the problem was solved. Night would engulf everything, and by the time dawn came, they would have already returned to the Underdark with their spoils and offerings.

The drow rogue Assund thought so too, until he felt a burning sensation in his left earlobe—an urgent message from the leader…

Before he could think further, Eirimar's familiar, vicious voice, tinged with gritted teeth, rang out. "Kill that human mage! Use all your power!"

With the pastor's final command, the call ended, and Asund's left ear returned to its cool state, as if it had all been an illusion.

But the Spider Queen's will is not to be defied; the pain that little bitch felt when the snake-headed whip in her hand bit into her flesh was real and undeniable.

Thinking this, he touched his left earlobe with lingering fear. A dark silver earring hung on it like a small spider, its extended pincers biting the flesh of his earlobe, swaying with Assund's movements.

He wrapped himself even more tightly in his scout cloak. The drow, who grew up in the underground world, had cursed the damned climate ever since they came to the surface. Especially for a wanderer like him, who was wearing thin armor, the sharp cold of early spring made them, who were used to the constant temperature underground, curse incessantly.

Donning cloaks and blending into the twilight, though night has not yet fully fallen, the dim dusk is enough to be a good companion for the Drow scouts.

That's so easy.

Asond thought so, and he figured his other companions must share the same opinion; with their agility, it would be too easy for them to get around the dwarven shield bearers.

Even though these sturdy tin cans of guards looked as solid as a rock, it was the same.

Huh? This thing?
He and several Drow scouts, who had burst into the dusty tent, were somewhat surprised to see the two towering iron golems, but then they sneered inwardly.

This guy is really cowardly. He puts a small tin can inside a big tin can. Didn't he ever think about the proper configuration of a mage's follower squad?

I originally thought those two tall figures in the dust would be ogres or other large summoned creatures, but I didn't expect them to be this thing.

The seemingly fierce and unyielding Iron Golem is not a perfect guardian. Apart from a few special golems, most constructs are clumsy in agility, and their perception is a major weakness unless the creator is willing to spend a lot of money to permanently enchant them with a detection spell.

This is a brainless warrior with an extreme imbalance of strength and physical defense. He might be effective in attacking and defending, but which wanderer would be foolish enough to confront him head-on?
No matter how thick the armor, I won't attack you; no matter how fierce the punch, it's useless if it doesn't hit the target.

He glanced at it briefly and then left without looking back. Assund carefully and nimbly moved to the side. His steps were small and regular, each step almost the same in size, restrained within a very small range, but very fast in frequency.

After bypassing the iron tower's cover, two figures came into view, standing there motionless. Did they really think that two constructs could withstand everything?
The target has been found, and he doesn't seem very bright, Assund thought, gripping the dagger in his hand tighter and silently pulling out a short stick.

Moving as swiftly as a breeze and striking like a venomous snake, Assund, emerging from the shadows, lunged forward with his Disintegrating Staff in hand.

The target was the old man riding the white horse!
Thank you for the monthly pass, Yuezhimin!

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(End of this chapter)