Spell-like ability [Force Field Deflection
The force energy without sound and light effect altered the trajectory of the crossbow, and the short, thin crossbow penetrated Drusilla's outstretched right arm, then disappeared into the night.
There was silence. Thousands of elves watched dumbfounded as the princess stumbled and fell, picked up by Flamir with his tentacles. The most surprised of them was the chief priest, who could have sworn to Nieron that he had definitely aimed at the big ugly meatball and pulled the trigger.
"This can't be! I'm not interested in ..." Slow speech proved to be tragic, and the chief priest's defense had barely spit out three words when Ramsilai's small chain hammer collapsed his nose, spewing out a mixture of snot, tears and blood.
Ramesile shouted with hostility on his face: "Arrest the traitor who assassinated the princess! All the temple guards are disarmed!" The order was given to the ranger, but hundreds of excited civilians pounced on the overwhelmed guards at the same time.
Ramesile ran to the princess's side, while Vlamir obediently handed him the wounded man. "Let me see the wound."
Drusillia's face was pale, her teeth were clenched, and blood was gushing from her small arm. Rameshirai's face was even more gloomy after examining the wound, the crossbow bullet passed through the gap between the radius and ulna, although it did not hurt the bone, but the tendons and nerves were severely damaged, probably this hand will never be able to draw a bow again. While stopping the bleeding, the ranger captain gritted his teeth and said, "I should have hung that shameless bastard's neck with the bowstring and twisted it so hard a dozen times that the eyes that grew and didn't grow exploded out of the skull."
Vlamir twisted two tentacles into one, resting on his "chin" and said: "Unfortunately, fortunately your people love you quite a lot, Your Highness. But ... are they too enthusiastic?"
Following the tentacles of the magic-eyed governor, the elves at the gates of the city were staging a riot. At the beginning the atmosphere was abnormal, people shouting "catch them" "grab the bow and arrow" rushed, and in a short time the slogan became "kill the traitors".
Hundreds of civilians hysterically attacked dozens of temple guards with their hands, feet and even teeth, and the anger and pain that had been building up in the Tyrian Forest for decades found its outlet, and the situation quickly spiraled out of control. The other elves who kept their heads or stayed away stood by coldly, most of them nobles and temple worshippers, with shocked and disdainful eyes, as if it was not their fellow countrymen but some other inferior creature that was huddling in a frenzy.
The polarized scene gave the princess a huge shock, far beyond the pain of her arm. Drusillia quickly reacted, "Rameshirai go and stop them, the civilians are out of control, wait for the temple guards to draw their weapons and start fighting back ..."
Ranger captain realized the seriousness of the situation, immediately rushed up to drink. Just yanked away two guys who tried to bite off his fingers, a pointed boot smashed the back of the head. Is this still a modest and elegant elf? This thought occurred to Ramessila, and then was swallowed by the surging tide of people.
What to do? What to do? Drusillia's soul trembled as she turned her eyes to Flamir for help.
The magic-eyed governor looked calm: "This situation is more common in the army and is called 'tsunami camp'. When the spirit suffers from a long period of high stress that cannot be released, it will lose its mind to roar and mania, and then the psychological suggestion spreads quickly like a plague. Elves are a sensual race and are more prone to breakdowns."
"So how do I calm it down? Please tell me, I'll pay any price!"
"There is no price to pay, Hora can fix the root of the problem."
The unicorn, who hadn't spoken in a long time, said in a Wooden language that Drusillia didn't understand, "I sense your class spell, Magic Eye. You hurt an innocent, started a riot, and now you want me to make up for your transgressions?"
"Not for me, but for you." Vlamir replied in the same Wooden language, "Her bloodshed could have fought for shelter for you. Don't forget responsibility, Hora, don't let a momentary sense of justice harm the Unicorn Alliance. And look at her ..."
Hora White Mane met Drusillia's pleading tears and sent a wordless compromise to the magic-eyed governor. He stepped forward and said to the princess, "Pure Good, for the sake of your pack and mine."
He lowered his head and his spiral-tipped horn gently touched the wound, and positive energy poured into it emitting a white fluorescent light. Vlamir stuck his tentacles into his mouth for a moment, then pulled out a fluorescent staff and gently tapped it on the princess, the intense light dispelling the darkness.
One elf saw the light, dumbfounded and held up his hard boots in place, then a second and a third ... eventually all the elves focused their attention on the center of the light. Superb eyesight allowed them to see muscles sprouting and growing, skin flaps leaning together and gluing. Drusillia stroked the skin in amazement, if it weren't for the blood all over her hands it would have been like a dream. She turned around and raised her arms high and shouted, "Look! I've been healed!" The princess walked into the crowd and let the elves confirm it one by one. Both commoners and nobles, when witnessing the unbelievable, all looked at the princess and the unicorn in awe. As the princess walked on, she saw her close friend.
Verity took a moment to find her memory, she only remembered raging forward with the crowd, chanting garbled slogans, and then a mind full of blanks. When she came to her senses her body was covered in bruises and she had broken her left leg into three pieces.
Drusilla noticed her friend's injuries and immediately turned around and said, "Holla White Mane, my friend is badly injured, can you show your miracle again."
"As long as it's a non-evil one." Hora used [Heal Moderate Wound] again. Verity, who stood up straight, triggered a gasp. The unicorn then healed another elf with broken ribs, exhausting his three healing spells for the day.
Ramesirai spat out the broken socks in his mouth; it was definitely the worst fight he had ever had. The most severely injured head priest had been forgotten to the back of his mind, his sacrificial garments turned to shreds of cloth as he lay twitching on the ground. Turning his head to see that no one was paying attention nearby, Ramesile stepped over the chief priest's head and issued an order to reorganize the ranger formation and apprehend the traitor.
"Your Highness, 40 of the temple guards and 1 of the priests are under control." Rameshirai, who was still observing etiquette in a crowded place, asked in a whisper, "What's the next step?"
Drusilla looked around, thousands of elves watched her respectfully. "Although the source of the riot is the chief priest, but after all, there are still many fellow countrymen injured. I can even guess how the High Priestess of Ophasis will spread rumors in the council. To do it to the end, you send a trusted ranger to report the situation here to my father, and be quick about it."
"Will His Majesty agree?" Ramesile heard that the princess intended to fight hard against the temple.
"Trust him, and please trust me." Druhiria put on a little confident smile.
...
Without any more elves in the way, Drusillia invited Vlamir and Hora to an audience with the Elven King to discuss the covenant. So, one midsummer night in the forest of Tia, a special parade began. The inhabitants of the green capital opened their doors and windows to see the elven princess and a silver-white unicorn walking side by side, with a huge scaly ball of flesh floating behind them, and four fluorescent tentacles dancing in the wind. Then behind them were rangers with pious eyes and hundreds of elven civilians, but they looked as if they had been violently beaten.
The strong visual impact attracted all the inhabitants, the elves left their homes, asking questions of their compatriots in the procession on one side and growing the parade on the other. The elves who knew what happened from the beginning to the end at the city gates felt a sense of honor, so the guys with excessive artistic talent added to the story.
With a proud smile, Drusilla introduced the old buildings of the green capital to Hora and Vlamir, making a big detour to the royal palace, which resulted in the gathering of a procession of three or four sali. The musicians who joined the crowd spontaneously played a light-hearted serenade, with the aranger and the flute rising and falling. The spice growers rushed ahead of the princess, spreading rose petals and lilac branches along the way. A young elf girl, probably only 20 years old, stumbled over to the princess and offered three garlands of yagi. Drusillia took off her crown and put on the garland. After winning Hora's consent, the wreath was placed on the spiral-tipped horns. As for Vlamil, it was a bit more difficult, swinging left and right to put the wreath on top of the spherical body, and the comical movement provoked a good-natured laugh.
Drusilla hadn't been this happy in a long time, and she comfortably enjoyed the laughter and music of her compatriots until she saw the High Priest of Orpheus.
The music stopped abruptly, the procession seemed to hit a wall, the smiles and dances disappeared, the musicians put away their instruments grimly, the women workers panicked and hid in the crowd, the flower petals scattered everywhere.
The high priest of Orpheus' face is still stereotypical, only a faint glance at the unicorn and the magic-eyed governor. But the priests standing in a line beside him almost shot hateful anger in their eyes.
Drusilla gave the elves a reassuring look, then stepped forward, confident and calm. She had never felt so powerful, and the power came not only from Hora, but also from the tens of thousands of elves behind her.
"Night Anon, High Priest and all the priests. Want to join our joyful procession?" The elven princess envisioned, not without malice, how nice it would be if the High Priest of Orpheus spoke up and reprimanded her for frolicking with the elves without distinction, so that thousands of her countrymen could see the harsh face of the pantheon and return the abhorrence.
But the high priest said only two words: "Night Ann, Your Highness. You have disobeyed the ruling of the council of elders and brought shame to the sacred Torah, do you intend to split the Tia elves?"
All the elves fell like ice.