Chapter 1518： Iron plate squid is not bad

"Do you know the dominators of the old days?" Irina looked at McGonagall as strangely as she thought about it, and she said something awkwardly: "No wonder you know **** Berg and the bewildered Alfred."

"I just happened to read a little related records on a broken sheepskin ancient book. I thought it was just a wild history written indiscriminately. I didn't expect them to exist." McGonagall touched his nose, he did not think of grams. The Sulu mythology really exists in this world.

During this time he has read through almost all the books related to Cthulhu mythology, and has drawn countless imaginations from the authors of the Earth.

How many of them are truly understanding the old dominators, and how many are influenced by the mythological system established by Lovecraft, and there is no way to analyze them.

However, after the baptism of these books, he has a basic understanding of the Cthulhu mythology system.

The old dominator who possessed the power of terror, once ruled the world in ancient times, but was slumbered by the seal of the ancient gods.

In this system, there are countless colorful works, among which there are many old dominators.

McGonagall still has many doubts about the old dominators that may exist on the Nolan continent. The previous two contacts were also very simple. Whether it is the black fog stone statue or the stone temple throne, they cannot share them with each other during this time. The old-fashioned dominator responds.

The parchment that Irina received from Krassu, after a systematic online translation, was roughly a prayer of a wizard, praising the power and legend of a evil **** named Meredith. I mentioned a few evil spirits and showed an extremely fanatical worship.

The last paragraph caught his attention: "The old dominators will eventually return and regain control of the world."

And do the various visions that suddenly appear in the world mean that the return has begun?

"What is the old dominator? Can you eat? What does it look like?" Irina asked curiously as she looked at McGonagall.

Meg seriously thought for a while, saying: "The legendary old dominator is probably an inexplicable object with various tentacles."

"Tissile? It sounds a bit disgusting, can you do it?" Irina frowned.

"The iron plate squid seems to be quite good." McGonagall thought.

"Well, next time we try to catch an old dominator, I don't know if it will be too old for millions of years, it will not be too old to chew." Irina has begun to eagerly try.

"This world has been theirs after all, how can we give them a little face." McGonagall was a little bit dumbfounded, as if they had played the same, even if it was the old dominator who was sealed, he had no confidence to Their tentacles were cut down to make iron squid whiskers.

"About Blour, I haven't got his news yet. What is certain is that he didn't fall into Helena's hand." McGonagall said.

About Blour is the thing of Shirley, Irina already knows, shook her head and said: "I haven't got his news yet. At present, I don't have much news, but if he is caught by Helena, I Will save him."

"It may be influenced by the news of his father's death, I hope he can calm down." McGonagall sighed, and he watched Blair's father rushing to those who besieged Irina, They have delayed some time.

"One day, one day, I will let them pay for it." Irina looked cold.

McGonagall, he naturally knows the character of Irina.

"I will continue to find someone to help find it, find him as soon as possible." McGonagall said.

"You said that you have to leave for the Fakk tribe the day after tomorrow. Is there a plan?" Irina asked.

McGonagall shook his head and said: "There is no detailed plan yet, to save Connie's brother as the first purpose, and secondly to find opportunities to destroy the coronation ceremony of the monarchs, and try to block the Fuck tribe and the Og tribe alliance. The possibility that once the two tribes are successful, the orc races are basically on the side of the war union."

"No plan is the best plan. Isn't it just that you can't get things done? I'm very good at this." Irina heard her eyes lit up and smiled.

Meg looked at Irina, who was shining with excitement in her eyes, silently sighing for the Fakkers, and was stared at by the aunt, but there was nothing to end.

"Millet and Anna have slept, this night is quiet, do we want to do something interesting?" Irina leaned against the door, slender straight legs from the loose robe, and the soft silver long hair was scattered. Behind him, his eyes stared at McGonagall.

McGonagall calmly thought for a while and took out the tablet. "It's better for us to see cats and mice."

"Look at it yourself." Irina turned around annoyed and walked toward the bedroom, closing the door.

"call"

"so close."

Magog sighed and wiped the cold sweat on his forehead. At that moment, he felt like he was being stared at by the gods.

Fortunately, he is wit.

"Cats and mice are more interesting." McGonagall opened the tablet and watched the two episodes with gusto.

......

The night is deep, most people in the chaotic city have gone to sleep, and the suspicious people wandering on the streets have been gradually reduced after the strict screening of the Gentlemen's League. Even the tramp has just happened to hide back under the bridge hole and dare not come out in the middle of the night. Scared the little girl who walked the night.

Even in the northern slums of the city, there have been no vicious incidents for a while. All the gangsters that can be named have been found by the gentlemen who have been incarnation of Holmes to find evidence of the crime and send them to the Bastig prison.

Because of the shortage of cells, the density of cells in the Bastig prison has increased dramatically, and it is said that it has also caused some dissatisfaction among the aborigines.

The density of street patrols in the Grey Temple and the City House has also increased a lot, and it has really made it a good place for residents to sleep peacefully.

......

The darkness of the Grey Temple, this place where no light can shine, is no different from day and night.

A scream of screams passed from the cell in the partition to the gloomy empty corridor, and an echo was formed in the distance, and it will be dispersed for a long time.

At the end of the promenade, there was a dim oil lamp. Bolton stood under the lamp and stuffed a little bit of fine tobacco into the bamboo pipe. He took a bite with the flint and looked at it with a piece of paper. The man who hurried out of the cell next door said: "How?"

"The minister, the punishment has already passed, and Brez is still insisting that everything is done by him, and confessed to everyone under his system, not on the line." The man handed the paper in his hand to Burton. .

Burton took the paper and glanced at the contents. He smiled coldly: "Is it really not, or is he still looking forward to it?"