The Lost Ones 20.

Summer. The Southlands. The Maldin Hills.

There's a scream from up the trail, and Tamric Drubine the field commander and sir Percavelle Lé Dic look back up behind them.
And they see a terrified looking Saanea running down the trail towards them. There's a look of horror on the face of the pretty looking witch.
"What is it you evil temptress?" asks sir Percavelle Lé Dic who isn't sure bringing the witch along with them was a good idea or not. And it might of been best if they had burnt her at the stake.
In fact he thinks it's an absolutely terrible idea she's with them. After all she's a spellcaster, and the former paladin has never thought much of those who dabble in what he considers is the dark arts.
"The beast" gasps Saanea the witch, who is so terrified that she doesn't even take umbrage at the former earl of Lé Dic calling her unpleasant names. Which he always does.
"Figures" mutters the nobleborn knight who is originally from the kingdom of Druvic.
"What has the filthy brute done now?" asks the heavily armoured knight who is a member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
"He's" says the hillwoman, who gets her breath back, and with a look of disgust upon her face, adds in an indignant tone "Is taking a crap in the middle of the trail!".
The nobleborn knight rolls his eyes, while Tamric Drubine the field commander says "You get used to it" .
The nobleborn teenager briefly pauses before adding "Kind of" and when sir Percavelle Lé Dic looks sideways at him, the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin says "Well, not really".
"It's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen" says the pretty looking spellcaster, who like many hillwomen, is short, with tanned skin colour, but with fair hair.
"Lady, you just wait, because he can get way more disgusting than that" murmurs field commander Drubine in the elven language.
Then Tamric Drubine, or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, looks down the trail they're all going down. And sees Shur Kee the monk walking back up towards them.
"What is happening?" calls out Shur Kee the monk as he approaches.
"Nothing much" replies the son and former heir to a previous knight of castle Drubine, a castle and its accompanying lands, that are located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
He glances at the hillwoman, then says "Saanea just saw something is all".
"Oh, what was that?" asks the short, statured monk who is from beyond the Southlands, the far east coast of the continent to be exact.
"The green demon defecating out in the open, wot" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by the others in the group.
"Oh" says the acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li, who continues with "Yes, that can be very disconcerting at times".
"That's for damn sure" mutters the witch, who first thing this morning when they set off again. Thought that she'd never see the large ork stop right infront of her, pull down his grubby knee length pants, and start taking a shit in the middle of the trail. And that's exactly what he just did.
Tamric Drubine looks down to the road, and spots Lisell Maera the messenger who is down on the road below.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury has an inquiring look on her face.
And the young field commander who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque gives her few hand signals.
Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by those who know her well. Rolls her eyes when she see deciphers the hand signals.
The attractive young woman who is a messenger in the armies of Farque, shakes her head. Then continues along the road, glad that it wasn't her that Dorc da Orc stopped infront of and took a shit.
The group have traveled over to the west side of the Maldin Hills, and are heading north after leaving the farmhold that Saanea the witch was living on, at the start of the week.
They're heading back to the village the group were staying in previously, to pick up some of their stuff they left behind. As well as the horses they left in the hillside village.
They've traveled without incident as they headed north, usually stopping in villages or towns in the afternoon, when it's hottest on this side of the hill range.
Then leaving again, early in the morning, well before dawn. As they make as much time as possible, before it gets too hot for Dorc da Orc to walk.
As for the latest member of the group. The hillwoman Saanea, for the most part has fit in well with the others.
Though she gets annoyed with sir Percavelle Lé Dic quite often due to what he calls her, all manner of derogatory things. And because he has openly admitted a couple of times that it might of best if they had burnt her at the stake than to bring her along.
The only other complication with Saanea being in the group. Is that she can't stand being around Dorc da Orc.
Oh, she gets on with him well enough. She can't understand half of what he says, so there's that to take in consideration.
But she actually can't stand being too close to him. As he absolutely reeks, and makes her want to be physically sick if she stands anywhere near him.
In her opinion, he needs a bath. In a mountain lake. For at least a week.
There's only one other minor complication with the witch being in the group. And it's coming up the trail. It's a cat. A house cat, you'd never find away from any settlement here in the Maldin Hills.
Which happens to be the shape her familiar is in today. And the most common shape it's been in since the group showed up to the farmhold she'd been living in, towards the southern end of the Maldin Hills.
Saanea rolls her eyes as her familiar stops, and rubs itself against the legs of Shur Kee the monk. Then as it loudly purrs in contentment.
The short, statured monk holds out his arms, and the cat jumps up into them. Then it climbs up onto the left shoulder of the physical adept.
And as it sits there with a paw resting on the odd conical shaped hat that Shur Kee wears, it looks at the witch who it belongs to.
Saanea sourly smiles as she looks at her familiar, who is enamoured with the member of the philosophical order of Bru Li.
The familiar in it's cat form, usually allows people to pat it. Though not for long, or too often.
But since Saanea has joined the group, her familiar is all over the short, statured monk who is from beyond the Southlands. The kingdom of Wah Lee to be exact. Which is on the far east coast of the continent.
It often just sits on his shoulders as he walks along the trails and roads through the Maldin Hills as they travel north.
If Saanea was the type of spellcaster to willingly read the minds of others. She would read the mind of the physical adept, to see why her familiar is so enamoured with him.
But she's not that kind of practitioner of magic. And because Tamric Drubine politely asked her not to do such things to others in the group. And straight out warned her not to read the mind of Dorc da Orc. And she'll regret it for the rest of her life if she did.
She recalls old tales of how orks are immune to certain types of magic. And that casters who do those spells on them, are never the same again.
The hillwoman definitely doesn't want to try and find out what they are, and the effect one endures casting them on an ork.
"There is friend Dorc now" says Shur Kee the monk pointing back up the hillside.
The spellcaster who is originally from the very northern end of the hill range. Looks back up the trail, and sees the large ork heading down this way.
The hillwoman quickly sets off again, heading down the trail to the road that Lisell Maera is already on, as they continue northwards up the west side of the Maldin Hills.
The others move off too. With Percy running by Saanea, as the nobleborn knight doesn't like walking near the large ork too. For the simple reason they don't like one another. And are bitter rivals.
The hillwoman looks back, and sees Shur Kee the monk further back, closer to the ork warleader.
She rolls her eyes, as she sees her familiar lying down on the left shoulder of the short, statured monk.
Half under his odd conical shaped hat, nuzzling the neck and face of the physical adept.
Who doesn't miss a stride as they make their way down the steep trail to the road below.
Saanea finds herself walking beside field commander Drubine, who she has no idea, is absolutely smitten with her.
Be cool here Tam, the young field commander thinks to himself, the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin then silently adds, don't make a fool of yourself infront of her.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group. Fell for the pretty looking witch that first morning he and the rest of the group met her. And convinced her to travel with them.
The senior officer in the armies of Farque wondered if he was attracted to her so quickly because she was the first good looking woman he spoke to more than just briefly for a long time.
And the only one who wasn't Lis. Who Tam admits is stunningly beautiful. But he's just not attracted to. Never has been, and never will be. After all they grew up together. And though they're extremely close. There's something about their closeness, that will never see them be the best of friends.
The young field commander has often wondered why that is. But he's never been bothered to find out why.
As for the witch walking beside him, who he's known for only a handful of days.
He's not just physically attracted to her, he also likes being in her company.
And though she's about four years older than him. And a couple years older than Lisell Maera.
She has already been married, and was so for nearly five years. Until she left her husband last year.
As they make their way onto the road that's about halfway up the side of the hill.
The son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, a castle located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Resumes the conversation they were having just before they got underway first thing this morning, before dawn.
"So is there much difference living in the south of the range than up in the north as you were previously?" asks the senior officer in the armies of Farque.
"There's way less people down in the south, even for the east side of the range" says Saanea, who has a slightly upturned tip of her nose, that Tam can't help but stare at when she doesn't notice him staring at her.
"And i thought the northern end of the hills was sparse with people" adds the pretty looking witch, who then asks "What about where you're from?".
"In Sarcrin?" says the young field commander who is still a teenager. The spellcaster who stands about five foot seven inches tall, nods her head as she walks next to the young man who is just over six foot in height.
"Well, in my family's former lands there's some people, especially in and around the castle" says Tam who doesn't think of the land of his birth that much nowadays.
"But like here in the hills, it's sparsely populated" adds the young field commander in the armies of Farque, who continues with "The northern part of Sarcrin is covered in forest" he wryly smiles as he adds "All you can see in places is trees for miles and miles".
The witch who knows of such things, but has never seen them. As she's lived in the Maldin Hills all her life. And has only gone down into the lowlands a few times.
And though she's seen stands of trees, and woodlots. She's never seen forests like Tamric Drubine has described.
"What was it like growing up there?" asks the spellcaster, who isn't powerful in magic, nor is she weak in it any way.
The pretty looking witch who has never met a noble, until meeting Tam and Percy, then adds "And how did you end up a commander in an army?".
The nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin faintly smiles, then through the rest of the morning, and into the early afternoon when they finally stop at a town. He tells the hillwoman of his life growing up in the heavily forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
And how he eventually left there in the company of Dorc da Orc and two others, when he was still a boy, not yet eight years old.
As they sit in the shade of a covered porch in the town's inn. One of a handful of inns spread across the west side of the Maldin Hills. They aren't exactly common, and there's none over on the east side of the range.
As you're more likely to find taverns in the larger villages and towns in the hill country.
Saanea the witch is glad her familiar sits in her lap, at the table she's sitting at with Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera.
While Shur Kee the monk and sir Percavelle Lé Dic sit at the next table.
And Dorc da Orc sits at the end of the porch, closest to the table the hillwoman is sitting at with the field commander and the messenger in the armies of Farque.
The witch is glad there's a breeze blowing, and the large ork is downwind at the moment. So she can't actually smell him. Well, not much of him. As there's always a slight pungent aroma around him whenever you're within twenty to twenty five feet of him.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world is ignoring the others. As he's busy gnawing an entire roast lamb. While there's barrels of wine stacked up around him. And even a couple of barrels of ale. Which is bit of a rarity, as it's difficult to find ale or beer in the hill country.
They're just discussing if they should travel again early in the evening, as there's a village just a few miles to the north of here.
As they group have come this way before, earlier in the summer when they were searching for Saanea.
When Dorc da Orc says "Hey witchy" the hillwoman looks over at the large ork as he adds "Spell these two fucken barrels" followed by "Not the wines, just these two fuckers".
"Um, what did he say?" murmurs the spellcaster as she looks at Tam and Lis.
"He wants you cast something like a cold spell on those two barrels of ale he's got" says field commander Drubine to the witch, who finds it difficult to understand the ork warleader, because of his thick accent, and his deep, growling and rumbling voice.
And the fact the words she can understand, are all the swear words he says. And he says a lot of them.
"Oh" says Saanea as she pats her cat, and the next moment there's a thin layer of ice covering the two barrels of ale.
"Fucken sweet!" says Dorkindle in a tone of delight, followed by "You pretty good to have around witchy" the ork weaponsmith continues with "Dorc will make sure to only eat you and fuck you when you dead".
"Er?" murmurs the spellcaster, who is pretty sure she understood what the large ork just said.
"Did he just say" says Saanea "Take it as a compliment" says Lisell Maera as she interrupts the hillwoman "Because that's pretty much what it is from him" adds the attractive young woman who hails from the coast of the Southlands, field commander Drubine nods in agreement.
The messenger in the army of Farque then dryly adds "You definitely don't want him to do that while you're still alive".
"Eeewwww" says the general in the armies of Farque in a tone of disgust when he overhears that from Lis.
"Dorc not some sick cunt" adds ork weaponsmith who continues with "Me would never fuck a human lady when they alive, yuck!".
"You would eat one though" dryly says Lisell Maera.
"Oh yeah, me would fucken do that for sures" nonchalantly says the large ork who continues on with "Especially a nice big, fucken fat one, they tastes so yummy".
Dorkindle chuckles, then cracks open one of the iced over barrels of ale and starts drinking from it.
Meanwhile Saanea the witch blinks in surprise, as she's pretty sure she got the gist of what the ork warleader just said.
"He's kidding right?" asks the hillwoman, who continues with "He wouldn't actually eat someone while they're alive would he?".
Tamric Drubine winces in embarrassment, then he clears his throat then admits "He's been known to do that from time to time".
The spellcaster looks at Lisell Maera, who nods her head in agreement with the young field commander.
And Saanea the witch, not for the first time since she decided to come along with the group., wonders if she made the right decision or not in doing so . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 19.

Summer. The Island Chain. Dreese.

"Where exactly?" asks lord Farque "Here, here, and here predominantly" says Helbe the elven thief as he points at the map of an island called Solma.
The undead warlord slightly nods his full helmed head as the elven magic user adds "Well, from what we could see from onboard the Quick Gull".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel then continues with "I saw enough to create an image of it".
"Show us" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who points at the large table in the captain's quarters onboard the twin masted sailing ship.
The elven masterthief who also happens to the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, creates an illusion of the island of Solma, a fairly good one too, considering he saw it from quite a distance.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque quickly studies the illusion, and the enemy troop placements on the island.
"There's a few of them alright" quietly says Jarjin Littlefoot who has hopped up onto a chair to get a better look at the illusion spell the highly talented elven magic user has cast on top of the table.
Both Tovis the war engineer and Beldane the cleric nod in agreement, while Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy looks carefully at the illusion. Paying particular attention to the island itself, more than where the Viceroy's troops are placed.
Quickly coming up with a plan, lord Farque looks to the otherside of the large cabin, and says "Come over here and study this".
Some of the officers, in the Sultan's army, and fleet, both air and sea. Who have been waiting patiently, make their way across the large cabin where the lord of the death realm tells them "I want you all to come up with a plan, or plans at how best to deal with the enemy on Solma".
The heavily armoured deathlord points to the nearby sand glass in it's stand, and says "You have half a turn to do so" he continues with "When i return i want to hear what you've come up with".
"Yes sir" say the dozen or so officers, who call the deathlord of Farque, sir. Even though he has no rank in their army, as he's just a mercenary.
But he essentially leads their forces, more so now that general Martos has been made one of the Sultan's concubines.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his nation.
Makes his way from the cabin, and heads up to the deck, followed by the rest of the group.
"Drop the spell in half a turn of a glass" says the undead being in the elven language to Helbe the elven thief as they stand on the empty aft deck, as the ship like most of the fleet is still in port.
The elven master assassin nods that he will, then Helbe the elven thief asks the undead warlord "What are you planning?".
"Another victory in battle of course" is the reply of the heavily armoured deathlord, who pauses for a moment or two, before he adds "Kind of".
The young elven noble who is the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel, arches an eyebrow as he looks at the large figure in the dark blue, black suit of heavy plate armour.
"Care to elaborate?" asks the elven master archer who is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
It's the same thing that Jarjin Littlefoot, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy, Tovis the war engineer and Beldane the cleric are all thinking.
"Not yet" says the undead being, who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means, The Destroyer.
"Ward yourself" quietly says the undead warlord in the royal elven language.
"Just me?" asks prince Helbenthril Raendril in the same language.
Lord Farque slightly nods his full helmed head, and says "Just a protection spell will do".
The highly talented elven magic user does so, then Draugadrottin tells him "One of them is trying to read your mind".
"The fuck?" mutters the councillor Raendril, who doesn't look back over his right shoulder. To south of town, to where the Sultan's flag ship in his air fleet, is on the white sands of the beach, south of town.
"How are they doing that?" asks the young elven noble, who like the rest of the group, is from the Southlands, which is on the otherside of the continent, he then adds "And why can't i sense it?".
Des'tier tells him how, and the elven spellcaster grunts, then mutters "Smart".
Then the elven princeling nods his hooded head, when the undead warlord tells him some of what he has planned for the enemy on the island of Solma.
Then switching to the common language, the lord of the death realm says "Tovis, you might need to adapt some of the heavier weaponry" he continues with "Looks like there's some thick fucking jungle on one side of Solma" he continues with "If we can't get the heavy stuff through there, I'll have to pick a different landing spot for the army".
"Yes my lord, I'll see to it" says Tovis the war engineer.
Then the heavily armoured deathlord tells Beldane the cleric what he wants the fighting cleric to do. And after that he gives a few quick hand signals to Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy. Who nods his grey hooded head in understanding.
"Littlefoot with me for now" says Draugadrottin, then the undead being adds "We'll be leaving tomorrow morning on the tide" followed by "Hopefully those reinforcements are leaving the mainland by then".
The others all nod in agreement, then the spy Tanith, the young engineer and the fighting cleric move off. While the young elven noble disappears. And the halfling, who is a former air sailor, follows the heavily armoured deathlord, who makes his way below deck. To see how the senior officers in the army and fleet are getting on.
After listening to the officers explain their various plans to deal with the Viceroy's forces on the island of Solma. And expanding on the plans with the officers. Even though he won't use any of them.
The undead warlord dismisses the senior officers after he tells them to continue with the preparations for their departure tomorrow morning.
"You've basically got them doing what you want them to do" quietly says Jarjin Littlefoot as he lord Farque check on how the preparations for them leaving in the morning are going.
"More so than ever" adds the former air sailor who served in the Viceroy's forces.
"I know" says the lord of the death realm, who like the hobbit, is speaking in the hordes dialect of the southern tundra.
The two of them have just checked on some of the ships that are moored off the beach to the north of the port town.
And the heavily armoured deathlord is rowing them back to shore in a dinghy.
Draugadrottin who is rowing fairly slowly as he could get back to shore in no time, slightly nods his full helmed head, and says "A bit".
In reply to Jarjin Littlefoot asking him "Thought of a way to free Mira?".
The halfling, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of the former air sailor.
Wryly smiles when the undead being tells him in a dry tone "The trick is if i can free him alive" followed by "Freeing him is pretty fucking easy if that didn't come into consideration".
"Fuck what he's going through" quietly says Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman.
"Could be worse" says lord Farque as another dinghy goes out to the nearest ship, ferrying supplies out to it.
"He could be one of those concubines to that fat cunt" adds the large figure in the dark blue, black armour who is manning the oars of the little rowboat.
The halfling winces, then says "That's for sure" followed by "Like the general".
"Yes" says Des'tier, who after a briefly pausing adds "Such a pity about that".
The former air sailor looks sharply at the lord of the death realm. And Jarjin aka Zubutai the son of Timagin, who has had his suspicions about what happened to general Martos, and how he ended up in his situation.
All but has those suspicions confirmed when he hears that from the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"How do you think things will go on Solma?" asks Jarjin Littlefoot when they get to the beach, and hop out of the dinghy. Though the hobbit has to climb over the side to set foot on the ground.
"Tough" says the deathlord of Farque, who then adds "Even without what else I've got in plan" as he nods to some nearby sailors who are waiting to pack supplies onto the dinghy, lord Farque and Jarjin were using.
The sailors almost bowed to the heavily armoured deathlord when he got to shore.
"Oh extra activities is it?" asks the hobbit from the mainland of Dreese, who is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The former air sailor who knows the lord of the death realm doesn't share his plans until he has to, isn't surprised when the Draugadrottin tells him "Something like that".
And as they walk along the beach, watching dinghy after dinghy ferrying fresh supplies out to the smaller ships, as they prepare to leave on the tide early in the morning.
Councillor Littlefoot is surprised when the deathlord of Farque tells him "Our fortunes in battle are about to change" he continues with "We might be defeated".
"Solma is going to be that tough you think?" asks Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson.
"Maybe" says Des'tier, which translated from elven means, The Destroyer.
"But depending on how things are there, I'm going to make sure we're defeated" quietly adds the large, heavily armoured figure, who absolutely towers over the halfling next to him. As they stand on the beach while they watch another dinghy being loaded with supplies. And three others are heading out to the smaller ships in the fleet that are moored off from the beach.
While others are heading back to shore, to get more of the supplies and equipment, as the preparation for their departure in the morning continues.
The eyebrows of the former sailor shoot up in surprise, and he glances sideways and up at the large figure in the dark blue, black suit of heavy plate armour standing beside him.
"Any reason why?" asks Jarjin Littlefoot.
"Yes" says lord Farque, who after a slight pause, adds "Plenty of them".
The halfling sourly smiles as the undead being doesn't elaborate, but instead adds "Make sure you keep that spell gem on you at all times".
"I will" says the member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque. As he thinks of the spell gem in a hidden pocket of his vest. That protects him from the Sultan of Dreese.
Which the rest of the group has as well. With the exception of lord Farque himself, and Narladene the ground pixie. Who don't need one.
"Because once we get to Solma, and i see for myself how things are there" says the undead warlord, who gestures back to the port town, and the two of them start walking along the beach to it.
"Things will get fairly dangerous no doubt" adds the lord of the death realm who continues with "And that fat fucker and all those bastards he has under his control will have to get involved in the fighting".
For previously in the battles further south in the chain of islands, and over on the mainland. The Sultan of Dreese has let only a small group of his enscrolled spellcasters take part in battle at one time.
Half a dozen usually, though eight of them fought together during the battle on the otherside of this island at the start of the week.
"You trying to, shall i say, force the issue?" asks Jarjin Littlefoot, who at under four and half foot in height, in fact he's barely over four foot tall. Stands well over two and half feet shorter than the tall, heavily armoured deathlord he's walking beside.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque who is walking slowly so that the hobbit can keep pace with him, nods his full helmed head, then says "Something like that".
Then the undead warlord who died four and half centuries ago, dryly says "That fat fuck is bound to renege on his deal" Draugadrottin continues with "So contingency plans are in order".
The halfling who served in the air fleet of the Viceroy, nods his head as he thought it was something like that.
As he too doubts the Sultan of Dreese will honour his deal of hire with them.
For if they eventually defeat all of the Viceroy's forces. And capture the younger brother of the Sultan, and bring the Viceroy before him.
Mira Reinholt will be freed from his enscrollment, and the group of mercenaries will be given an airship.
The behaviour and general attitude of the Sultan towards them, is grounds for them to doubt him going through with the deal.
A deal that also has the spellcasters Helbe the elven thief, and Beldane the cleric. Along with lord Farque, and Narladene the ground pixie. Who the Sultan knows that there's a lose pixie around.
Have to keep their distance from him. At least a hundred yards away at all times. If not, Mira Reinholt's life is forfeit.
The Sultan of Dreese doesn't like spellcasters who aren't under his control, anywhere in his vicinity.
Nor does he like anyone like lord Farque anywhere near him.
Stopping near the north end of the port town, where they watch Tovis the war engineer, and engineers in the Sultan's army, breaking down some of the heavy weaponry, and adapting some of the others.
The undead warlord quietly says in the hordes dialect of the southern tundra "We could of dealt with that overweight cunt with ease if we had Shur Kee with us".
Jarjin Littlefoot nods in agreement as he stands beneath the branches of a tree to get out of the direct sunlight on this warm, tropical summer's day.
The halfling who was an air sailor in the Viceroy's military until he died in battle nearly two weeks ago now.
Knows that Shur Kee with his unique abilities, and that he isn't a magic user. Could take down the Sultan with ease.
"Then again, that might not of worked with the monk too" says Des'tier, who continues with "That fat fucking prick has probably read Mira's mind so thoroughly, that he would of found out what the monk actually is, and what he's capable of".
"True" says Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, who then adds "I hadn't thought of that".
The hobbit from the mainland of Dreese then grunts, when the lord and ruler of the lands Farque mutters "Fucking mage" followed "He's the one who got us into this fucking mess in the first place".
Councillor Littlefoot stays silent, as this is really the first time the undead warlord has spoken about this since they came through the rift/void that Mira Reinholt accidentally cast.
The undead being, doesn't say anything else on the matter, instead he continues to watch the engineers, and those helping them, do the work they're doing as they prepare to leave, and the fleet heads to the island of Solma in the morning.
So the halfling decides to speak up, though on a different matter entirely, and he says "I wonder how the others are doing?".
The former air sailor in the Viceroy's forces continue with "And if they went to search for that witch?".
"They'll be fine" says Draugadrottin, who continues on with "And they fucking better of".
The lord of the death realm pauses for a moment or two, then he says "Tam knows what to do" he follows that with "And with Lis he's got someone to talk about ideas and strategies with".
The hobbit, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of Jarjin Littlefoot, nods when the lord of the death realm adds "And Shur Kee will watch over them".
Then the member of lord Farque's personal council winces when the heavily armoured deathlord dryly adds "And then there's those two fucking idiots with them as well" followed by "Who are just as likely to get them into fucking trouble as much as get them out of it".
"That's for sure" murmurs Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman as he thinks of Dorc da Orc and sir Percavelle Lé Dic, and the others in the group, who are back in the Southlands somewhere . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 18.

Summer. The Sultanate Of Dreese.

Tovis the war engineer stops and looks back when Jarjin Littlefoot says to him "Slow down will you".
The young engineer from the kingdom of Druvic waits for the hobbit, who was previously an air sailor in the Viceroy's fleet.
Tovis sets off again, this time more slowly, so that the halfling can keep up with him.
"Where is he?" quietly asks Jarjin Littlefoot, who though he's a hobbit who lived on the mainland in the Sultanate of Dreese.
He's really a hordes barbarian outrider from the southern tundra, by the name of Zubutai Timaginson who just happens to find himself inhabiting the body of the former air sailor.
"I can't see him" reluctantly adds Jarjin as he looks ahead trying to get a glimpse of what's infront of them.
But there's too many of the Sultan's soldiers in the way, as they and most of the rest of the army have just returned to the port town after traveling for two days, from the otherside of the island where the battle took place.
"Down on the beach" quietly says Tovis the war engineer, who when the soldiers infront of them hear his voice, they part for the young engineer and the hobbit as they make their way forward.
"He's not too close is he?" quietly asks Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, who then adds in sour tone "We can say goodbye to Mira if he is".
"He's not too close" is the reply of the war engineer, who nods in acknowledgment to the soldiers who nod in respect to him. As he's one of those most responsible for the string of victories they've had of late fighting against the Viceroy's forces.
"I think he knows what he's doing" adds Tovis, who served as the war engineer to a baron Harkonin in his homeland of Druvic before he joined the group.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that" dryly says the hobbit who was an air sailor in the Viceroy's air fleet.
"He brought me back in this damn body" dryly mutters the halfling as he walks alongside the young engineer, who grins and barely refrains from laughing when he hears that from Jarjin Littlefoot.
They're just to the south of the port town, and as they head towards the nearby sandy beach. More and more of the Sultan's soldiers get out of their way. And eventually the halfling sees lord Farque standing on the beach.
There's a handful of the Sultan's personal guards standing about twenty yards opposite the undead warlord.
While further down the curving beach, more than a hundred yards away. Is the flagship of the Sultan's air fleet.
Which the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese has just returned to, and boarded. With his concubines, his cadre of spellcasters. And others, mainly members of his court.
One such member, the Sultan's Herald, is making his way from the flag ship. Along with more of the Sultan's personal guards. As well as a few spellcasters in the cadre that the Sultan has enscrolled, and has under his control.
Not seeing Mira Reinholt the mage with those particular practitioners of magic.
Tovis the war engineer, quietly says to the hobbit standing beside him "Let's get closer".
As they leave the road, and head down to the sandy beach. The young Druvician engineer quietly asks "What are they talking about?" as he knows Jarjin Littlefoot foot with his naturally enhanced hearing can hear what's being said. And the hobbit from the mainland of Dreese can speak the local language.
The halfling tells the war engineer what he hears they're talking about down on the beach.
"Here comes the honoured herald" says one of the Sultan's personal guards.
Lord Farque ignores him as he looks out over the water, at the smaller ships in the Sultan's fleet, that are moored out from the beach.
"He will tell you the same thing" adds the guard, who like the other five hundred or so personal guards in the detachment that closely serve the Sultan. Is enscrolled by the supreme leader of the Sultanate of Dreese.
A nation predominantly on the east coast of the continent. Lying south of what's known as the five kingdoms. One of which is the kingdom of Wah Lee. Where the monk in the order of Bru Li, Shur Kee hails from.
The herald pushes through those guards who are too slow to part for him.
"You are not to be here dead man" says the Sultan's herald, one of the senior officials at court. Who like many if not all at court, is not enscrolled by their leader.
"You know the consequences if you approach his magnificence" adds the herald.
"Oh shut up you cadaverous looking prick" says lord Farque who speaks loud enough, and in the local dialect so that the soldiers, sailors and officers up on the road, who are watching  things, can hear what he's saying.
The undead warlord who senses both Tovis the war engineer, and Jarjin Littlefoot now standing on the edge of the beach, just thirty or so yards back behind him.
Then says to the herald "Your fat fucking magnificence's is safe from me" the heavily armoured deathlord then silently adds, for now.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his nation. That lies on the otherside of the continent.
Waits for the murmuring from the gathered soldiers, sailors and officers on the road. Who have come to watch what happens, die down.
They took umbrage at how the lord of the death realm described their ruler. But not as much as the Sultan's personal guards, the herald, and the trio of spellcasters who have accompanied the member of court, who is commonly described as the voice of the Sultan of Dreese.
Guards put hands on their weapons, while the three practitioners in magic prepare to cast.
While the herald looks like he's fit to explode, as he's so angry because of what the undead being just said.
Slightly smiling behind the faceplate of his full helm, lord Farque says "I'm more than a hundred yards from" he briefly pauses before he adds "That overweight child molester".
The heavily armoured deathlord says that last bit loud enough, that those at the back of the gathered crowd of soldiers, sailors, and officers. Clearly hear what he said.
"How dare you!" shouts the herald who darts a quick look towards those up on the road watching what's going on down here on the beach.
"It's true though" says Draugadrottin, who has been told by Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy. That when he's met with the Sultan, he's definitely seen amongst his concubines. Those who are barely adolescents or even teenagers.
"Don't try and deny it" continues lord Farque, who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates into the common language as, The Destroyer.
"You fucking skeleton looking freak" adds the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who once again slightly smiles behind the visor of his full helm, where he hears a smattering of laughter and chuckling from the gathered crowd up on the road.
The herald's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, as he's never been treated with such disrespect in his life. Especially not since taking up the post of the Sultan's Herald.
Seeing that he's got the effect he wanted from this confrontation, as he has to keep at least a hundred yards away from the Sultan of Dreese. As do Helbe the elven thief, and Beldane the cleric.
If not, Mira Reinholt the mage will be executed by the supreme leader of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Quickly says to the herald who is still getting over being insulted, and hearing the reaction from the gathered crowd up on the road "Where's general Martos?".
Des'tier continues with "He went to see his fucking magnificence of blubber when he returned, to ask him about the message to the mainland".
"Yes" eventually says the herald when he calms down "He did" adds the bald man, who does resemble a walking skeleton, as he looks so cadaver like.
"Well?" asks the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Well what?" asks the herald, who hates dealing with the mercenaries. Especially the one known as the dead man. As everyone in the Sultan's military and everyone else involved in the war against the Viceroy. Know that he's undead.
"Where the fuck is he?" asks Draugadrottin, who briefly pauses before continuing on with "And did your so called supreme ruler agree to the request for more soldiers from the mainland?".
"And why would he do that?" asks the herald in a haughty tone of voice as he tries to regain control of the conversation with the large, heavily armoured man standing opposite him and those with him.
"Because i told him to" dryly says lord Farque who speaks the local dialect with ease.
"And because the Quick Gull has just returned" adds the undead warlord referring to the small, quick airship that Helbe the elf left on a couple of days ago, to scout to the north of here.
"And they found a substantial number of the enemy on an island called Solma" continues the lord of the death realm, who then says "And if they're as fucking determined as this lot here were".
The heavily armoured deathlord momentarily pauses, before he continues with "Then this lot".
He gestures towards those who have gathered up on the road that runs south of the port town, as he says that.
"Will probably get wiped out if we don't get those reinforcements from the mainland" adds the undead being who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands.
"And why would you say that?" demands the herald, who continues with "His magnificence's army has be most dominate of late".
"You mean since i took over the planning and running of his war" dryly, and loudly says the deathlord of Farque.
More than a few nods come from the gathered crowd of a few hundred up on the road, who are watching things down on the beach.
Trying to ignore that fact, for it's true. The herald says "I'm sure his magnificence's army here will prevail in our next encounter with the traitors forces".
"No they won't" declares Draugadrottin.
"And how would you know?" demands the skeletal figure of the voice of the Sultan, as the herald is often referred to.
"Because unlike you, and his magnificent fatness, i know what the fuck I'm doing when it comes to war" says the large figure in the dark blue, black heavy plate armour, who towers over everyone else on the beach and up on the road. As very few of the locals stand over six foot in height.
"As does general Martos" adds the undead warlord who would freely admit, that the general is one of the few senior officers in the Sultan's forces, who actually knows what he's doing.
The herald just looks at the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, before turning his head slightly, and listening to one of the spellcasters behind him, who has stepped forward to quietly tell him something.
Des'tier slightly nods his full helmed head, as hears what he was wanting to hear.
Then the herald nods in satisfaction, and the spellcaster who spoke to him, steps back.
"The message will be sent to the mainland, and reinforcements will arrive as soon as possible" says the member of court, who follows that with "So decrees his magnificence the Sultan of Dreese".
Lord Farque knows that will happen. For the overweight, and rather degenerative supreme ruler of Dreese. Does what he decrees, one of the few things he actually does.
"And the general?" asks the lord of the death realm, who already knows the answer as he heard what the spellcaster quietly told the herald. But the undead warlord wants the gathered crowd up on the road to hear.
"General Martos has become one of the choose ones" proudly states the herald after darting a quick, and rather nervous glance towards the hundreds of soldiers, sailors and officers up on the road.
Gasps of shock can be heard from the gathered crowd up on the road, that quickly turns to an angry murmuring from many of the officers, soldiers and sailors who are watching and listening to what's happening down on the sandy beach, on this warm tropical summer's day.
For general Martos was a popular man. Who was effectively the leader of the Sultan's army. And now he's become one of the Sultan's concubines.
Against his wishes no doubt. For though many of those in the Sultanate wish to become of the Sultan's personal guards. Very few, if any want to be one of his concubines.
Well, isn't that a pity, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque thinks to himself, who then holds up his left gauntleted hand.
And after a few moments, the angry murmuring up on the road from the gathered crowd dies down.
Draugadrottin faintly smiles behind the visor of his full helm, then for appearances more than anything else, he takes a threatening step forward.
The herald backs away a few steps, as do the personal guards of the Sultan, as well as the trio of casters.
"That" says the undead being, who after a few moments of silence, continues with "Was not a wise thing to do".
Then Des'tier tells the herald "Make sure that message is sent straight away, and see that those troops from the mainland start arriving soon".
The heavily armoured deathlord turns around and walks away, not unhappy at all with the way things have gone. Infact, he's rather pleased at how it went.
While the herald, after breathing a sigh of relief, and muttering "Damn dead man". Turns around, and with the Sultan's guards who were with him, and the trio of practitioners of magic. Head back down the beach to the flag ship in the Sultan's fleet of airships.
Both Tovis the war engineer and Jarjin Littlefoot watch lord Farque walk up to them.
The heavily armoured deathlord looks at the gathered crowd on the road, and tells them "Return to your duties".
After a few moments, the crowd of a few hundred soldiers, sailors and officers start to break up, and head off to what they were supposed to be doing, when they saw the undead warlord make his way down onto the beach.
Draugadrottin walks north along the sandy beach, heading back to the port town that way.
The young engineer and the former air sailor follow closely behind him.
And Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson who has to walk quickly to keep up with the lord of the death realm, quietly asks him in the elven language "What just happened there?".
"What i wanted to happen" is the reply from lord Farque.
Behind him, Jarjin Littlefoot and Tovis the war engineer share a look as they wonder what the lord and ruler of the lands Farque is up to.
Not knowing that he now effectively has control of the Sultan's army. And that the only officer who was in his way, is now out of his way. And no longer a hindrance to what Des'tier, aka The Destroyer has planned . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 17.

Summer. The Island Chain In The Sultanate Of Dreese.

"How was he this morning?" asks Beldane the cleric after they walk through the gateway he's cast, and it disappears behind them when he drops the spell.
"The usual" replies Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy as he looks down at the port town below them.
There the Sultan's fleet is at dock. While the smaller vessels are moored off the beaches to the north and south of town.
While on the broad, white sand beach to the south, a number of the Sultan's airships are on the ground.
"Regretting his mistake like usual" adds the elven spy, who like the fighting cleric beside him, is from the Southlands, which is on the otherside of the continent.
The two of them set off down the path through the tropical forest, that leads down to the port town.
"Hopefully we can find something out" continues Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others in the group.
"Agreed" says the powerful spellcaster in the elven language, which he's learning thanks to the spy Tanith and others.
"Pretty good" says the elf who is originally from the principality of Alínlae, who continues with "Though be careful of how you pronounce that, for agreed is very similar to arse if you get the pronunciation wrong".
The member of the church of Glaine chuckles, then says "I'll keep that in mind".
Dalin nods, then he points away to the left, towards the southside of town, and quietly says "He left a missive in an inn there".
Beldane, nods then looks in the distance to the north, when the spy Tanith points that way and quietly adds "I can just see the airship he's on".
On one of the airships in the fleet of the Sultan of Dreese. Helbe the elven thief looks back at the island in the distance they left this morning.
The airship, a fairly small vessel, just a single mast. Is a relatively quick airship, probably the fastest in the Sultan's air fleet.
They're heading north to scout out the next islands along in the chain. To see where the Viceroy's remaining forces are located.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, that lies off the coast of the Southlands, which is on the otherside of the continent.
Is along for the flight to act as the eyes and ears of lord Farque.
The elven magic user is also along to find the whereabouts of the Viceroy, who is the younger brother of the Sultan.
Though the elven master assassin has ulterior motives for coming along. As lord Farque intends to have this airship. And the elven masterthief is to keep an eye on it. For they'll take it, if and when they're able to free Mira Reinholt the mage from his enscrollment.
"Beldane and Dalin are in the port town" quietly says Narladene the ground pixie who appear on the right shoulder of the highly talented elven spellcaster.
The naturally magical creature who is only visible to the elven master archer, and a pair of seagulls flying alongside the sleek looking, single masted vessel, quietly continues with "Hopefully they can find something out while we're away".
"Hopefully" murmurs Helbe the elven thief as he stands at the port side rail in a midships, looking back in the direction of the island they left early this morning.
"The locals there don't exactly show it, but they're way more sympathetic to the Viceroy's cause, than they are the Sultan's" quietly murmurs the young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel.
"Wonder how they'll take it when word of the Viceroy's forces on their island were defeated?" quietly asks the tiny winged creature, who is originally from the Sunreach Mountains, the highest, and longest mountain range in the Southlands.
"Not well" quietly says the elven princeling from the island of Laerel, who after a brief pause, adds "As lord Farque intends it".
The arched eyebrows of the ground pixie shoot up when she hears that. And she looks pointedly at the young elven noble she's attached to.
Narladene knows that she isn't privy to all of the undead warlord's plans. Nor is the highly talented elven magic user.
But obviously the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel knows some of the ulterior plans of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque. Who is basically in command of the Sultan's campaign against the Viceroy. Whose attempted coup against his older brother failed.
The ground pixie who knows that the elven princeling won't divulge any of those plans unless he deems it necessary to do so.
Looks back at the island they left early this morning.
She wonders what the others, in particularly Beldane the cleric and Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy will find out while they're in the port town, that's on the west side of the island that's dominated by a large, tropical forest covered volcano.
"What's it say?" quietly asks Beldane the cleric after the spy Tanith paid the innkeeper a gold coin for a an envelope, that contained a folded piece of parchment.
"Here, read it for yourself" says Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy who offers the small piece of parchment to the fighting cleric, who is originally from the kingdom of Nastell. A nation that lies well over twelve thousand miles away to the west, in the Southlands.
"I can't, it's in elven" says the member of the church of Glaine, who then dryly adds "I can barely speak a few sentences, so reading in elven is out of the question for now".
"You'll be surprised" says the elven spy who hails from the principality of Alínlae, who grins as he offers the small piece of parchment again to the fighting cleric.
Beldane, who is quite a powerful spellcaster, who knows there was some kind of spell on the envelope. He couldn't sense it, but he figures there was one, due to it was left to them by Helbe the elven thief.
Takes the piece of parchment from Dalin, and he blinks in surprise when he sees the words in elven that's written on it, change to the common language.
"Now, that's clever" murmurs Beldane, who is always surprised at the ingenuity of the spells cast by Helbe the elven thief. Spells that he can never sense, due to the casual ease in which the young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel can hide his spells.
The fighting cleric who has shed some of his plate armour, nods his head when Dalin quietly tells him "Only us in the group can read it, anyone else trying to do so, will get a nasty surprise knowing his highness".
Beldane after reading the missive left by Helbe the elven thief, quietly says "He recommends we try down by the docks" followed by "And amongst the fishermen down there".
The spy Tanith nods, then the two of them make their way to the nearest of the docks in the port town. A town that's fairly large for one in the islands. With a population of around ten thousand people, it's definitely one of the larger towns in the chain of islands that make up part of the Sultanate of Dreese.
The two of them, obviously mercenaries, and obviously foreigners. As the locals tend to be darker of skin. While both of them are fair haired, and are tall. While the locals are more likely to be short, with very few of them standing over six foot in height.
Find it more easier for them to speak to the residents of the port town. Than it would be for those in the Sultan's forces. Who are predominantly from the mainland.
After speaking to a few of the dock workers, and some of the fishermen. Who are intrigued that there's mercenaries fighting with the Sultan's army. Infact their group, are the only mercenaries fighting in the supreme ruler of Dreese's army.
Soon open up to the fighting cleric and the elven spy. And though nothing is spoken aloud. It's obvious the locals were behind the Viceroy's coup attempt.
As have many others in the northern half of the island chain they've come across.
While those in the southern islands were more on the fence when it came to the coup against the Sultan. Or were dead against it. Like a lot of people on the mainland did.
"Oh we just go where the coin is" says Beldane the cleric in reply to a question from a fisherman, asking why they're fighting for the Sultan of Dreese.
"We would of fought for the Viceroy if we had come across him first" adds the powerful cleric, who is in some of his half plate armour, not all of it.
"But we didn't" continues the cleric in the church of Glaine who shrugs his shoulders, who then follows that with "Such is the life of a mercenary".
Next to the powerful spellcaster, who stands just over six foot tall, and is nearly thirty years old.
The elf, who stands near six and half foot tall, and is about two hundred and eighty years older than the cleric, quietly murmurs to Beldane "Move on".
The fighting cleric thanks the fisherman, and wishes him a good day. Then he and elven spy head to the next dock along. Where some more of fishing boats are tied up.
"Anything?" quietly asks Dalin in the elven language.
It takes a moment or two for the powerful spellcaster from the kingdom of Nastell, to work out what that word means.
Then he nods yes in reply to the question from the elven spy who is originally from the principality of Alínlae. Where he served in one of the more prominent noble houses there.
"They're taking some of their catch to a couple of smaller islands further to the north" quietly says Beldane as they walk slowly to the next dock. Another smaller one, as the larger docks are occupied by ships in the Sultan's navy.
The member of the church of Glaine who read the mind of the fisherman they just spoke to, continues with "He doesn't know where it goes from there, but he's certain it ends up with the Viceroy's forces".
Beldane, who isn't proficient at reading peoples minds. Needs to talk to them for a while before he actually cast a mind read spell. One that actually details what he's trying to find out.
So at the next dock, where they strike up a conversation with a fisherman and his young son, tending and repairing some of their nets after they went out earlier,  well before dawn to set some of their other nets.
It takes a bit of time for Beldane to read the mind of the fisherman. While Dalinvardél Tanith shows some of his weapons, not to mention his pointy ears to the fisherman's son, who is intrigued at the sight of an elf. As he's never seen one before.
Once he's finished speaking with the fisherman, the powerful cleric joins the elven spy who is at the foot of the dock waiting for him.
As they walk along the street that runs along the port side of town, Beldane quietly says to Dalin "Him too" followed by "He's taking some of his catch to those two islands further to the north" he then adds "Like the other one, he just knows the Viceroy's forces end up with it".
"They've got a supply chain" quietly says the spy Tanith, who continues on with "Fish from here, goods and equipment from elsewhere, armour and weapons from a third place. All of which ends up in the hands of the Viceroy and his army".
"And where exactly are they?" quietly asks cleric from the kingdom of Nastell.
"That" says Dalin, who then adds "Is what we have to find out".
As they continue wandering through the port town, trying to find out any information about the whereabouts of the Viceroy of Dreese, or to be precise, the former Viceroy.
Further north, onboard the quick, single masted airship that's part of the Sultan's fleet.
Helbe the elven thief makes his way aft. Occasionally stopping to speak with some of the crew. Who all nod to him as he approaches.
The sailors, both air and sea. Along with the soldiers in the Sultan of Dreese's forces. All show respect to the small group of mercenaries who have joined in with their flight against the Viceroy and his military.
For the simple reason, they've won victory after victory for the Sultan ever since they joined his war against his younger brother the Viceroy.
And that's something a regular soldier and sailor can respect.
Not so some of the others in the Sultan's forces. In particular his personal guards. And some others who serve in his court.
One of whom is onboard, as he's the eyes and ears for the Sultan of Dreese on this vessel, as it scouts out to the north of the rest of the fleet and army.
After chatting with one of the bosuns or boatswains as they're often referred to. And sharing a laugh with him about a particular officer onboard.
The elf from the Southlands, who is more than a novelty amongst the Dreesians. As elves aren't particularly common in the eastern half of the continent. Especially amongst the nations and kingdoms up and down the coast.
Heads to aft and the raised deck there. Where the wheel is located. And though the officers on watch, including the captain welcome him.
Not so the other person speaking with a couple of the junior officers.
A young man, formerly a bureaucrat in the Sultan's treasury. Now a full member of court. Who is essentially the eyes and ears of the supreme ruler of Dreese onboard the single masted airship.
The elven magic user form the island principality of Laerel faintly smiles at the young man who is a member of the Sultan's court.
Who isn't enscrolled like many others who serve close to the Sultan. But he does wear a powerful talisman that protects him from all types of magic. Even anything the young elven noble from the otherside of the continent casts.
The elven master assassin knows this well. As he's cast multiple spells on the young man since boarding the airship well before dawn this morning, and they've all failed.
"Excuse me captain, i shall depart the aft deck for a while" says Silac, the member of the Sultan's court, who continues with "I don't like the company that's suddenly arrived".
The young man who was previously in the service of the master of coin, before he was promoted to court. Nods to the captain, and not even looking at who he was just referring to, makes his way forward along the deck.
Making sure to keep out of the way of the crew. A few of whom have already yelled at him this morning for getting in their way as they do their work.
He might be a member of the Sultan's court. But if your a danger to the safety onboard of an airship, and how things run, you'll quickly hear about it.
"Sorry about that" says the captain of the single masted vessel.
"No need to apologise" says Helbe the elven thief as he stands beside the ship's captain, and the sailor at the helm.
"It happens quite often in my line of work" adds the young elven noble who is the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel.
"Oh?" says the captain, followed by "What's that like?".
"You get used to it" says the elven masterthief who sees that the other officers here on the aft deck, are watching and listening to the conversation at the wheel.
"Some people who think they have influence or are in charge, just don't like others who come in, and help out" continues the elf from the Southlands, who follows that with "Especially those of us who do what we do for coin, and are good at what we do".
The captain nods, then says "Must be an interesting life being a mercenary". As mercenaries aren't exactly common in the Sultanate of Dreese. They are in some of the other nations up and down the east coast of the continent. But not in Dreese.
"It can be" says the elven princeling, who then grins and continues with "For starters we get paid a hell of a lot more than regular soldiers" he briefly pauses, before adding "And sailors".
"I thought it would be something like that" dryly says the captain, which causes the elven master assassin to laugh.
And a moment later, the captain ruefully laughs. Which causes the officers on the aft deck to chuckle. And even the helmsman to crack a smile.
"Not to mention the bonuses we get" adds the highly talented elven spellcaster.
"Geez you don't have to rub it in" dryly says the ship's captain, which causes his officers to laugh again. And even the sailor at the helm to chuckle under his breath. And not get reprimanded by any of the officers.
Helbe the elven thief, who in just a morning, has basically the entire crew in his confidence.
Nods away to the northeast, and says "There's a small island that way to starboard" when the laughing dies down.
"You can see it already?" asks the captain in surprise, after he calls out to the lookout in the crows nest to search the sea to starboard on the bow quarter.
"One of the advantages of being an elf" says Prince Helbenthril Raendril, who continues with "I can see long distances, and similarly hear far away too".
"Now that's pretty handy" says the captain, who then gives an order to the helmsman after the lookout up the mast, confirms that there's an island away to the northeast as he looks down at the ocean through his brass, cylindrical eyepiece.
"That it is" says the elven magic user as he listens to the member of the Sultan's court, standing at the starboard rail towards the bow. Quietly muttering to himself about the presence of the elven masterthief being onboard . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 16.

Summer. Dreese. Island Chain Off The East Coast Of The Continent.

As he sits upon a fallen tree looking at the Sultan's tent that's only about fifty yards away.
Dalinvardél Tanith the elven the spy slightly shakes his hooded head as he sits there in the early morning light, remembering that day a few months ago in the spring.
The elven spy originally from the principality of the Alínlae woke up late that morning in the boarding house in the unruled lands about halfway between the kingdom of Girdane and the Maldin Hills in the Southlands.
He was sitting on his bed yawning when all of a sudden the ceiling in his room was tearing apart and being lifted upwards.
As he soon was, along with the rest of his room, as well as the most of the rest of the boarding house he and the rest of the group were staying in.
The spy Tanith doesn't know what happened next, as he was knocked out by a bit of flying debris.
Next thing he knew, was that he was lying beneath a pile of rubble and debris. And that he was in a garden of all places.
Then soldiers who he didn't know, and would later learn served the Sultan of Dreese. Dug him out of the pile of debris, and had taken him prisoner with the others who came through the miscast rift/void spell. Including some of the others in the group.
Helbe the elven thief had disappeared with Beldane the cleric. But of the rest of the group who had been pulled into and through the miscast rift/void spell.
They were prisoners. Due to the fact that Mira Reinholt was captured by a cadre of spellcasters under the control of the Sultan of Dreese.
And if they didn't comply, the once powerful mage who was the one who miscast the rift/void spell that they would later learn had brought them to the otherside of the continent. Would be killed if they didn't do what they were told.
Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Clearly recalls seeing lord Farque contemplating being taken prisoner or not. As he weighed up the decision to see the mage Reinholt die or not.
As they could of easily escaped their prisoners, though it would of cost the Vexilian mage in exile's life.
Eventually the undead warlord allowed himself and the others to be taken as prisoners.
The elven spy who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses in his homeland of Alínlae.
Smiles at the memory of that, as he recalls when they were stripped of their weapons. That every one of their captors who took hold of lord Farque's sword instantly died. And in the horrible fashion that someone does, when they touch the massive weapon that's been in the lord and ruler of the lands Farque's family for well over a thousand years.
The Sultan's soldiers decided to let the heavily armoured deathlord keep it that day. As the threat of the mage Reinholt's death was enough to keep the lord of the death realm in check.
The group, along with the others in the boarding house who were pulled through the miscast rift/void.
Would eventually be released to serve in the military of the Sultan of Dreese. In his war against his younger brother the Viceroy, who attempted a coup and failed.
Helbe the elven thief and Beldane the cleric would rejoin the group then. Once it was safe to do so. And the young elven noble had found some spell gems that protected anyone, especially spellcasters.
From the powers of the Sultan, who has enscrolled not just a cadre of practitioners of magic. But untold others who serve him, mostly his concubines and his personal guard detachment.
The Sultan of Dreese, though he's an obese degenerate. Is extremely smart when it comes to his rule. Especially when it comes to matters of war.
As his senior military staff are not under any enscrollment, and serve him willingly like the vast majority of his forces.
And the Sultan's generals and senior staff soon learnt that they now had a military genius in their army.
And lord Farque was soon coming up with the tactics and plans to counter the Viceroy and his forces. Who though their coup had failed. Was still defeating the Sultan's military whenever they fought.
That all changed when the deathlord of Farque took over the Sultan's strategies. First driving the Viceroy's army off the mainland, and onto the chain of islands off the east coast of the continent.
All since the end of spring, and now in the warm tropical summer. The Viceroy's army has been driven north through the chain of islands that's part of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Dalin looks back into the camp, where it's quiet around the Sultan's tent as it always is first thing in the morning. As the supreme ruler of Dreese is a late riser.
And those enscrolled by him, have a semblance of freedom whenever he's asleep. Though they're never really actually free.
The spy Tanith sees once such individual make their way from the tent next to the large one that's the Sultan's.
Quietly speaking with two others in the same predicament who are already outside as the sun rises up across the ocean to the east, on what feels like is going to be another warm summer's day here in the chain of tropical islands.
The elf from the Southlands watches them, then sees the one in the black hooded cloak look around, then spot him sitting on the fallen tree nearby.
He walks over to the spy Tanith, passing some of the Sultan's personal guards. Who are a lot more calmer when their ruler is asleep,
Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy slightly nods his hooded head and quietly says "Morning" in the elven language.
When Mira Reinholt the mage sits down next to him on the fallen tree, and quietly says to him in elven "Morning".
"You have no idea how much of a relief it is when that fat prick fucks himself silly and sleeps in" quietly says the once powerful mage.
"So you've said before" says Dalin, the mage Reinholt slightly winces when he hears the tone in the voice of the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae.
The elf from the Southlands is sorry for the predicament that the Vexilian mage in exile is in at the moment.
But he, like the rest of the group. Are definitely not sorry that Mira got himself, and them in the predicament they're all in at the moment.
The spellcaster who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster knows that lord Farque could of escaped when they were first captured, and would of freed the others at the expense of Mira's life if he had wanted to.
But he decided not, and now he and the others are serving in the Sultan's military. While the mage Reinholt is still enscrolled by the Sultan. Who is a spellcaster himself. Not extremely powerful in magic. But what he is though, is clever.
Who has a cadre of over twenty practitioners of magic, including the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, under his control, doing his bidding.
Changing the subject, as he knows he only has a limited amount of time before the Sultan is awake, and has complete control over him again, unlike the partial control at the moment.
Still enough that the mage Reinholt can't wander off too far, unless he wants to fall over dead if he's not careful.
Quietly says to the elven spy originally from the principality of Alínlae "Has she been able to get any closer at all?".
"She still can't" quietly replies Dalinvardél Tanith as the two of them converse in the elven language.
"He has two of them" adds the elven spy from the Southlands as they look out across the ocean at the sun rising in the east.
"Must do" quietly says the highly skilled swordmaster, who is also a member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"One of the wizards has seen one trapped in a crystal the Sultan has" quietly says Mira Reinholt, who continues with "It's a sprite".
"The lord says the other is a water pixie" quietly says Dalin, who follows that with "Narladene can't get close unless they're freed, until then they'll just keep warning the Sultan about her and anyone else".
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, nods a little glumly as he looks out across the water.
Then after a few moments of silence, the member of lord Farque's personal council, asks "Any other options?".
"None so far" is the reply from the elven spy who is an officer in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque.
The mage Reinholt grunts, then lets out a sigh. As he's been enscrolled, and held against his will for nearly two months now.
And those two months haven't been easy on him. And he's been in a number of bad situations in his life, but this has to be one of the worst.
"Any word on the location of the Viceroy?" asks the exiled Vexilian swordmaster, who knows that if all of the Viceroy's forces are defeated, and the Viceroy is brought before the Sultan. He, Mira will be released.
"Nothing" is the quietly reply from the spy Tanith as he watches the sun rise up in the morning sky.
"Helbe is out looking for him again" continues the elf who like the mage, is from the Southlands, which is on the otherside of the continent.
"Beldane and i will go out as well this morning" adds Dalinvardél Tanith, who then says "Hopefully when can find something out about where he is".
"Looks like that's the only way i can get free" quietly says the mage Reinholt.
The spy Tanith who would like to say something along the lines of, well you got us into this mess in the first place.
Just nods his hooded head, as he can't be bothered wasting his time on saying such things.
He knows Mira knows how he and the others feel about the situation they're all in at the moment.
And how it's all the Vexilian mage's fault because of the rift/void spell he miscast.
The only positive in all of it, is that they didn't end up offworld. Like the mage Reinholt did, the last time he miscast a rift/void spell over a dozen years ago.
After looking back behind them at the heavily forested volcanic mount that dominates the island, the highly skilled swordmaster asks "What's the plans?" followed by "He doesn't tell us much unless we're called into action".
"We'll head back to port, and make our way to the next island where they might be" says Dalin as the Sultan's army has just defeated the Viceroy's forces on this island. An island, like many in the northern half of the island chain where the local population is more than a little sympathetic to the Viceroy's cause. And who would rather be under the rule of the younger of the two brothers.
"At least you get to fly" says the spy Tanith, who sees a few people, concubines making their way out of the large tent that the Sultan lives in when he travels.
The supreme ruler of the nation of Dreese refuses to live or stay in a building when he's away from his palace over on the mainland. It's just one of a many quirks that the Sultan has.
"I'd rather sail than fly with that lot" mutters the once powerful mage as he looks at the men and women standing outside of the Sultan's tent.
As a lot of the concubines willingly go under enscrollment. Unlike the cadre of spellcasters, and his personal guards who serve him.
The elf from the Southlands slightly nods, then he smiles when the Vexilian mage asks him "How's he doing?" followed by "What's his name again?".
"Littlefoot" is the reply from Dalinvardél Tanith, who continues with "Jarjin Littlefoot".
"Littlefoot" says the mage Reinholt with a shake of his head, and a snort of laughter.
"I couldn't believe it when you showed up with him after we just got here" says the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, who then adds "I nearly pissed myself laughing".
"I know the feeling" says Dalin who follows that with "I was laughing my head off when i realised it was really him".
"Whatever decided Farque to bring him back as that?" asks the mage Reinholt as he continues to grin as he recalls seeing the hobbit Jarjin Littlefoot, who in actuality is really Zubutai the barbarian hordesman. Who like him, is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"The lord just told Helbe to find a body that was intact, so that's exactly what his highness did" says the elven spy originally from the principality of Alínlae, who briefly pauses before he continues with "Though Helbe when he found the body of the halfling, thought it would be a laugh if the hordesman came back as that".
The Vexilian mage in exile chuckles at that, then as he's just about to say something, he suddenly winces and mutters "Fuck".
As the spy Tanith sees the nearby concubines and personal guards of the Sultan suddenly stiffen in the morning sunshine, Mira Reinholt gasps "He's waking".
Dalin nods, then he stands, and helps the member of lord Farque's personal council to stand.
"Be careful Mira" quietly says the elven spy who is an officer in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque.
"You too" murmurs the highly skilled swordmaster, who then stiffens and a slightly forced smile appears on his face.
Dalin who knows his fellow Southlander is back under complete control of the Sultan of Dreese.
Nods his hooded head as he sees that the eyes of the once powerful mage are the only thing about him that appears normal.
Mira Reinholt blinks his eyes in reply, then he turns and walks back to the tent that he and the other spellcasters stay in when they travel with the Sultan.
The spy Tanith watches the enscrolled mage for a few moments. Then as the Sultan's personal guards look his way. And before they come over, and ask him what he wants.
The elf from the otherside of the continent, turns and walks away. Heading back to the Sultan's army, which is camped a bit further away. A few hundred yards around the coast of the fairly large island, that's dominated by a volcano that's covered in a warm tropical forest.
As he walks to the camp, Dalin sees that the soldiers who are up, and packing their gear and equipment. Are in a good mood after another victory yesterday against the Viceroy's forces. Even though it was the most bloody and fiercest battles so far on any of the islands.
A battle that lasted a couple of days. When most of the engagements on the islands between the two forces, are over relatively quickly.
The soldiers that Dalinvardél Tanith pass, nod and call out in greeting to him. The elven spy nods his hooded head in reply. As the army, who serve a degenerate despot. Respect him and the rest of the group. Because of lord Farque, who has brought them victory after victory in the fight against the Viceroy's forces.
The spy Tanith spots lord Farque down on the beach, and he makes his way down to it, and the undead warlord.
Dalin sees a number of the senior army staff standing off to one side, about forty yards away. No doubt wanting a word with the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
But they won't approach him unless he waves them over, or if he walks over to them.
The elven spy who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses of his homeland of Alínlae, stands next to the heavily armoured deathlord who is looking out to sea, as he stands on the white sands of the beach.
"How is he this morning?" asks lord Farque.
"He's fine" replies Dalinvardél Tanith, who after a slight pause, adds "Well, he was until the Sultan woke, and he was back under full enscrollment again".
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head, and the elven spy says "He did mention that a sprite is encased in a large crystal" followed by "One of the other spellcasters saw it".
"The water pixie is in something similar" says the deathlord of Farque, who shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders, then says "No matter" followed by "I'll deal with him when the time comes".
Dalin nods his hooded head, as he knows when the time is right. The lord and ruler of the lands Farque will kill the Sultan of Dreese, or have Helbe the elven thief kill him.
Especially if the Sultan reneges on their deal to give them an airship, and release Mira Reinholt when the Viceroy's forces are finally defeated. And the Viceroy is brought before his older brother the Sultan of Dreese.
"I'll head off with Beldane soon" says the spy Tanith, who then asks "Is Helbe already around the island in the port town?".
"He is" says the undead being, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands.
"He'll tell you two which way to go before he leaves the island" adds the lord of the death realm.
The elf from the Southlands nods his hooded head, then after he looks back at the camp behind them, that's being broken down, as the army prepares to head back around the island to the port town.
Dalin quietly says "That battle was a lot tougher than i thought it would be" followed by "And longer than i thought it would it last too".
"It was as long as it needed to be" quietly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, whose name in the elven language is Des'tier, which translates into common as, The Destroyer, who then adds "It went as long as i wanted it to be".
The spy Tanith lifts an eyebrow in surprise, then looks sideways at the heavily armoured deathlord, who stands even taller than him, and Dalin isn't exactly short, as he stands nearly six and half foot tall.
The elf originally from the principality of Alínlae glances over at the nearby senior staff in the Sultan's army.
Then he looks back at the army that's preparing to make it's way back around to the otherside of the island. An army that lost more soldiers, and had more wounded in the battle over the last two days. Than in most of the previous battles combined in the war between the Sultan and Viceroy of Dreese.
The elven spy from the Southlands slightly nods his hooded head in somewhat of an understanding, as he figures the undead warlord is up to something. Then Dalin says "I'll just get going".
He turns and makes his way back up the beach, to go and find Beldane the cleric so they can get underway for the day.
The spy Tanith glances back at lord Farque who looks out to sea as the sun continues to rise this morning. Then the heavily armoured deathlord waves over the nearby senior officers in the Sultan's army.
Dalinvardél Tanith looks ahead again, and wonders what plans the lord and ruler of the lands Farque has install for the group, and the Sultan's army they're serving in at the moment . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 15.

Spring. Elsewhere.

"That's all he had" says Tamric Drubine the field commander as he puts the maps down on the table infront of lord Farque.
"He hasn't been there in years, and has no new ones of the place" adds the nobleborn teenager who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
"It's not hard to get around" says lord Farque, who continues with "The place just goes straight up and down, south to north" the undead warlord follows that with "With the locals living on both sides of the range. It should be fairly fucking easy to find her".
The heavily armoured deathlord after a brief pause, says "The only problem is that it will soon be summertime, and it can get stinking fucking hot up in those dry hills".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque glances back at Dorc da Orc who is sitting on the floor behind them, drinking from a large barrel of ale.
And knows that the ork warleader will particularly struggle up in the Maldin Hills when they finally get there.
The undead being who also goes by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, looks at Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera who are sitting at the table with him this morning.
While sir Percavelle Lé Dic has just entered the tavern, and is making his way towards their table.
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic who is carrying his full helm tucked under his right arm, sourly smiles as he sees Dorc da Orc is already drinking, even though it's still fairly early in the morning.
"Hmmm a witch" states sir Percavelle Lé Dic as he sits down at the table "Is it all that necessary to find her?" asks the former paladin who then adds "Wot".
"Yes" dryly says the deathlord of Farque.
"Pity" mutters the former earl of Lé Dic, who thinks witches should be burnt at the stake, and not searched for, then asked to join their group.
"We have plenty of these denizens of the foul arts in our company wot" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic who is more commonly referred to as Percy by the others in the group. With the exception of Dorc da Orc, who calls him knight cunt, among many other derogatory terms he calls his bitter rival. The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic.
"The elf prince, that cleric chap, who still prays to the wrong god i tell you" continues the former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in his homeland.
"And that mage of course" adds the member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
"What can this evil witch do, wot" asks the heavily armoured knight.
"Witchy things" dryly says lord Farque.
The nobleborn knight is about to continue his diatribe against the idea of finding this witch named Saanea, who is somewhere in the Maldin Hills, which is towards the coast of the Southlands.
But he shuts his mouth as he sees the lord and the ruler of the lands Farque looking directly at him. And notices the flash of bright blue light in the eyes of the heavily armoured deathlord.
Percy clears his throat, and instead calls out to one of the serving women in the tavern, trying to get her attention, to get something to eat for breakfast.
They're in a trading town in the unruled lands about eight hundred miles west of the kingdom of Girdane. And a similar distance east from their destination the Maldin Hills. Well, at least that distance from the southern end of that hill range, which lies about fifty or so miles inland from the coast of the Southlands.
The tavern they're in, is down the street from the boarding house they're staying at, as the trading town doesn't have an inn to stay at, as they prepare to head west. To try and locate a witch by the name of Saanea. Who has been revealed to Helbe the elven thief through his power of foresight. To be important in the plans of Lord Farque.
"Probably best to start on the west side of the hill country" says the lord of the death realm, who then adds "That's where the vast majority of the people in those hills live" he follows that with "And where most of the still operating mines are located".
The undead warlord is about to say something else, when all of a sudden he falls silent. And behind the faceplate of his full helm. The heavily armoured deathlord slightly frowns as he starts sensing something up the street.
"My lord?" asks Tamric Drubine after he shares a look with Lisell Maera when the lord and ruler of the lands Farque suddenly falls silent.
Then Draugadrottin or Des'tier as he's known in the elven language, which translates to The Destroyer in common.
Mutters "Fuck" then suddenly stands up, and is moving. Infact he's moving so fast that he's just a dark blur of movement. The front door of the tavern explodes as lord Farque runs through it to get outside.
In his second storey room in the boarding house in the trading town. Helbe the elven thief frowns again as he senses Mira Reinholt the mage down the hallway about to cast, then decide not to.
The once powerful mage has been doing that on and off since just before dawn, when he most likely woke up.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel finds it annoying. As he's trying to concentrate, as he makes a few magical potions this morning.
"What the hell's he doing?" quietly asks Helbe the elven thief when Narladene the ground pixie appears on his right shoulder a few moments later.
"Who?" asks Narladene the ground pixie "Mira" replies the elven magic user who then adds "He's been at it since dawn, and it's damn annoying".
"I don't know" says the naturally magical creature who continues with "I just got back to town now".
"And where have you been?" dryly asks the elven masterthief.
Who doesn't expect a proper answer from the tiny winged creature. And he doesn't get one, when she grins and tells him "Oh, around is all".
Then the ground pixie, who is from the Sunreach Mountains, frowns, then says "Huh?" followed by "What's that?".
Narladene who like all pixies and sprites can sense spellcraft before it actually happens, suddenly shouts "Danger!".
Though he blinks in surprise, the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel slams up wards around himself, both a barrier and protection spell.
As he does, the highly talented elven spellcaster senses. And he senses his fellow member of lord Farque's personal council. Mira Reinholt the mage casting a spell.
At first, the elven princeling thinks it's a rift spell the once powerful mage is casting. A spell the exiled Vexilian mage has never been able to cast.
But a few moments later, the elven master assassin realises it's a completely different spell even though it feels like a rift spell. And by then, it's too late.
After looking out the east facing window in his room again. Mira Reinholt looks down at the table next to his bed, at the open spell book he's been reading since just before dawn.
The once powerful mage who got this particular book on the Kaldel Plains last year. And has been reading it ever since, whenever he's had free time to do so.
Looks at the particular spell he's been studying since last year. It's a rift spell, a spell he's never been able to cast.
One he's now sure he's able to cast, even with the relative lack of power he has nowadays.
The spellcaster who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil. Has been about to cast it a handful of times already this morning. But so far, he hasn't actually cast the spell.
Much to the annoyance of his fellow member of lord Farque's personal council, Helbe the elven thief who is down the hallway.
As well as Beldane the cleric, who is about to leave his room, down on the first floor of the boarding house.
"Come on Mira, you can do it this time" Mira Reinholt the mage mutters to himself as he contemplates the spell book once again.
The exiled Vexilian mage takes a deep breath, then he exhales. As he does, the once powerful mage casts the rift spell.
It's a spell he casts perfectly as he looks at the spot in the room where it will appear.
Though he casts it a little too perfectly. And in doing so, he actually miscasts it. Casting a different spell altogether.
One that pops into his mind. After not casting, all that should be miscasting it, in over fifteen years.
Instead of a rift slowly forming in the middle of the room. A rift/void suddenly appears. Which starts sucking everything in the vicinity into it.
As the walls and floor in his room are ripped apart. The mage Reinholt tries to sourly mutter "By the shape of fire". But he's knocked off his feet. And he's drawn into the rift/void, as the room is torn apart around him.
A rift/void spell, just like a normal rift or portal like spell, has to be sustained as it's cast.
So as he's scrambling along the floor as it breaks apart beneath him. The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil tries not to sustain it. As it will be easier to try and drop it once he does.
Unfortunately for the member of lord Farque's personal council. The bedside table comes tumbling his way, and smacks into the back of his head.
And as the Vexilian spellcaster, who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster, starts to black out, and he's unable to fight against it.
He for one of the few times since losing his vast amounts of powers offworld a number of years ago, temporarily gets them back.
And the power of the spell increases expeditionary so. The rift/void gets larger, and it's destination gets a hell of a lot further than what Mira intended the rift spell to go.
As he's lifted up, and goes flying through the air as he's falling into unconsciousness.
An image pops into his head. Of a place he visited many years ago. A place he visited when he was living on the otherside of the continent when he was in his early twenties. Where he had fled to after betraying lord Farque and Dorc da Orc after he first met them, five years previously at the battle of Vexil when he was just seventeen.
As bits of debris flies all around him, the mage Reinholt goes flying into his rift/void as it sucks him into it.
As he goes through it, the Vexilian mage in exile's knows that his miscast spell will drop once he's unconscious, which is about to happen any time soon.
Unfortunately for the once powerful mage, when he comes out of the otherside of the rift/void. He lands in a fountain and it's pool, in the vast gardens of a palace on the otherside of the continent.
Where the water shocks him so much, that he comes up out of unconsciousness for a bit.
It's also unfortunate for the boarding house that he was just in. And the people who are in at the time. As the destruction goes on unabated as the miscast rift/void continues to pull everything into it.
As the boarding house starts to get torn apart, and pulled into the rift/void. Helbe the elven thief, whose room isn't all that far down the hallway. Goes to slam the shutters of his room open, so he can see somewhere to shift away to.
Unfortunately that's when the mage Reinholt temporarily gets all his power back. And the miscast spell gets a hell of a lot more powerful than it just was.
As Narladene the ground pixie mutters "Fucking hell" as the room around them is torn apart.
The elven magic user grimaces as for a moment he feels how powerful his fellow spellcaster Mira Reinholt really is.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel often forgets how powerful the exiled Vexilian mage was.
But at this time he can't. As he's picked up, and his wards are shredded to bits. As rift/voids being rift/voids don't care for anything including magic, as they draw in everything and anything into them.
Except for magically natural creatures like Narladene. Who yelps "Fuck!" as the elven princeling she's attached to is picked up, and goes flying through the air in the direction of Mira Reinholt's room.
It looks like the elven masterthief is going to smash into one of the bedroom walls. But it's torn apart before he smashes into it. And the debris, just like prince Helbenthril Raendril, and everything else is drawn to, and into the miscast rift/void. The ground pixie flies after him.
Downstairs on the first floor. In the hallway directly beneath the one the spellcasters Reinholt and Raendril are on.
Beldane the cleric frowns again when he senses the mage Reinholt about to cast again.
The fighting cleric in the church of Glaine hopes the once powerful mage goes ahead with it this time. As it's getting annoying with the Vexilian mage going to cast, then not.
The cleric originally from the kingdom of Nastell instantly regrets that thought a few moments later when he meets Tovis the war engineer outside his room.
As he's just about to greet the young engineer from the kingdom of Druvic. Beldane thinks councillor Reinholt has just cast a rift spell of all things. But it's not, it's a rift/void that he's miscast, which suddenly draws everything into it.
The powerful cleric goes to grab his mace as he knows it will get him out of danger a hell of lot quicker than anything he does, as he's picked up off the ground as the ceiling then the hallway walls break apart, and are drawn upwards.
Instead, Beldane reaches out and grabs Tovis the war engineer who shouts "Fuck!" as he goes flying upwards in the direction of the miscast rift/void.
The member in the church of Glaine as he grabs the young engineer, isn't too worried, knowing that a rift/void cast by Mira Reinholt won't be too dangerous as the Vexilian mage isn't powerful at all. And the miscast spell won't be sustained for long.
But that doesn't happen. As there's suddenly a surge of extraordinary amount of power that Beldane senses. And the cleric from the kingdom of Nastell realises that's the true strength of Mira Reinholt's magical powers. A strength in magic that the fighting cleric wouldn't believe was possible for anyone.
"Hell" mutters Beldane the cleric who grimaces as wards he puts up around him and Tovis as they go flying upwards are shredded apart.
The spellcaster in the church of Glaine silently prays to his god as he wonders where they're going to end up as he's powerless to stop being drawn up and into the miscast rift/void.
On the otherside of the boarding house, the street side. Shur Kee the monk who is about to head downstairs, frowns and turns around when he hears what sounds like a loud drawn in breath, followed by a cracking sound.
The short, statured monk sees the hallway behind him cracking apart. The acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li backs away, then as he turns to run for the stairs, he's knocked off his feet, as something forceful knocks him down, and pulls him backwards.
As he scrambles along the floor, Shur Kee grabs a frame of a door that's open. The physical adept holds on for dear life with both hands. Knowing that if he goes to grab the jade shard on the necklace he wears. He will lose his grip and go flying backwards through the air.
Suddenly this end of the hallway explodes inwards as lord Farque comes flying into second storey hallway.
Shur Kee looks up, and relief passes through his body when he sees the undead warlord.
Who grabs him by the right arm, and flings him out the side of boarding house, through the hole in the wall he just created when he entered.
The short, statured monk winces as it feels like he's flying outside at an incredibly slow speed.
Infact that's exactly what's happening to him. It feels like a lifetime as he slowly falls to the street outside.
It's when he's just a few feet off the ground, about twenty feet out from the boarding house, that things return to normal.
Shur Kee lands with a roll, and looks up the street, where he spots Tamric Drubine, Lisell Maera and sir Percavelle Lé Dic running this way. With Dorc da Orc following them at a distance.
The short, statured monk who is surprised to still find his hat on his head. Spins around, and sees the boarding house falling into itself.
Meanwhile inside the doomed structure, lord Farque who has sensed that Mira Reinholt, Helbe the elven thief, Narladene the ground pixie, Beldane the cleric and Tovis the war engineer are no longer here.
Has run as far as he can, as there's no floor left to run on as the miscast rift/void draws everything into it.
The heavily armoured deathlord spots the bright light of the rift/void and leaps through the swirling debris towards it.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque goes through it, and a few moments later it vanishes.
Draugadrottin runs out into a garden, and comes to a stop, and looks around at the debris scattered everywhere.
He spots a fountain close by. And sees Helbe the elven thief breathing heavily next to it, standing over an unconscious Mira Reinholt who the young elven noble has just punched in the face and knocked out.
Looking around, lord Farque mutters "Where the fuck are we?". Then the next moment he senses someone casting, and the next moment the mage Reinholt disappears.
"Fuck" says Helbe the elven thief when his fellow councillor suddenly disappears.
The young elven noble looks around and sees lord Farque walking his way, and he nods his hooded head when the lord of the death realm says "What the fuck has that mage just got us into?".
As they see soldiers and others approaching through the large gardens they find themselves in . . . . . .