The Lost Ones 56.

Summer. The Sultanate Of Dreese.

The airship the Quick Gull swings out to starboard across the beach and over the trees of the tropical forest on the otherside of the road.
An energyball explodes just thirty feet behind it as lord Farque, who is at the wheel takes it away from the chaos that's been unleashed on the beach.
"A few ward spells would be handy you two" says Helbe the elven thief to Mira Reinholt the mage as well as the Viceroy of Dreese.
Who are little disoriented after suddenly appearing on deck just a few moments ago.
The crew and officers, not knowing what's really going on. Jump to the orders shouted at them by lord Farque.
While Beldane the cleric hurries forward to check on the mage Reinholt, the Viceroy of Dreese along with Dalinvardél Tanith the elven thief.
Who are all a little unsteady on their feet after going through a shift spell that Helbe the elven thief had placed in the fractured spell gem that was given to the once powerful mage.
A fireball streaks by the stern of the small single masted airship as it turns inland.
"Hell" says Tovis the war engineer as he watches the fireball go by, he then turns to the undead warlord at the wheel, and says "They're not happy are they?".
"Can you blame them" dryly says lord Farque.
"I guess not" quietly says the young engineer originally from the kingdom of Druvic, which is in the Southlands, all the way on the otherside of the continent.
As the undead warlord shouts out in the local dialect "Haul that line in!". And some of the crew jump to his orders.
Both the war engineer Tovis, and Jarjin Littlefoot the halfling. Look to aft, back to the beach, at the south end of which is the Sultan's flagship, and his royal pavilion.
A beach where all hell has broken lose, as the Sultan, the supreme ruler of Dreese. Lies dead on the sand infront of his pavilion.
Those nearly thirty spellcasters who have been under the direct control of the Sultan. Some of whom have been under his control for more than four years.
Are finally under their own control now that the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese is dead.
And they're finally free to do what they want. And what they want, is revenge for what's happened to them.
The nearly thirty spellcasters who have had the shared experience of being under the direct control of the now dead Sultan of Dreese.
Take out their anger on anything and anyone they see. Starting with the members of the Sultan's court who have been traveling with him during his campaign against his younger brother the Viceroy.
The first of whom to be killed. Is the herald of the court. The so called voice of the Sultan.
Who on having the rather overweight supreme ruler of Dreese fall on top of him.
Managed to pull himself out from under the dead Sultan. Only to have himself go up in a pillar of flames as he stumbled to his feet. As a rather irate sorcerer set him on fire.
Other members of the Sultan's court are killed as well. One has their head explode as they try to run away.
While another is envisorated as they stand there infront of the royal pavilion, completely dumbfounded at what's just happened.
While a lady of the court's head explodes as she stands there screaming as she looks at the dead body of the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Most of those from the Sultan's court are killed when a mage, blasts away the entire bow section of the large triple masted airship that's the Sultan's flagship.
Killing a fair few of the crew onboard the vessel, as well as some of the Sultan's personal guards.
The spellcasters who have been under the complete control of the Sultan of Dreese.
Take great pleasure in killing those of the Sultan's personal guards who are at this end of the beach.
One finds himself standing there with both of his arms chopped off. While another is cut in half at the waist. He is still alive for a bit as he lies there on the sands of the beach, looking at the lower half of his body lying next to him.
One of the Sultan's personal guards goes flying through the air, going over a hundred feet out over the water, which he hits at speed.
While another from the Sultan's battalion of personal guards. Is bent over double, puking up his insides, with his entrails coming out of his mouth, as a rather clever wizard finds various inventive ways in killing those who have been part of the nightmare that the spellcasters have been living under, until just a few moments ago.
As a member of court who is covered in bright orange, then blue flames goes running into the channel. And continues to burn as the water doesn't put the flames out. And as the royal pavilion starts to burn.
The nearly thirty spellcasters who the Sultan of Dreese had enscrolled. Turn on the rest of the Sultan's forces, who have made it onto the other end of the beach. And are on the road just up from the beach.
As well as out on the water, as many of them have come down from their camp by boat and ship.
While other boats and ships have crossed the channel, or are crossing the channel from the other island. That lies here near the equator, at the very north of the chain of islands that are off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
The only thing the nearly thirty spellcasters don't turn on. Are the Sultan's concubines.
The only people who have had it worse than they have. As boys, girls, men and women, concubines all. Stand around, watching what's happening in disbelief. As their minds are now their's again, now that the Sultan of Dreese is dead.
Some wander away, to get away from the carnage unleashed by the spellcasters who were the Sultan's very own cadre of practitioners of magic who he controlled.
But even those concubines who don't move off the beach. Are perfectly fine. As not a single spell unleashed in fury comes their way.
And if one accidentally did. They would still be fine. As the spellcasters, even in their anger and fury. Have put up wards around those who were concubines to the supreme ruler of Dreese.
After Beldane the cleric casts a light healing spell on Mira Reinholt the mage. The only one to really need it, as he's physically tired after being under the control of the Sultan of Dreese since the springtime.
The once powerful mage, the elven spy, the fighting cleric, along with the Viceroy of Dreese make their way to aft.
A few of the crew recognise the local nobleman, after all he was previously their commander.
They stare at him as he walks by with the some of the foreign mercenaries. Until an order is yelled at them from the stern deck.
On the stern deck, the mage who is from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands. Slightly grimaces as lord Farque takes one look at him, then ignores him, as he addresses the member of the royal family that's ruled the Sultanate of Dreese for a number of generations.
"Told you it would work" says the undead warlord to the local nobleman.
"Yes you did" says the Viceroy of Dreese, who had his doubts it would work. He slightly flinches as the sound of a large explosion can be heard from the beach they're getting further away from.
"So i guess we start calling you Sultan now" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin by the people of his nation.
"Er?" says the Viceroy, who then adds "Well" followed by "I don't know about that".
"Might as well" says the heavily armoured deathlord who is looking forward at the bow, where Helbe the elven thief has positioned himself.
The young elven noble who is from the island principality of Laerel, which lies off the coast of the Southlands. Is looking down at the tropical forest below as lord Farque takes the Quick Gull inland.
The highly talented elven magic user holds up his right arm, and calls something out in the royal elven language.
The lord of the death realm calls out a some order, which is relayed by the ship's captain. Who no way in hell was going to stand against the foreign mercenary called the dead man when he and other foreign mercenaries came onboard.
The small, single masted airship slows down, and comes to a halt, just a mile and a half inland from the beach they were on previously.
"Put some strong wards up behind us" says Draugadrottin to Beldane the cleric and the Viceroy of Dreese "There's a mageglobe coming this way" adds the undead warlord who has commanded the Sultan's forces in the war against the Viceroy.
As the two spellcasters do, Mira Reinholt quickly creates a mageglobe of his own, which he flings away. It shoots over the head of Jarjin Littlefoot, who the Vexilian mage in exile notices for the first time realising who he really is, causing the spellcaster from the Southlands to burst out laughing.
"I see you damn well told him" says Jarjin Littlefoot the halfling in an accusing tone of voice in elven to the spy Tanith.
Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, can't help but snort as he suppresses the laughter that threatens to escape.
The elf from the principality of Alínlae in the Southlands, where he previously served in one of the more prominent noble houses in his homeland.
Just nods his hooded head in response to the accusation from the hobbit who is a former air sailor in the fleet of the Sultanate of Dreese.
The small airship drops down towards a clearing in the trees that covers a lot of the interior of the island.
As it does, lord Farque looks over at the captain of the Quick Gull and says to him "You and your crew have got a decision to make".
The heavily armoured deathlord who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means, The Destroyer. Then tells the captain of the small single masted vessel "You can either join him" as he nods at the Viceroy of Dreese.
"Or you can stay onboard with us" continues the undead warlord who then adds "By the way, we're going halfway around the world, so take that into consideration when you make your decision".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque briefly pauses before he tells the captain "If you don't choose. I'll kill the fucking lot of you".
Draugadrottin briefly pauses again, as there's a loud explosion about four hundred yards to aft of the Quick Gull. As the mageglobe created by Mira Reinholt, encounters the one from an irate mage back on the beach, over a mile and half away to the east.
"Quick" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who then tells the ship's captain "You haven't got much time".
The Quick Gill's captain momentarily pauses, then he turns and starts shouting out to his officers and crew, to come to him as he something important to tell them.
As the small airship hovers thirty feet over the clearing, the hobbit from the mainland of Dreese, slightly frowns, and jumps up and holds onto the port rail as he looks overboard.
The former air sailor, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to find himself inhabiting the body of Jarjin Littlefoot, nods his head when he spots something.
Hoping down off the port rail, the hobbit who along with Mira Reinholt the mage, and Helbe the elven thief, are members of lord Farque's personal council, says "They're heading this way". "I know" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The Viceroy of Dreese hurries to the port rail, followed by Mira Reinholt the mage.
As the once powerful mage frowns as he wonders what's going on. The local nobleman who is also a spellcaster, who is now able to feel his magical powers again. Suddenly grins as he spots movement in the tropical forest.
Helbe the elven thief who has made his way back from the bow, says to the slightly confused looking mage Reinholt "His army" as he nods his hooded head at the Viceroy.
Still frowning, the Vexilian mage in exile says "I thought they were defeated yesterday".
"They were" says the young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, who then adds "We let a fair few of them escape to the west side of the island yesterday" the highly talented elven magic user continues with "I went and spoke them last night, told them to come back this way before dawn" he briefly pauses before adding "Seems they listened to me".
The Viceroy of Dreese turns to lord Farque, who tells him "You and your forces might as well stay back out of the way, and wait for those spellcasters to do all your dirty work".
The undead being who has lead the Sultan's forces in the campaign against the Viceroy briefly pauses then adds in a slightly dry tone of voice "Besides some of them might turn on you lot in their anger".
"That's true" quietly says the local spellcaster, who looks at the large heavily armoured figure at the wheel, then the other foreign mercenaries, and he says "What about all of you?".
"Like i said, we're leaving" says Draugadrottin, who continues with "We've given you the chance for victory, it's up to you take it".
The Viceroy of Dreese nods as he recalls the number of games of Shāh he played against the foreign mercenary known as the dead man by the Sultan's forces, all of which he lost.
The local nobleman slightly nods again, in understanding this time, when lord Farque quietly tells him in the dialect of Dreese "I'm no longer in command of your brother's forces".
And with a nod of his full helmed head in the direction of the beach they've just left, where from even a mile and half away, they can all hear the thud of ship out in the channel explode, blowing debris and water up into the air.
The lord of the death realm says "You've got a distinct advantage now, even with the numbers you've got left" Des'tier momentarily pauses before adding  "Like i said, probably best to wait for that pissed off bunch of spellcasters to do your dirty work".
"I will" says the Viceroy, who is the younger brother of the now dead Sultan of Dreese. Who can now take the Sultanate for his own if he's victorious in defeating the remainder of his older brother's forces.
Looking at the ship's captain, lord Farque calls out to him "Well have you lot made up your fucking minds?" the heavily armoured deathlord then adds "Because we're leaving".
The rest of the group who were brought here to Dreese by a rift/void spell that Mira Reinholt the mage accidentally cast back in the Southlands.
Are all pleased to hear that from the lord and ruler of the lands Farque. That they're leaving . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 55.

Summer. The Coast Of The Southlands & The Lowlands.

It takes a bit of convincing on their part, and also a whole lot more in the way of pay.
But most of the crew of what can only be called pirates. Come along with them as they head inland into the lowlands.
While a small skeleton crew remain with the coastal raider, in the small port town that they docked in.
They head along a well used road that goes inland. Heading towards a fairly large town about ten miles away, that happens to be the hometown of one of them.
"I've got more stored there" quietly says Sharnd the flatland merchant as he walks beside Brossic the mercenary, who is also from the flatlands or lowlands as they're often called.
Glancing back at the pirates who are behind everyone else as they head east, towards Sharnd's hometown of Falmare.
Brossic the flatland mercenary quietly says "Good" followed by "The sooner we can pay that lot the extra we've promised, the better".
Next to the leader of the five who have plans to create a nation of their own up in the Maldin Hills.
Sharnd who is annoyed that they've lost his airship. Grunts in agreement with Brossic, as it's fairly obvious the crew of what can only be described as pirates. Aren't that happy to be away from their ship and the sea.
As for the others they hired in the port town of Gilsom. They're fine and doing what they're told. Following the lead of the mercenaries that Brossic, Sharnd along with Halnard, Spranen and Grunna had hired previously.
Infact many of them are looking forward to doing some work. As this is the first major job for some of them this summer. Usually the busiest time for mercenaries anywhere.
The road they're on, is going up one of the few rises in this part of the lowlands. Especially here, closer to the coast. As you're more likely to find undulating terrain further east, closer to the Maldin Hills.
Which on this clear summer's morning on the flatlands. Can be seen about thirty or so miles away.
At the top of the small rise, the wizard they hired has gathered about four of the other mercenaries to him.
And they disappear, reappearing further east on the road, about a mile away.
Grunna the sorcerer suddenly appears on the rise, and says to Brossic and Sharnd as they approach "Ready?".
The flatland mercenary Brossic replies with a nod of his head. And after the spellcaster from further down the coast of the Southlands, waves over three of the other mercenaries on the road to join them.
They all disappear as Grunna teleports them further to the east, about a mile away.
"We'll be in Falmare fairly soon as we keep doing this" says Grunna, who looks back to the west along the road, and a few hundred yards back, he spots the magic user they hired in Gilsom, appear with two of the other mercenaries off to the side of the road.
With a grunt, Sharnd the merchant says "Beats walking all the way there i suppose".
Nodding his head in agreement with his fellow lowlander, Brossic the mercenary says "I agree".
And though the leader of the crew who have designs of creating their own nation up in the Maldin Hills. Is a little worried that they're all stretched out like this along the road.
This part of the flatlands, like a lot of the land between the Maldin Hills and the coast. Is fairly safe, where road bandits and criminals aren't at all common.
And if any are in the area, the group who fled the large port town of Gilsom, and made their way south down the coast. Are large enough to deal with any trouble that might show up. As there's over a hundred of them now with the addition of the crew of coastal raiders and the other mercenaries they hired up the coast in Gilsom.
As Grunna disappears to go back and get more of the mercenaries who are following.
The two lowlanders Brossic and Sharnd continue on their way. Soon coming upon Halnard, who is waving those of the mercenaries on this part of the road onwards, as they head inland to the town of Falmare.
"Spranen out infront?" asks Brossic the mercenary.
"He is" replies Halnard the mercenary who is from the port town of Gilsom.
"Making sure we don't get too spread out" adds Halnard.
Brossic nods, as he wouldn't expect anything less from Spranen, who is the most cautious of the five of them who have plans to carve out their own nation up in the Maldin Hills.
"We should be in Falmare soon enough" says Brossic who like Spranen, Halnard and Grunna has been to Sharnd's hometown plenty of times in the past.
"Think we might be able to pick up some more mercs there?" asks Halnard as they walk along the road.
"Maybe" says Sharnd, who continues with "We hired a fair few of the first lot there" he follows that with "About the only ones we'd find there now, are those who are traveling through there".
The flatland merchant briefly pauses before he adds in a slightly dry tone of voice "That's if we can afford to pay for anymore of them".
"We'll be able to, and you know it" says Brossic the lowlander who leads the crew of mercenaries who have had a few setbacks of late.
"Especially considering we don't have to pay for the upkeep of an airship, and it's crew anymore" adds Brossic.
Which though causes Sharnd to scowl at first, though he does grunt in agreement with his fellow flatlander.
As he now has a bit more free capital as he no longer has an airship, or a crew for it.
"That maybe true" says Sharnd, who after a brief pause continues with "But getting about on an airship is a hell of a lot easier than what we're doing at the moment".
Halnard nods to that, then the mercenary from the port town of Gilsom says "Maybe we'll be able to buy some horses in Falmare?".
"Maybe" grunts Sharnd, who then adds "But no where near enough for all of us".
Brossic nods in agreement to that, and as the wizard they hired recently suddenly appears with three of the pirates they also hired in Gilsom, about fifty yards behind them.
The leader of the mercenary crew who have designs on creating a nation of their own up in the Maldin Hill range, says "We'll buy what we can".
Brossic pauses for a moment or two, before he adds "And then we continue onto the hill country, and carry out our plans".
The airship sets down upon the ground, just beside the coast, south of the hill range known as the Cascades.
The group of Tamric Drubine the field commander, Lisell Maera the messenger, Shur Kee the monk, sir Percavelle Lé Dic, Dorc da Orc and the newest member of the group, Saanea the witch, disembark.
As the merchant vessel they've caught a ride on. Is going further to the south, before it heads inland across the Southlands.
Well south of the southern tip of the Maldin Hills, which no doubt is the group's eventual destination.
Field commander Drubine waves farewell to the ship's captain as it lifts off. Then he hurries over to where the others have gathered.
Looking at the hillwoman he's attracted to, Tamric Drubine the field commander asks her "Where are they?".
"On a road heading inland" replies Saanea the witch who has been keeping an eye on those they're pursuing through her familiar.
As both Lisell Maera and Tamric Drubine take out maps, and Dorc da Orc, who has always been captivated by flying, watches the departing airship.
The spellcaster from the Maldin Hills says to the young field commander in the armies of Farque "To some town called Falmare".
The nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin nods his head as Lisell Maera the messenger says "Got it".
The attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, who is now a runner or messenger in the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque, then adds "They must be on this road here".
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well. Quickly finds the road and the town of Falmare on one of his maps too.
"We can cut cross country here" says the nobleborn teenager who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, that's located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
"We can get to that road fairly quickly" adds the field commander Drubine, who then looks at the pretty looking spellcaster from the Maldin Hills and asks her "Up for teleporting us a few times?".
"I am" is the reply of the witch who is the newest member of the group.
"Good" says Tam, who then looks at the others, then adds "Let's get going then".
Saanea teleports them a few times, getting them about four miles inland from where they were dropped off along the coast.
They then walk for a while, for the simple reason Tamric Drubine doesn't want the witch to get tired, that is tired magically.
As she might need to use a fair bit of her power when they eventually catch up to those they have pursed from the Maldin Hills, to the port town of Gilsom. And now here to the flatlands, or lowlands between the coast and the hill country called Maldin.
As they walk by a copse of trees, one of the numerous copses dotted across the lowlands.
The young field commander, who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque, asks the others if any of them have been to the town of Falmare before.
"I do not think so" replies Shur Kee the monk, while sir Percavelle Lé Dic answers "Sorry young Tam, i can't remember if i have or haven't" followed by "I might of flown over this place in the past, wot".
Next to the large, heavily armoured knight from the kingdom of Druvic. The short, statured monk from the far east coast of the continent, nods his head in agreement with him.
The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin knows that Lisell Maera, like himself hasn't been there.
Nor has Saanea the witch, who until a few days ago. Had never been down into the lowlands to the west of the Maldin Hills.
Tamric Drubine looks back at Dorc da Orc who is following himself and the pretty looking hillwomen as they walk side by side.
"Dorc, have you ever been to this town of Falmare before?" asks field commander Drubine.
"How the fuck does Dorc know?" asks Dorc da Orc.
"Good point" murmurs Tam, who then nods when he sees the large ork tilt his head to one side, as if he's listening to something. Which is exactly what the ork warleader is doing. As he's listening to the myriad of voices in his head.
"Nah cunt" says the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who continues on with "Don't think me been there" followed by "Dorc will fucken know when we get there".
The large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque, then starts to repeatedly sniff, to see if there's any scent in the area that interests him.
What he's actually doing is searching for any signs of dwarves. Which he always does no matter where he goes. As killing dwarves is pretty much his number one priority in life. Just behind eating and drinking, not to mention fucking just about anything.
With Lisell Maera the messenger out infront, followed by sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Shur Kee the monk. Then Dorc da Orc at the rear of the group.
Tamric Drubine the field commander asks the pretty looking hillwoman walking beside him "What are they up to now?".
Saanea the witch, a spellcaster from the Maldin Hills, closes her eyes as she walks, to see what her familiar is watching.
Brossic the mercenary looks at some trees just off to the side of the road, after he and Sharnd the merchant, and three of the other mercenaries reappear after Grunna the sorcerer teleports them here.
Brossic, who spots a small bird land in the branches of one of the trees, looks around then nods and says to the merchant beside him "This looks familiar" followed by "We're not all that far from Falmare, aren't we?".
Nodding his head, Sharnd the lowland merchant says "We're pretty close" the flatlander continues with "About a mile and half away".
Pointing up ahead along the road they're on, Sharnd says "Just beyond that copse up there, we'll be able to see it" the merchant who was born and grew up in this area of the lowlands then adds "The road follows a large stream to town".
"That's right" murmurs Brossic, who was last in Falmare with the rest of the group at the end of spring, when they first started hiring mercenaries, to help them with their plans to carve out a nation of their own up in the Maldin Hills, which they're getting closer and closer to. Which Brossic hopes to return to fairly quickly.
They walk the rest of the way to the town of Falmare. While the trio of spellcasters, Grunna the sorcerer, and the wizard and magic user they hired in the port town of Gilsom. Teleport those at the rear, mainly the pirates closer to the town that Sharnd is from, and still lives in when he's not traveling about.
As Spranen and Halnard send those of the hired mercenaries to a number of inns in town, to wait for their orders.
Sharnd tells Brossic "Don't know if i should go home at the moment" followed by "My wife might be annoyed that i show up out of nowhere".
Brossic the mercenary, who is also from the lowlands, nods his head. As he knows the merchant isn't particularly enamoured with his home life.
Oh Sharnd loves his wife fine enough. And he's loyal to her, and never cheats on her while on the road. Unlike Grunna the sorcerer, who is the other one out of the core group of five, who is also married.
It's just that the merchant from here in Falmare, finds his three children, aged from five to thirteen, totally annoying. And a nuisance more than anything else. It's why he's away from home quite often, on both legitimate and illegitimate forms of business.
"We'll head to my offices instead" says Sharnd the merchant.
Brossic nods his head, then says to one of the mercenaries in the small group with them "Go and tell Halnard and Spranen to meet us at Sharnd's offices" followed by "And have someone tell Grunna the same thing when he finally gets here".
They head through the streets of Falmare, one of the largest towns in all of the unruled lands west of the Maldin Hills called the lowlands, or as they're sometimes referred to, the flatlands.
As Brossic and Sharnd, and a handful of the other mercenaries they've previously hired make their way to the offices of the merchant Sharnd.
A small bird, a finch. Lands upon the eaves of a roof on this warm, and clear summer's day in the lowlands.
And looks down at the group on the street below as they head to the offices of Sharnd the merchant.
Saanea the witch opens her eyes, and looks at Tamric Drubine the field commander who holds her left arm as they walk.
"They're in the town of Falmare" states Saanea the witch, who continues with "By the looks of it, they might be there for a little while, at least the rest of the day" the pretty looking hillwoman then adds "Probably leaving early tomorrow morning".
Tamric Drubine the field commander, who reluctantly lets go of the witch's arm now that she's opened her eyes, nods his head and says "We'll get there well before then" he briefly pauses before continuing with "Then we'll take them by surprise again" . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 54.

Summer. The Islands Off The Coast Of The Mainland Of Dreese.

He stands there infront of the pavilion with the other spellcasters not really knowing what's going on.
Just that the person they've been after all summer has finally been caught.
As he stands there, Mira Reinholt the mage puts a hand in one of the pockets of his black hooded cloak.
And thumbs the small gem that's in it, that he knows he's supposed to use in someway. Just when, or how. He's not exactly sure.
As he stands there next to the tall elven mercenary who has a hold of his left arm.
The Viceroy of Dreese looks at his older brother the Sultan. Who sits upon the cushion covered platform infront of the large tent that's the royal pavilion.
On it with the supreme ruler of Dreese is his herald and a number of the Sultan's concubines. Who are holding up parasols to shade the Sultan from the early morning sunshine.
The younger brother of the Sultan knows that he's about to be handed over to the supreme ruler of the Sultanate.
And that his opportunity to do what's planned is almost upon him.
The Viceroy, well former Viceroy, stands there calmly waiting for the opportunity to arise.
As he stands next to the prisoner the Viceroy holding his left arm. Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy waits for the terms of agreement to be fully met.
The elf from the principality of Alínlae, which is in the Southlands, which is faraway to the west, on the otherside of the continent.
Knows that they've only got one chance for this to work. And even if things go wrong. They've still got to take the opportunity that's before them.
Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others in the group.
Keeps his eyes on the Sultan of Dreese up on the raised platform infront of the large tent that's the royal pavilion.
For what's about to happen, has more to do with the supreme ruler of the Sultanate. Than it does for either the Viceroy or the mage Reinholt, or Dalin himself.
On his platform infront of his pavilion, the Sultan of Dreese can no longer stay silent as they wait, and he says to the foreign mercenary "Is there a reason my traitorous brother has one of those gems on him?".
Nodding his hooded head, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy says in reply to the Sultan "There is".
Sitting there amongst the cushions on the raised platform infront of the royal pavilion, the supreme ruler of Dreese waits for the tall elf in the gray hooded cloak to elaborate, and when the foreign mercenary doesn't, the Sultan says "Well?" followed by "Why?".
Standing there as though he's contemplating something, the spy Tanith refrains from grinning, as the obese nobleman who rules the Sultanate of Dreese, is even more predictable that he and the rest of the group thought.
The elven spy from the Southlands eventually says "Because we don't want you" Dalin then gestures at the nearby practitioners of magic standing infront of the pavilion as he adds "Or any of your pet spellcasters knowing what we're doing".
Which is actually true, more so that what the Sultan could actually realise.
"We had to keep him close since we captured him yesterday" says the spy Tanith with a nod of his hooded head at the prisoner standing next to him.
"For the simple reason a lot of your men would of wanted to kill him" continues the elven spy who is an officer in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque.
"Even though they were told not to harm him" adds the elf who previously served in one of the more prominent noble houses of his homeland of Alínlae.
The Sultan grunts at that, for he knows that even though he ordered that his brother the Viceroy was not to be harmed if and when he was captured.
He knows a good many of his soldiers, sailors, air sailors and especially his personal guards, would of liked to of killed the Viceroy themselves if they were able to get their hands on him.
"Since we had him so close, he overheard a lot of what we had to discuss" explains the elven spy from the Southlands, who slightly shrugs as he continues with "Most of which wasn't important, and had to do with us leaving straight away once the terms of the agreement between us was fully met".
The Sultan of Dreese grunts again, while next to him on the raised platform, his herald nods.
For the group of foreign mercenaries have made it no secret that they will immediately leave once the Viceroy's forces were defeated, and the Viceroy, if caught, was to be handed over to the Sultan.
And that the mage named Mira Reinholt, will be released from the control of the Sultan, and handed over to the rest of the group of foreign mercenaries.
Who have commanded the Sultan's campaign against the Viceroy and his forces. Which has finally seen the defeat of the forces of the Viceroy, here on the islands separated by a channel of water at the very north of the chain of islands off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
Both Dalinvardél Tanith and the Viceroy of Dreese glance behind them, as the Sultan along with pretty much everyone else infront of the pavilion, and on the nearby flagship, look away to the north.
And as a large number of the Sultan's forces make their way down the beach, and just above the beach on the nearby road, in this direction. A small airship can also be seen flying south in this direction.
It's the Quick Gull, the smallest and fastest airship in the Sultan's fleet. Which has been called for, and which all of those here at this end of the beach have been waiting for.
As Dalin and the younger of the two nobleborn brothers who have been at war with one another. Look at the Sultan again on the raised platform infront of the pavilion.
The supreme ruler of Dreese glances down at what he's holding in his pudgy right hand.
It's the top end of his walking stick, a gnarled almost sap like looking gem that adorns the top of the stick.
Which the Sultan, a man only in his early thirties, has to use to get around as he's so fat.
The clever, not to mention powerful spellcaster who rules the Sultanate of Dreese. Looks carefully at the trapped sprite in the gem at the top of his walking stick.
And though it floats about inside the gnarly looking gem in torture and pain. It gives no warning to him about any impending danger.
The Sultan slightly grunts, and though he hates the idea of giving up one of the spellcasters he has under his control.
And giving up one of his airships, even though it's the smallest, it also happens to be the fastest.
He will do these things as he honours the agreement with the foreign mercenaries. For the simple reason he can get his hands upon his younger brother the former Viceroy of Dreese. Who he plans to make suffer, before he actually executes him for his failed coup, and the subsequent war between the two brothers and their forces.
"There it is" says the Sultan of Dreese with a nod towards the Quick Gull which is coming down towards the beach "The Quick Gull" adds the supreme ruler of the Sultanate.
The small single masted airship puts down upon the beach, right beside where lord Farque and the rest of the group are standing, just over a hundred yards north of the Sultan's pavilion. Well the rest of the group minus one. As Helbe the elven thief disappeared when no one was paying attention.
"The ship is yours" states the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese, who sounds slightly bitter at giving up one of the airships in his fleet.
Then he looks at his younger brother the former Viceroy, standing there just a dozen or so yards away. And he slightly grins, and doesn't feel so bitter at giving away one his airships.
The powerful and accomplished spellcaster who is part of the royal family that's ruled Dreese for a number of generations, then says "Now hand over that traitorous brother of mine".
Dalinvardél Tanith clears his throat, then directs a pointed look over to where Mira Reinholt the mage is standing amongst some of the cadre of spellcasters who are under the direct control of the Sultan.
The supreme ruler of the Sultanate, sourly smiles, then says "Yes, of course" then he turns and looks at the practitioner of magic from the Southlands, and says to him "You, go and join your comrade".
With the dead eyed look of one still under the compulsion of another spellcaster.
The mage Reinholt steps away from the front of the pavilion and the other spellcasters who are enscrolled by the Sultan of Dreese.
And makes his way over to where the tall elf in the gray hooded cloak, and Viceroy of Dreese who is his prisoner.
As the once powerful mage stands beside him and the local nobleman who he still has a strong hold upon.
The spy Tanith after quickly glancing at his fellow Southlander, he says to the Sultan "That spell you've got on the mage" followed by "Get rid of it".
"Of course" says the supreme ruler of Dreese, who flashes a grin after a sour looking smile briefly appears on his pudgy face.
The next moment, the mage from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, stumbles a step forward, before he's able to steady himself.
And after he shakes his head from side to side as he suddenly finds himself no longer under any control from the Sultan of Dreese.
He looks at the spy Tanith and nods his head. As he does, the mage Reinholt puts a hand in one of the pockets of his cloak. And feels the small gem he has in it.
The once powerful mage, who now knows what to do, and more importantly when to do it, cups the small gem into his gloved right hand which he takes out of his pocket.
"He's all yours then" says Dalin who then lets go of the Viceroy's left arm, and shoves the local nobleman forward.
"To do whatever you want to do to him" adds the elven spy from the Southlands as the Viceroy falls to his knees in the sand just before the raised platform.
While the gloating Sultan gets up from amongst all the cushions on the raised platform. And with the aid of his walking stick, and the herald who scrambles to stand up.
The supreme ruler of the Sultanate, who sends those concubines on the platform with him, scrambling out of his way.
Makes his way down off the raised wooden platform, to stand infront of his younger brother.
"Have fun with your victory" says the elven spy from the Southlands.
"Oh i will" says the Sultan of Dreese as he stands over his younger brother, the former Viceroy of the Sultanate.
"I bet" murmurs Dalin, next to him, the mage Reinholt nods in agreement.
Then as the supreme ruler of Dreese says "Now brother, i am going to make you pay".
The Viceroy of Dreese as he's on the sand, says "Not before i make you pay" and with his right hand slaps his older brother in the legs.
For though the spy Tanith indeed has a small needle like steel point that could stick out of the left sleeve of his cloak.
It's actually the Viceroy of Dreese, who has the exact same thing in the right sleeve of his shirt.
And the poison tip of the needle like steel spike, slashes though the silk fabric of the Sultan's lose fitting pantaloons.
Scrapping across one fat leg, then the second of the supreme ruler of Dreese, who suddenly yelps in fright.
As the Sultan yelps, the spy who hails from the elven principality of Alínlae in the Southlands, where he served in one of the more prominent noble houses there.
Grabs the left arm of Mira Reinholt, and takes a few steps forward with the mage.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil, at the same time throws the small gem he's holding.
He throws it right infront of him and the spy Tanith. Right behind where the Viceroy is kneeling in the sand.
And as the herald to the Sultan shouts something. And the Sultan's personal guards react.
The small gem which is flawed, and has a number of cracks in it. Hits the sand and shatters apart. Releasing the spell that's contained within.
The sprite within the gnarled looking end of the Sultan's walking stick shouts out a warning. Which reverberates through the walking stick that the supreme ruler of Dreese can feel.
As he suddenly topples sideways as he no longer has control over his legs.
His younger brother the Viceroy suddenly vanishes, as do the two foreign mercenaries. The tall elf in the gray hooded cloak, and the mage in the black hooded cloak. As the spell within the flawed gem takes effect.
The Sultan of Dreese hits the sand, landing on his side. Squashing his herald, who grabbed the obese supreme ruler of the Sultanate and tried to keep him upright.
The Sultan can no longer feel anything below his chest. The next moment, he can't feel anything beneath his neck. As under him, the herald screams out in pain, calling for help.
The next moment, the Sultan of Dreese can't feel anything at all. As the instantaneous acting poison in his system takes full effect.
Even his large size, and weight. Can do nothing to stop the poison his younger brother just hit him with.
The Sultan of Dreese is dead just a couple of moments after he hit the sand.
Then suddenly nearly thirty spellcasters who were under his direct control. Are now again themselves.
Nearly thirty spellcasters of varying power and skill. All of whom are more than a little angry with what they've had to endure under the control of the now dead Sultan of Dreese.
Then all hell breaks out upon the long curving sandy beach as nearly thirty practitioners of magic suddenly start casting . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 53.

Summer. The Island Chain In The Sultanate Of Dreese.

With the sun rising in the east they walk south along the dirt road from the camp.
The Viceroy of Dreese walks beside the elf in the gray hooded cloak who has just recently come back from this way.
While the others, the one called the lord or dead man. The other elf in the white hooded cloak. The halfling who is a former air sailor. The fighting cleric along with the young engineer. Walk behind the two of them who are out infront.
Meanwhile quite a lot of the soldiers, sailors, air sailors and personal guards who were in camp.
Are following at a distance as they all head south to a beach that's about a mile and a half from the site of the camp.
Out on the water, ships that were anchored off the shore where the camp is located. Are heading south as well.
While word has got over to the island to the east, on the otherside of the channel. And ships are heading across the channel to see what's happening.
The dirt road goes inland a bit through the tropical forest. And they walk in silence until the road goes back to the shore just a few hundred feet from the long curving beach that's there destination.
They briefly stop there on the road, and the prisoner, the Viceroy of Dreese turns as one of his captors speaks to him.
"So" says lord Farque as he looks at the local nobleman "Are you ready?" adds the undead warlord.
After a few moments of silence, the Viceroy of Dreese nods his head, and replies with "I am".
"No use delaying things then" says the heavily armoured deathlord who then tells the prisoner "Good luck".
The local nobleman nods, then he along with Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy turn, and continue on their way down the road that leads off to the nearby beach. They're followed by the others, who walk at a slow and steady pace.
As they make their way off the dirt road, and cross a bit of open ground to the northern end of the beach.
Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy quietly says to the prisoner "Still got it?".
"I have" replies the local nobleman, who can't help but wryly smile as the tall, elven mercenary walking beside him quietly and dryly says "Let's hope to hell this works".
They walk onto the beach, and turn right and start heading down it. They're instantly noticed by many of those at the other end of the beach as they start making their way down it.
"I see my brother is slumming it again" wryly says the Viceroy of Dreese as he sees the large royal pavilion just up from the flagship of Sultan of Dreese's fleet.
"He does enjoy his creature comforts doesn't he" quietly says the elven spy who hails from the principality of Alínlae, which is all the way on the otherside of the continent, in the Southlands.
The Viceroy of Dreese just grunts to that, then he slightly nods his head, when they see activity from the far end of the long curving beach. And people start heading this way.
Meanwhile the rest of the group behind them, have made their way onto the beach and are following at a distance.
At about a hundred yards from the large triple masted airship nestled on the sands, and the pavilion near it.
Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by those who know him well. Along with the prisoner, the Viceroy of Dreese, briefly stop.
Then Dalin who is an officer in the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque. Takes the prisoner by the left arm, and they continue onwards along the beach.
While the others, stop a little more than a hundred yards from the Sultan's flagship and his pavilion.
Both of which are a hive of activity, as the spy Tanith and the local nobleman stop again, just twenty paces further forward from where they stopped previously.
As the early morning sunshine strikes the beach, there's a small group of people walking in this direction from the flagship and the pavilion.
Most of them are personal guards to the Sultan of Dreese. Along with a trio of others, two of whom are spellcasters that are under the control of the the supreme ruler of Dreese. And the other is the Sultan's herald. Often referred to as the voice of the Sultan.
"I can't believe that walking cadaver is still alive" murmurs the Viceroy referring to his older brother's herald.
"He does a pretty fair imitation of a skeleton doesn't he?" quietly says Dalin as they watch the group walking north along the beach towards them.
The local nobleman who is a spellcaster nods his head to that. As he can see the bulging of eyes, and the excitement on the faces of those walking this way, as they realise it's him standing here next to the tall, elven mercenary who has a hold of his left arm.
Even the pair of spellcasters under the direct control of his older brother the Sultan. Have a bit more life in their eyes than usual as they recognise him standing on the beach beside one of the foreign mercenaries.
And when the group from the Sultan's flagship and his large pavilion get to about fifteen yards from the two of them, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy says "That's close enough".
They stop about a dozen yards away, when the herald holds up a hand. The cadaver like fellow who speaks for the Sultan, who has a wide grin on his gaunt looking face. Nods his head to Dalin, almost a bow. The only time he's ever shown any acknowledgment towards the elven spy whenever he's dealt with him.
"Greetings" says the  herald of the Sultan of Dreese, also the first time he's ever greeted the spy Tanith.
"Greetings" replies Dalinvardél Tanith who barely keeps the wry tone he feels out of his voice, as he looks at the herald, and the small group behind him.
The voice of the Sultan briefly looses his grin as he looks beyond Dalin and the Viceroy. To where lord Farque and the others are standing. He frowns at them, but satisfied that they're more than a hundred yards from the pavilion where the Sultan is. He looks at the tall elf in the gray hooded cloak, and the local nobleman who is his prisoner.
Dalin is silent as he holds the Viceroy's left arm in his right hand. As he waits for the herald to speak. Who he figures is bursting to speak, when he normally waits for the elven spy to start the conversation when they meet.
The elf from the Southlands, who previously served in one of the more prominent noble houses in his homeland of Alínlae, refrains from grinning as the herald can't contain himself.
"I see you lot have caught the traitor?" blurts out the voice of the Sultan.
Dalin waits a moment or two, then he nods and says "We have" followed by "And we have defeated his forces too" he then continues with "On the sea and in the air, as well as here on the island" the spy Tanith gestures to otherside of the channel as he adds "And on the other island too".
The herald, a local nobleman himself, grins in satisfaction at that, then as he looks at the Viceroy, he says "His majesty will be most pleased with this".
He glances at the two spellcasters standing behind him, one a wizard in maroon coloured robes, and the other a sorcerer. Both of whom nod in unison.
"Yes, he's very pleased with this" says the herald who can't help but gloat at the capture of the younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese.
"I can well imagine" loudly murmurs Dalin in a wry tone of voice, which causes the prisoner to slightly grin, and the herald to briefly scowl.
The voice of the herald doesn't let that annoy him, and instead gestures at the Viceroy, well former Viceroy as he's been stripped of his position by his older brother the Sultan of Dreese.
"You are to hand over the prisoner" states the skeletal looking local who is the Sultan's herald.
"Yes" says the spy Tanith who pauses for a moment, before continuing on with "Though when the terms of the agreement are met" the elf from the Southlands then silently adds, here we go then.
The herald slightly grimaces, and does so again when Dalinvardél Tanith says to him "You know, the handing over of the mage who is one of us, who the Sultan has control of" followed by "And one of his airships, as we agreed upon".
The voice of the Sultan steps back as the wizard steps forward, and has a quiet word with the herald. A private conversation that Dalin can clearly here. As the locals don't have elves living amongst them, and don't know that their hearing and sight are far superior to that of humans.
The herald steps forward again after he briefly scowls, he says to the foreign mercenary "Very well".
The spy Tanith slightly nods his hooded head, then he says to the herald "We are to hand him over to the Sultan" he continues with "Well that would be me, since most of the others aren't allowed within a hundred yards of him".
The voice of the Sultan scowls once more, and when he doesn't reply straight away to Dalin, the elf from the Southlands slightly turns his hooded head to glance at the others standing just over twenty yards behind him and the prisoner.
Lord Farque looks at the herald and says to him "Tell that fat fuck you serve that if he doesn't honour the agreement we decided on, he doesn't get his brother" the undead warlord then adds "I'll kill the Viceroy myself if that tubby cunt doesn't uphold his part of the agreement, and that we get what we want when we hand the prisoner over ourselves".
The herald of the Sultan of Dreese angrily scowls, more because of the way the majestic one, the supreme ruler of Dreese, was described by the foreign mercenary called the dead man.
The local nobleman steps back, when the wizard behind him clears his throat. The two of them, have a brief and quiet conversation, which Dalin easily listens to.
With his left hand behind his back, the spy Tanith makes a few hand signals to the others as he hears what the wizard and the herald just discussed. And in reply he hears lord Farque murmur to him in the elven language "Go ahead".
"Very well then" says the voice of the Sultan who can't keep the sour tone out of his voice after he steps forward again.
"Bring the traitor along" adds the herald as he gestures at the Viceroy who is the younger brother of the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Dalin nods his hooded head, and with his right hand firmly gripping the left arm of the Viceroy of Dreese, the two of them walk slowly forward.
At a command from the herald, the personal guards to the Sultan who are with him, surround him and the two spellcasters, and the elven mercenary and the prisoner.
As they all start to walk south along the curving beach towards the large triple masted vessel that's the Sultan's flagship, and the large royal pavilion that's beside it.
The herald, who is walking to the spy Tanith's left, asks the elf who towers over him and the other locals "How is that the traitor is unable to touch his magic?".
The voice of the Sultan gestures at the robed wizard walking beside him, as he says to the foreign mercenary "He's unable to sense him".
"There's a spell cast upon him that prevents him for accessing his magic" says the elf form the Southlands, who shrugs as he continues with "I've no idea how it works, but i could call back to the one in my group who cast it, and tell him to give us a demonstration upon him" as he nods at the wizard walking on the otherside of the herald.
Both Dalin and the Viceroy slightly smile as a look of horror crosses the face of the wizard who is under the direct control of the supreme ruler of the Sultanate.
"That won't be necessary" sourly says the skeletal looking fellow who is a member of the Sultan's court. Infact he's one of the most important members, as he's the Sultan's herald.
"I thought not" the spy Tanith murmurs to himself in the elven language.
Who then looks to those infront of the royal pavilion who are watching the group walk along the beach towards them.
The elf form the principality of Alínlae in the Southlands, sees most of those he's seen before whenever he's spoken with the Sultan.
Most of the members of the Sultan's court who are traveling with him during this campaign.
While the others are up on the deck of the flagship watching the small group walking down the beach towards the triple masted airship, and the large tent that's the royal pavilion.
Also outside, infront of the large pavilion, is most of the cadre of spellcasters under the direct control of the supreme ruler of Dreese.
And apart from the two walking on the otherside of the herald. The rest of the practitioners of magic controlled by the Sultan, are up on the deck of the flagship. Watching what's going on, as the sun continues to rise, here in the very north of the island chain, that's off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
Amongst those spellcasters standing infront of the large royal pavilion. Dalinvardél Tanith sees Mira Reinholt the mage, who he spoke to earlier at the crack of dawn.
As he looks at the member of the group from the Southlands, who is the under the control of the supreme ruler of Dreese.
The spy Tanith hopes the once powerful mage from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, remembers what he's supposed to do.
Then as some of the Sultan's personal guards stand to either side of the front of the pavilion.
The Sultan himself makes his way from the large tent, with a deep grin in the creases of his pudgy face.
The rotund nobleman who rules the Sultanate makes his way up onto a raised platform that's been placed infront of his pavilion.
As he sits amongst the cushions on the platform, some of his concubines make their way out of the pavilion carrying parasols. Which they hold open when they get up onto the raised platform. To protect the Sultan from the rising sun this morning.
As he reclines back amongst the cushions, grinning from ear to ear, as he watches his younger brother the Viceroy, who has been captured, walking this way with one of the foreign mercenaries, and the small group who went to fetch them from the other end of the long curving beach.
Dalinvardél Tanith stops a dozen yards from the raised platform the Sultan is on, forcing the others with him to stop as well.
After slightly scowling at the elven spy from the Southlands, the herald to the Sultan hurries forward, and gets up onto the raised platform, to kneel beside the supreme ruler of Dreese.
While the two spellcasters, the wizard in the maroon coloured robes, and the sorcerer join the other spellcasters under the direct control of the Sultan standing infront of the large tent.
Only the personal guards to the Sultan who accompanied the herald remain with the foreign mercenary and the prisoner. Though they don't surround them, but stand in a line behind the two of them.
There's silence as those on the flagship and those infront of the large tent that's the royal pavilion. Look at the tall elf in the gray hooded cloak. And the local nobleman who is his prisoner.
The local nobleman whose coup against the Sultan failed. Who then fought a war against the supreme ruler of Dreese. Who just happens to be his brother.
"So" says the Sultan of Dreese, who surprisingly speaks up, as he usually lets his herald do the speaking for him.
"We met again little brother" adds the obese figure reclining amongst the cushions on the raised platform.
"Though not how you were hoping i bet" continues the Sultan.
The Viceroy doesn't speak, though he just nods in reply to what his older brother just said. His older brother who has gained even more weight since he last saw him.
"Well" says the Sultan, who briefly pauses before adding "Are you not going to speak?".
The younger of the two brothers who are part of the royal family that's ruled Dreese for a number of generations, is silent for a few more moments, then he says "What's to say?".
The Viceroy of Dreese continues with "I've been captured" followed by "And by all accounts the last of my forces have been defeated" he then shrugs his shoulders to show the predicament he's in.
"Yes" says the gloating Sultan, who continues with "Such a pity" followed after a brief pause with "You traitor".
The supreme ruler of Dreese leans towards to his herald, and quietly confers something with him, which Dalinvardél Tanith clearly hears.
The older of the two brothers who have been at war with one another, briefly scowls, then he grunts and the grin returns to the folds and jowls of his pudgy face.
Looking at the tall elf in the gray hooded cloak who holds the Viceroy, the Sultan says to him "I understand you want the terms of the agreement met before you hand over the traitor".
"Correct" says the spy Tanith who continues with "You hand over the mage, and give us one of your airships" he briefly pauses before adding "The Quick Gull is the one we want".
The Sultan along with the herald, and along with a few others from his court scowl at that, as the Quick Gull, which isn't particularly big, just happens to be the fastest airship in the fleet.
Not letting that annoy him for too long, the supreme ruler of Dreese grins again, then says "What's to stop me from just taking the traitor?" followed by "You know, all i have to do is kill you".
"If you do that" says the elven spy who is an officer in the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque.
"Then he dies too" adds Dalin with a nod of his hooded head at the Viceroy standing beside him.
"Which i know you don't want" says the spy Tanith, who continues with "As you want to kill him yourself".
The Sultan after scowling is silent for a few moments, then he says "How do i know you speak the truth?".
The supreme ruler of Dreese, who is an accomplished and powerful spellcaster himself, then sourly adds "I can't very well tell, considering what you've got on you".
Dalin briefly grins at the mention of the spell gem he's got in one of his pockets, then he says "You'll just have to trust me".
The elven spy from the Southlands, then holds out is left hand, where the glint of the steel from a tiny needle like spike can be seen sticking out of the top of his sleeve of his cloak.
And he says to the supreme ruler of Dreese "There's an exact one in my right sleeve, and it's touching the prisoner as i hold his arm".
Dailn continues with "If i die, the instant acting poison on it will touch him, and kill him immediately".
The elf who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses of his homeland of Dreese then adds "And that's the truth".
The Sultan and his herald quickly share a look, then the supreme ruler of Dreese, who would like more than anything, to renege on the terms of the agreement with the foreign mercenaries, nods his head.
"Very well then" says the Sultan of Dreese, who though he doesn't want to say it, he adds "The terms of the deal shall be met" . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 52.

Summer. The Islands Of Dreese.

He's awake early, up well before dawn. Leaving the cabin he shares with another of the cadre of spellcasters that the Sultan of Dreese controls.
He heads up onto the deck of the flagship of the fleet, where a number of the crew are on duty.
He nods his head in greeting to some of them who acknowledge him. Though most ignore him, as they do the rest of the practitioners of magic that the supreme ruler of Dreese has under his control.
He makes his way forward along the deck of the large airship, then heads to the starboard rail.
He climbs over it, and down the cargo netting that's hanging over the side. Near the bottom of it, he hops down onto the sand of the beach, and looks around.
Then he heads north along the beach that's on the east side of the island on this, the west side of the channel that separates the two islands near the equator, at the very northern end of the chain of islands that are off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
As he walks on the sands of the beach in the murky gloom before dawn. Mira Reinholt the mage takes the hood of his cloak off his head and takes a deep breath through his nose.
Briefly closing his eyes as he does so. Enjoying the sensation of being a little bit under his own control. As it is whenever the Sultan of Dreese is sleeping.
It's the only time he and the other nearly thirty spellcasters who are under the control of the Sultan. Have some partial control, and normalcy in their lives.
There's a few others walking up and down the long beach. Which is empty apart from the Sultan's flagship.
The mage Reinholt even hears a couple of the others swimming in the waters off the beach.
The once powerful mage contemplates doing the same thing. But he has other things to do this early in the morning, before dawn.
The spellcaster who is from the city-state of Vexil, which is all the way on the otherside of the continent, faraway to the west in the Southlands.
Keeps walking north along the beach, and he soon leaves the last of the other spellcasters up early, behind him. When he passes a wizard sitting in the sand, staring off to the east, waiting for the sun to rise.
The exiled Vexilian mage, who just happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster. Slightly frowns as he peers through the gloom towards the north end of the beach.
Then he slightly nods his head, and makes his way up the beach, to where he's spotted someone sitting on a fallen palm tree just above the sands.
"Morning" quietly says Mira Reinholt the mage in the elven language as he sits down next to the tall figure in the gray hooded cloak.
"Morning mage" replies Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy in the same language.
The two of them are silent for a few moments as they look out over the beach to the channel between the two islands, as dawn will soon break over the island chain that lies off the coast of continent.
It's the spy Tanith who breaks the silence between them, when he quietly asks "How's things?".
"Alright at the moment" is the reply from the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
"Helps that, that fat asshole is asleep at the moment" dryly adds the mage Reinholt, who can still feel the Sultan of Dreese's control over him. But it's not as oppressive, and all powerful as it is when the Sultan is awake.
The elven spy form the principality of Alínlae, which is in the Southlands nods his hooded head, then falls silent again.
The swordmaster Reinholt doesn't mind the silence. He's just glad he's in the company of one of the group. At least for a little while, which is better than nothing.
Then the elf who is an officer in the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque breaks the silence again, as he quietly tells the Vexilian mage in exile "Something's going to happen this morning".
"Oh?" quietly says Mira Reinholt, who then asks "What?".
"You know i can't tell you" quietly says the elven spy who previously served in one of the more prominent noble houses of his homeland of Alínlae.
The once powerful mage who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque, grunts at that.
Then he raises an eyebrow, when Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, quietly tells him "Be ready for anything".
The spellcaster who was sent into exile from his homeland of Vexil, for betraying the city-state during a war, nods his head in response to that.
Then he lifts an eyebrow in surprise again, when the elf, who like him is from the Southlands, quietly says "Here, this is for you" and hands him something. It's a spell gem.
The mage Reinholt looks quickly around, before he looks closely at the small gem that Dalin has handed to him. The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, frowns as he looks at it.
"There's nothing in it" quietly states Mira Reinholt, who then adds "No spell, or power" as he carefully studies it in the gloom before dawn.
"There is" quietly says the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae.
The Vexilian mage in exile frowns again, then he says "If there is, he'll know I've got it because of that captured sprite he's got".
"He won't" quietly says Dalinvardél Tanith, who as the once powerful mage frowns again, he quietly tells him "Lord Farque had his sword do something to it" as he gestures at the spell gem in the hand of swordmaster Reinholt.
"Hell" quietly mutters Mira Reinholt, who then quickly pockets the small gem that's just been given to him.
Nodding his head, the spellcaster from the Southlands quietly asks "What does it do then?".
"I can't tell you that either" is the quiet reply from the spy Tanith.
"You can't tell me what's happening this morning" mutters the exiled Vexilian mage, who continues muttering with "You can't tell me what it does" as he gestures at the pocket in his black summer cloak he's just put the spell gem into.
The highly skilled swordmaster sighs in frustration, then after a deep breath, he asks the elven spy "So what can you tell me".
"Not much really" quietly says the elf from the Southlands, who continues with "Just that something will happen this morning, and you should use that gem when necessary".
The mage Reinholt just nods his head, as that's about all he can do since Dalin won't actually tell him anything specific about what to expect this morning.
Instead the member of lord Farque's personal council asks the spy Tanith "How did the battle go?" followed by "I assume we won".
The Vexilian mage in exile like everyone else onboard the Sultan's flagship was kept out of the battle. Due to a suggestion from lord Farque, which for once the Sultan of Dreese actually listened to.
The once powerful mage saw late yesterday afternoon as they approached the two islands that are separated by a channel. That only vessels in the Sultan's sea going fleet remained in the water between the two islands. And the Viceroy's fleet had been destroyed.
"We defeated them" quietly says Dalinvardél Tanith who continues on with "You'll hear more about it later on this morning".
The swordmaster Reinholt looks sharply at the elven spy sitting next to him, then nods his head.
The elf in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque then adds "The army is camped just a mile and half away to the north from here" followed by "A lot of the remaining ships are just off the coast from there too".
"So i saw, when we set down early yesterday evening" quietly says Mira Reinholt who looks south along the beach to where the Sultan's triple masted flagship is on the sands of the beach.
The Sultan himself is in the pavilion just up from the airship there. With his gaggle of concubines, and a few others. Those he most trust from his court.
While on the flagship is the rest of the court. And most of his cadre of spellcasters he has control of. Apart from those up early like the mage Reinholt, who are wandering up and down the beach, or in the water this morning.
The spy Tanith nods his hooded head to the east, then quietly says to the once powerful mage "The sun's about to come up".
The Vexilian mage in exile looks that way too, and after a little while he sees the first glow of dawn start to appear on the horizon to the east.
"Hopefully he drank too much last night, and wakes up late today" quietly says Mira Reinholt who always likes it when the Sultan of Dreese wakes up late. As that gives a little more time to himself, and a sense of normalcy that will disappear when the Sultan takes over full control of him again.
"That would be useful" murmurs Dalin so quietly that the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil doesn't hear him.
Then the elven spy who previously served in one of the more prominent noble houses of his homeland of Alínlae, nods in the direction of the Sultan's flagship and quietly says "Some of the others are up".
Councillor Reinholt looks down the beach to where the large airship sits upon the white sands, and sees a number of the other spellcasters in the cadre controlled by the supreme ruler of Dreese, are now up and about.
And as the first rays of sunshine start to come up over the island on the otherside of the channel, and hit the water between the two islands.
The exiled Vexilian mage sees that a number of the Sultan's personal guards are now up as well.
Dalinvardél Tanith who has seen this too, quietly asks the highly skilled swordmaster "How many of his guards stayed with him instead of going into battle?".
The mage Reinholt slightly frowns as he tries to remember, then he quietly says "About fifty or so i guess" followed by "His dozen bodyguards, and about forty others".
The spy Tanith slightly nods his hooded head, then quietly says "No reason really" in response to the highly skilled swordmaster asking him "Why do you want to know?".
Dalin looks at the Sultan's pavilion, where he sees a few people entering and leaving it as the sun begins to rise on what looks like it will be another warm tropical summer's day here, near the equator at the northern end of the island chain that's off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
The elven spy from the Southlands spots a few of the members of court have just come out of the large pavilion just up from the flagship, one of whom he recognises as the Sultan's herald.
The mage Reinholt has seen the thin, skeletal looking figure of the herald too, and sourly mutters "He'll be awake soon" the member of lord Farque personal council then adds "He always wakes just after his mouthpiece gets up".
The spy Tanith nods and gets up off the fallen palm tree as the Vexilian swordmaster does.
"I better get back" quietly says Mira Reinholt.
Dalinvardél Tanith nods his hooded head then quietly tells the spellcaster from the Southlands "Remember, use that spell gem when you think it's the right time".
"And when will the right time be?" quietly asks the mage who no longer has the vast amount of power he once had when he was a younger man.
"You'll know when" is the quiet reply from the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae.
The mage Reinholt faintly smiles, then turns and heads back along the beach.
"I hope" Dalin murmurs to himself as he watches Mira Reinholt walk down the beach as dawn breaks over the island chain that's part of the Sultanate of Dreese.
The spy Tanith watches the Vexilian mage in exile lift the hood of his cloak up onto his head.
Just after he does, the elf from the Southlands sees councillor Reinholt slightly stumble, then stiffen after he regathers himself. The elven spy slightly grimaces as he knows the Sultan of Dreese is awake, and has taken full control of the cadre of spellcasters, who he has control of.
Dalinvardél Tanith sees a wizard sitting on the beach, fall onto his side, before quickly sitting upright, then hoping to his feet.
He spots a practitioner of magic stumble from the water, before jerking to a stop. Then turn and walk purposefully back towards the flagship.
He sees a woman, what type of spellcaster she is, he has no idea. But she was wandering up and down the beach. Then she fell flat on her face. Before standing back upright, turn then walk back to the large triple masted airship.
Before she turned, the elven spy who is an officer in the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque. Clearly saw the dull, almost dead look in her eyes before she marched back to the Sultan's flagship.
"Hell" mutters Dalin, who then murmurs "By the forest gods" as he thumbs the spell gem in one of the pockets in his own cloak.
It's a gem he always has on him, especially when he gets close to wherever the Sultan of Dreese is.
The elf from the Southlands continues to watch the mage Reinholt, watching him all the way back to the Sultan's flagship. Once the exiled Vexilian mage is onboard. Dalin turns and goes north, heading back to the camp that's about a mile and a half away. The spy Tanith will return to this beach shortly. Though with him, will be a number of others.
Meanwhile, onboard the large triple masted airship that serves as the Sultan of Dreese's flagship.
Mira Reinholt the mage stands at the port rail in a midships with a few others in the cadre of spellcasters who are controlled by the Sultan of Dreese.
They're all looking at the pavilion that's just up from the flagship of the supreme ruler of Dreese.
All with a dead eyed look as they watch people enter and leave the large pavilion that the Sultan lives in while they're on campaign.
As the sun starts to rise in the sky to the east, they watch a few of the court outside the pavilion discussing something.
And a short while later, the front of the pavilion is opened by servants. And a few of the Sultan's concubines wander outside.
The mage Reinholt knows the Sultan is awake, for the simple reason he can't do whatever he wants to do now.
He like the other spellcaster who have been enthralled by the Sultan of Dreese. Wait silently for his appearance this morning.
And it's not too long before a number of the Sultan's personal guards are standing at the front of the pavilion.
A few moments later, and a yawning Sultan of Dreese walks from his pavilion.
As he does, Mira Reinholt unconsciously puts a hand in one of his pockets. And thumbs a small gem that's in it.
And as he and the others onboard the flagship watch the Sultan discuss something with some of the members of his court,
The once powerful mage, in the very depths of his mind, knows that he has to do something this morning with the small gem he's got.
Exactly what, he's not too sure. Just that he'll know when to do it, when the occasion arises this morning . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 51.

Summer. The Sultanate Of Dreese.

The camp they've made is about halfway up the east coast of the island. On a clear bit of open ground between a beach, and some scrub, which quickly turns into a tropical forest, which covers a lot of the interior of the island on this side of the channel. As it does on the island on the otherside of the channel. Here near the equator at the very northern end of the chain of islands off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
The victorious army of the Sultan of Dreese are still coming into camp well into the night. As the enemy forces on the island have been defeated, or so it seems.
At one end of the camp, the opposite end from where the airships have put down, stands the command tent.
Which in a camp that's just won a hard fought battle, is guarded. Which isn't something you'd expect. As it hasn't been guarded at any other time in the campaign, here in the island chain that makes up part of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Some of the soldiers, sailors, and personal guards to the Sultan at this end of the camp wonder why the command tent is guarded this night.
For they saw a prisoner brought in a little earlier, who was taken into the tent, considering what prisoners there are have been placed in rudimentary pens towards the other end of camp.
They don't know the prisoner. But word will soon spread throughout the camp, as the crew of the airship that brought the prisoner in. Will certainly tell who was bought into camp from a beach at the northeast tip of the island.
The Viceroy of Dreese as he sits upon a camp chair, briefly closes his eyes, then opens them and looks to his left and says "I know you don't i?".
"Yes highness i suppose you do" says Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit who is sitting in the camp chair next to the Viceroy, here in the main part of the lamp lit command tent.
The back part of the tent is open to allow the breeze in this night as the sounds of the camp, and from the ships just out from the beach can be heard.
"I served in the airfleet of Dreese until a little while ago" adds the halfling from the mainland of Dreese, who gestures at the others in the main compartment of the tent as he continues with "Until i joined this lot".
"I thought you looked familiar" says the local nobleman who is a prisoner of a small group of foreign mercenaries, who include a halfling former air sailor from the mainland of the Sultanate.
"What ship did you serve on?" asks the younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese, who is relaxing after having something to eat and drink.
The hobbit, who is infact really a hordes 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.
Vaguely recalls the name of the airship he last served on, and tells the Viceroy of it.
"Destroyed in a battle, not that long ago actually" adds Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian the hordesman, who goes on to tell the local nobleman of the battle in question.
The Viceroy nods his head as he listens, then he quietly says "I'd always liked that ship" followed by "Sorry that my men shot it down".
The hobbit from the mainland of Dreese nods and says "It happens". Then he along with the Viceroy, and the others in the tent look up as lord Farque enters.
The group are all in the command tent now, with the exception of Helbe the elven thief, who has gone elsewhere after the prisoner was brought into camp.
The undead warlord who effectively is in command of the Sultan of Dreese's forces in the war against the Viceroy.
Sits down on the only bench in the tent, which is next to the table to the left of where Jarjin Littlefoot and the Viceroy of Dreese are sitting on a couple of the camp chairs.
While Tovis is sitting on another chair nearby, eating from a plate of food. As Beldane the cleric is sitting on the carpet, going through his equipment. And Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy is lying in a corner of the tent, where it's open along the back of it. Where there's no guards on that side of the command tent. As they're around the other three sides of it.
"Your brother is on the island" says lord Farque to the prisoner the Viceroy of Dreese.
"So I've been told" says the local nobleman with a nod to Jarjin Littlefoot sitting beside him.
"He's on his flagship as usual" says the undead warlord who continues with "On another beach about a mile and a half south of camp".
The younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese nods his head, then asks "Will you take me to him now?". As that was more or less the plan, for him to be taken to his older brother after he was taken prisoner, so to speak. Considering he was actually taken prisoner quite a few days ago.
"It can wait until first thing in the morning" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who then gestures around indicating the camp they're in, as he adds "By then the entire camp will know you've been taken prisoner and brought in".
The local nobleman, who happens to be a spellcaster, who at this moment is unable to touch his magic, nods his head to that, then quietly asks "Do you want that?".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his nation, which is all the way on the otherside of the continent in the Southlands.
Nods his full helmed head and tells the younger brother of the supreme ruler of Dreese "I do".
The lord of the death realm continues with "The more who know, the better".
The local nobleman wonders why, but he figures it has something to do with their plans for him to kill his older brother the Sultan of Dreese.
The eyebrows of the Viceroy lift when the halfling on the chair next to him asks the foreign mercenary called the lord "How many of those he sent into battle were killed do you think?".
And the large figure in the dark blue, black heavy plate armour sitting at the table replies with "Well over half, more than two, thirds I'd say, nearly three quarters".
Seeing the reaction from the local nobleman, the deathlord of Farque says to him "Your brother's personal guards".
"He sent the entire battalion into battle?" asks the younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese.
"Almost" is the reply of the lord of the death realm, who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means, The Destroyer.
"Just his bodyguards on his flagship didn't go into battle" continues the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"He's not going to like that" quietly says the local nobleman who is part of the family that's ruled the Sultanate of Dreese for a number of generations.
"I know" says Draugadrottin, while next to the Viceroy, the halfling Jarjin Littlefoot grins. While Tovis the war engineer who has just finished eating, and has got himself a drink from the side table before sitting back down, smiles.
"I told him he was bound to have heavy losses in this battle" says the undead being from the Southlands, who then dryly adds "Well, i told that fucking herald of his that he would".
The Viceroy nods, as he's been told by his captors that the lord and some of the other foreign mercenaries aren't allowed within a hundred yards of the Sultan of Dreese. If they do, then one of their number, a mage who is under the direct control of the Sultan will be killed.
"So he'll be expecting heavy losses across his army, navy and airfleet" says the undead warlord, who momentarily pauses before he continues on with "Though he might not be expecting how many of his own battalion has been wiped out here".
"Such a pity" murmurs Jarjin Littlefoot with a snort, which causes the prisoner on the camp chair beside him to faintly smile.
"Tovis" says lord Farque, who nods his full helmed head in the direction of the flap at the front of the command tent.
The young engineer from the kingdom of Druvic gets up and makes his way to the tent flap, as he does, one of the soldiers outside guarding the tent, calls out to those inside "Sir, a messenger".
The war engineer who is a captain in the armies of Farque steps outside and speaks to the messenger, who turns out to be an officer in the Sultan's army.
After speaking to him, Tovis the war engineer reenters the command tent and quietly says "The Sultan's personal guards have started to execute some of the prisoners".
Lord Farque who heard the conversation between the young engineer and the officer outside, nods his full helmed head.
While the Viceroy of Dreese grimaces at hearing that some of his men who have been taken prisoner, are now being executed by his older brother's personal guards.
The local spellcaster mutters "They should of been all wiped out". Referring to the Sultan's personal guards who went into battle here near the equator, at the very northern end of the chain of islands that lie off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
"That would make things a hell of a lot easier i guess" says Des'tier, who then slightly shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders, and adds "But not everything goes as you hope they will".
The Viceroy of Dreese slightly winces at that, as it reminds him what he's to do when he's brought before his older brother, the Sultan who is the supreme ruler of Dreese.
The local nobleman who has been trying not to think too much of what's expected of him when he finally faces his brother the Sultan.
Looks at his captors, who took him prisoner on a tiny island further to the southwest in the chain of them, that makes up part of the Sultanate of Dreese.
They all look to be relaxed this night, not caring too much of what's happened during the battle, and what's happening now in camp.
Even the youngest of them, the engineer. Is relaxed as he sits there in a camp chair, gazing out through the opening in the back of the tent. Which looks out to the north end of the beach, and the water as the shore curves inwards as it continues northwards.
Moonlight from two of the moons is reflecting off the surface of the water in the channel between the two islands here near the equator.
Looking at the prisoner beside him, Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit quietly asks "Nervous?".
"With the plans?" says the Viceroy, the halfling from the mainland of Dreese nods his head yes.
"A little bit to be honest" says the local spellcaster, who hopes like hell his magic will return to him early tomorrow morning when it's needed.
The younger brother of the Sultan looks at the hobbit sitting next to him, then at the tall, heavily armoured figure sitting on the bench at the table "Should we go over those plans again". As he's been told them in detail by the elven mercenary who isn't here at the moment.
"Do you know them?" asks lord Farque.
"I do" is the reply of the local nobleman.
"Then we don't have to go over them" says the undead warlord who is opening a chest beside the table, and taking something out of it.
The Viceroy of Dreese, well former Viceroy to me exact, as his older brother the Sultan has stripped him off that position. Faintly smiles as he sees that it's a Shāh board the heavily armoured foreign mercenary has taken from the chest and put out on the table. He then takes a wooden inlay box from the chest, in which are the Shāh pieces. Which he puts onto the corresponding squares on the board.
As he does, the deathlord of Farque looks at the local nobleman, then nods for him to join him at the table.
The Viceroy gets up, picks up his chair, and carries it to the table. Where he puts it down opposite the foreign mercenary called both the lord and the dead man by the Sultan's forces.
They play late into the night. Quite a few games. None of which the local spellcaster wins. Even though both Beldane the cleric and Jarjin Littlefoot offer the Viceroy advice. Which he takes, as they can't be any worse than him at Shāh.
Occasionally Tovis the war engineer chimes in with a suggestion for moves. Which prove to be the best help. For though the local nobleman still doesn't win. Whenever the young engineer from the kingdom of Druvic makes a suggestion of what piece to move where.
The Viceroy is more competitive, and doesn't lose as quickly as normal. Which he's appreciative of.
Eventually the younger brother to the Sultan of Dreese goes to sleep sometime after midnight.
He's followed by Tovis, Beldane and Jarjin. All of whom sleep on the carpet floor of the tent, that has a number of cushions on it.
Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy fell asleep earlier. Or so it seems, for in the middle of the night as he lies in a corner near the back of the tent where it's open.
He slightly moves, then returns one of his dangers to it's sheath, when he hears the familiar voice of Helbe the elven thief quietly say in the language of their race "It's only me".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, which is just off the coast of the Southlands, appears just outside, then steps into the command tent, that has a just single lamp lit in it at the moment.
The elven magic user walks across the main part of the tent, careful not to wake those who are asleep, who include the prisoner, the Viceroy of Dreese.
The elven masterthief gets to the part of the tent that's partitioned off from the rest of it, and hears lord Farque quietly in the royal elven language from within it, say "Enter".
In the section of the tent that's partitioned off from the rest of it, the undead warlord quietly says to the elven master assassin who is a member of his personal council "Well?".
"They'll do it" is the reply from the young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel.
The elven master archer who is conversing in the language of the elven royalty, continues with "Though they didn't believe me at first, until i had to say, encourage them to do so".
Des'tier slightly nods his full helmed head as he sits upon the bench that he brought in from the main part of the command tent.
The elven princeling from the Southlands hikes a thumb back in the direction of the otherside of the partition, and he asks "How was he tonight?" followed by "Nervous?".
"A little" is the reply of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who pauses for a few moments, before he continues with "He should be fine first thing in the morning".
"Let us hope so" quietly says Helbe the elven thief with a slight nod of his hooded head as he knows their plans for the morning are sound. And have a fair chance of being successful if things go their way . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 50.

Summer. Gilsom & The Coast Of The Southlands.

"Well the port authority isn't saying they're pirates, but they're also not denying the fact that they might be" says Lisell Maera the messenger who along with the Shur Kee the monk has just made their way back to the others.
"And of course they didn't have a cargo manifest of any kind, or a set destination once they left port" adds the attractive young woman who hails from the city-state of Brattonbury.
"Figures" sourly says Tamric Drubine the field commander, next to him, sir Percavelle Lé Dic grunts in agreement, then loudly mutters "Not very sporting, wot".
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, then looks over at Saanea the witch, and asks her "They still going south?".
"They are" is the reply of Saanea the witch who is the newest member of the group.
The young field commander nods, then quietly says "At least that's something".
Then the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who is now a senior officer in the armies of Farque, looks at Lisell Maera who asks him "Were you able to get one?".
"We did" is the reply of field commander Drubine who continues with "It'll go down the coast for a bit, before heading inland" he briefly pauses before adding "Though it doesn't leave for a little while longer".
Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by the others in the group, slightly winces when she hears that, then she sighs at the predicament they're in.
It's morning, and they're on the harbourside of the port town of Gilsom.
They thought it best not to go back through the small mountain to the inland side of Gilsom. For the simple reason people might connect them with what happened in the shipyards of Gilsom last night.
And the fact that word has started to spread that a number of murders happened last night.
Where several dwarves were killed in the township on the otherside of the small mountain that's right here on the coast, here in the hill range called The Cascades.
The reason for those murders is sitting on the ground next to the building of the shipping agent's the others are standing infront of this morning.
Dorc da Orc is in the shade, enjoying the breeze coming off the harbour, on what's a significantly cooler morning compared to recent days this summer along the coast of the Southlands.
The large ork is sipping from a barrel of ale, trying to keep a low profile. Well, as low a profile as possible for a seven and a half foot tall, seven hundred and fifty pound, green killer of dwarves.
The ork warleader is all but ignoring the others. As all of them are at least a little annoyed with him for taking off last night when they needed him.
For Dorkindle, chasing down those who they've been after since leaving the Maldin Hills, is fine and all.
But to him, the killing of dwarves is much more important. He's still a bit pissed off that he didn't kill more of them last night in the township on the otherside of the small mountain, within which is the town of Gilsom proper.
Here in the port itself, Tamric Drubine looks out at the crescent shaped harbour, and all the ships that are coming into dock, or leaving the harbour.
There's vessels of all descriptions coming and going from Gilsom. From small fishing skiffs, to massive triple masted merchant vessels, some of which are bound for the nation of Nors, which is all the way across the Great Western Ocean.
The nobleborn teenager who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, a castle that's located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Looks to the northern point of the crescent shaped harbour. There sits the circular airdock that's in the port.
The only airdock on this side of the small mountain. As all the other airdocks, as well as the airship building yards. Are on the inland side of the small mountain, where all the expansion has happened over the last twenty years here in Gilsom.
Out of the three airships at the raised, circular dock. He sees the one he's paid a small fortune for them to get on as passengers, that will take them down the coast for a bit as they continue their pursuit of those they've been after since quickly leaving the Maldin Hills.
The young field commander then asks Lis "Were you able to find out anything?".
"Just that the merchant Sharnd occasionally does business here" is the reply of the messenger who is part of the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque.
"The port authorities didn't want to give anymore information than they had to" adds the attractive young woman who is originally from further north along the coast, where the city-state of Brattonbury is located over fifteen hundred miles away.
"Same here" says field commander Drubine hiking a thumb at the shipping agent's building behind them.
"Though they did tell me he's from a town in the lowlands on this side of the Maldin Hills" adds the nobleborn teenager who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque.
"That's something at least" quietly says Lisell Maera, who continues with "You never know" she briefly pauses before adding "That might come in handy one day".
Nodding his head, Tam quietly says in the elven language to the messenger "I hope so".
Shur Kee the monk and sir Percavelle Lé Dic sit down on the bench seat infront of the offices of the shipping agent that field commander Drubine has just dealt with.
While Lis after glancing to where Dorc da Orc is sitting to the side of the building, wanders down to the dock that's right infront of the shipping agent's building.
The witch Saanea is already there, standing at the land end of the dock, with her eyes closed as she watches what her familiar is looking at, down the coast from the port town of Gilsom.
Tamric Drubine after looking towards the pretty looking hillwoman down at the dock.
Turns and walks by the former paladin, and the short statured monk sitting on the bench infront of the shipping agent's offices.
The young field commander, who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque makes his way around to the side of the building, where Dorc da Orc is sitting in the shade, sipping from a barrel of ale.
The nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin crouches down near the large ork, though not too close as the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world absolutely reeks at the moment.
What with it being the middle of summer, and it's been a while since he's been rained on. Which is about the only time he has a wash, unless he happens to fall into a body of water somewhere. Which he definitely does his best to avoid.
The ork general grunts when Tam quietly says to him "That annoyed me more than you realise last night when you took off like that".
The ork weaponsmith continues to sip from the barrel of ale, and not look at the young field commander as Tam quietly tells him "I could of done with you and your sense of smell to follow after that lot when they went through the tunnels".
The nobleborn teen who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, then quietly adds after a brief pause "But no, you had to go and kill some poor dwarves".
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grins, and guffaws at the mention of the dwarves he killed in the township last night.
Field commander Drubine slightly shakes his head, then even though technically general Dorc is a superior officer to him in the armies of Farque, he tells the ork warleader "I'll have to inform the lord when we finally see him, of your disregard of my orders last night" Tam continues with "I'm sure he'll find a suitable punishment for you".
With an angry looking scowl upon his broad, green, brutish looking face, Dorc da Orc says "Why you gotta go and do that for cunt?".
The large ork, who to be honest, rather hopes they never find the rest of the group again. For the simple reason he hates getting his lights punched out by lord Farque whenever he apparently does something wrong. Apparently to him, but pretty obvious to everyone else.
Shakes his head in disgust, and says "The little fucken freaks deserves it" he continues in his deep, growling voice with "They needs to be fucken wiped out to makes the world a better place, and Dorc is the man to do it, me mean ork to do it".
The big burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world sees the young field commander Drubine roll his eyes at what he just said.
Dorkindle snorts and says "Me fucken knows you since you was a lil' humanling" the general in the armies of Farque follows that with "You know how me hates them fucken midget cunts" he then adds "More than the cunt sun, and yucky fucken water".
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then says "So you knows what Dorc gonna fucken do if any of them short little fucken hairy cunts are around".
Tamric Drubine already knows this, and not caring about the excuses given to him by the large ork, he tells him "I don't care Dorc" followed by "You disobeyed my orders in what's effectively a time of war".
The young field commander doesn't mention that the big, burly ork as a general is actually one of his superior officers. It helps that Dorkindle often completely forgets his position in the armies of Farque.
"For that I'll inform lord Farque when we next see him" adds the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
The ork warleader grimaces at the prospect at that. Though he's of the opinion, based on past experiences. That it might be a long time before they ever see lord Farque and the rest of the group again. That's if they ever see that lot again.
Dorc da Orc even mutters that in the ork language. Then he grunts, while the young field commander turns his head, when from around the front of the building, sir Percavelle Lé Dic calls out "Young Tam, they've started loading that airship".
"Come on" says Tamric Drubine to the ork weaponsmith "We can board it now" adds the nobleborn teen who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque.
Dorkindle who rather hopes Tam forgets about what they were just discussing. Grunts and gets up off the ground, and follows the young field commander to around the front of the building.
Where the group heads off to the north end of the crescent shaped harbour, to the airship that will soon leave the port town of Gilsom.
Meanwhile, further south down the coast of the Southlands. A brig, which is essentially a coastal raider. Has moved out to more open water, to pick up speed as it heads south down the coast.
As the rather dark, and scruffy looking twin masted ship, that's rigged for as much speed as possible.
Heads out into deeper water to try and catch the breeze out there, on what's a cooler summer morning, than it has been of late.
Brossic the lowland mercenary slightly shakes his head as he looks around at the state of the ship and it's crew. It's something he's done a number of times since coming onboard last night, when they left the port town of Gilsom in rather a hurry.
Though no expert on ships, especially sea going ships compared to airships. Brossic can see that for all the wonky looking rigging, and disheveled and tatty looking crew.
That the ship itself, and those who crew it. Are actually a well disciplined crew, who follow the orders of the officers and captain without question.
More so than any merchant vessel that the lowlander mercenary has ever traveled on before.
Infact Brossic wonders if they once belonged to a nation's navy before they took up the sea going trade.
Though trade is only part of what they do. It's fairly obvious they partake in a bit of piracy when it suits them.
But not at the moment, as they've been hired by Brossic and the others who have plans to create their own nation up in the Maldin Hills.
Brossic turns and sees Grunna the sorcerer make his way up on deck. Up forward of a midships, both the mercenaries Spranen and Halnard. Along with some of the other mercenaries they've hired, are playing a game of cards against some of the crew who aren't on duty at the moment.
As he stands just below the stern deck, Brossic is joined by Grunna the sorcerer who quietly says "He's still fucked off as you can imagine".
In response to Brossic the lowland mercenary quietly asking him "How's he doing?".
Brossic the crew leader of those who plans to carve out their own nation in the Maldin Hills, grunts then murmurs "I can well imagine".
For he too is still more than annoyed at the loss of their airship, which belonged to Sharnd the flatland merchant.
Brossic nods over to his left, and the two of them wander over to the port rail, where they look towards the shore as they head south down the coast of the Southlands.
As he glances to aft, to where a flock of seagulls is following the brig, as the ship's cook is throwing scraps overboard.
Grunna the sorcerer quietly says "So" he briefly pauses before he continues with "What do we do then?".
As they haven't really discussed their plans since leaving the port town of Gilsom last night.
Just that onboard, they've got all of those who they had already hired. As well as most of the latest batch of mercenaries they hired in Gilsom. Along with the crew of the brig they're on as they head south, just off from the coast.
"Nothing's changed" quietly says the leader of the crew of mercenaries, who follows that with "We'll continue on as we've planned, and head inland to the Maldin Hills".
Brossic momentarily pauses, before he continues on with "We'll just take longer to get there now".
He then asks the spellcaster from further south along the coast "Can either one of those two cast a rift?". Referring to the wizard and magic user who are amongst those they hired in the port town of Gilsom.
"No" is the reply from Grunna, who then adds "And even they did, neither one has ever been up to the Maldin Hills, so it wouldn't matter".
The crew leader nods his head, then says "Definitely take longer to get there then".
The spellcaster from further south along the coast grunts in agreement with that, as the brig cuts through the water with efficiency as they catch an offshore breeze.
Then the two of them see Halnard and Spranen leave the game of cards being played infront of a midships. And make their way aft to where the two of them are standing at the port rail.
"What are you two taking about?" asks Spranen the mercenary when he and Halnard join Brossic and Grunna at the port rail.
It's basically the same thing Sharnd the mercenary asks a few moments later, when he comes up on deck, and joins the others in the small group who have plans to create their own nation up in the Maldin Hill range.
"How we're going to continue on with our plans, that's what" quietly says Brossic the mercenary, in a quiet and determined tone of voice.
The others all nod, even the rather disappointed and dejected looking Sharnd the merchant, who still can't believe that his airship has been destroyed.
"This might be a bit of setback" quietly says the crew leader, who continues on with "But i tell you, nothing is going to stop us and our plans".
"Here, here" states Grunna the sorcerer, which is echoed by the others, including the flatland merchant, Sharnd.
As they look to the shore, and on a day like today, where it's cooler than most summer days, and the sky is clear and blue with no clouds above.
They can see in the distance, the faint smudge that is the Maldin Hills. Which is at least forty miles in from the coast of the Southlands.
Nodding in the direction of the Maldin Hill range, Brossic the lowlander quietly says in a determined tone of voice "We're going back there" followed by "To make our own nation".
Whilst amongst the flock of seagulls trailing the brig as it continues southwards. One of the seagulls is not a seagull. And is actually a witch's familiar. Which is watching and listening to what's going on down on the ship below . . . . . .