Mercenary Tales 45.

Vexil. 

"I'm not sure" says Beldane the cleric with a rub of his chin, who continues with "I'm not sure what else we could try". 

Lord Farque just nods his full helmed head to that, and does so again when the powerful cleric in the church of Glaine adds "That mage Fendal has no associates who deal with them". 

The fighting cleric pauses for a moment, before continuing with "Unless there was something I didn't get from reading his mind?". 

Beldane is quiet for a moment, before he says "I guess we could get him again, and see if there's anything I didn't find out". 

"That's a dead end with him" says Lord Farque who sits across from the cleric in the half plate armour. 

"We've got all the information we can from him" continues the undead warlord, who follows that with "Same with that scrivener we questioned too". 

The member of the church of Glaine nods at that, then the two of them fall silent as the serving woman comes over, and places their order down in front of them. 

It's mid morning, and they're in a pâtisserie and wine shop in the east of the city of Vexil. Much to the delight of Dorc da Orc, who is sitting on the floor to the right of Lord Farque. 

The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, is eating pretty much every type of pastry, biscuit and cake that the shop sells. 

Not to mention most of the different types of wine they have for sale too. And though the shop owner was aghast at the large ork entering his establishment. 

He sure changed his mind when the ork warleader plopped down a large handful of gold coins on the counter, and told him to bring everything they've got. 

While Beldane has a slice of chocolate cake to go with his glass of dark red wine. And Lord Farque has a goblet of elderberry liqueur, which he sparingly drinks, by turning his head to look into the corner to his left, before lifting the visor of his full helm, so that no one can see him. 

Glancing at Dorc on the floor next to the table they're seated at, Beldane the cleric wryly says "For someone who sure hates fruit, he's doing a good job of stuffing a lot of it is his mouth at the moment". 

The large ork is currently shoving pastries stuffed with sweet fruit and nuts into his gob. He's covered with bits of the flaky pastry at the moment. Over his face, and down his front, as he gobbles sweet pastries one after another. 

"As long as it's sweet and comes by way of pastry or cake, he really doesn't give a shit" says Lord Farque who knows that not just Dorc, but all orks have an extremely sweet tooth. 

As there's nothing in their homeland that's remotely sweet to eat. And that those few of their kind, that actually venture beyond the southern polar region of the world. Once they get a taste of anything sweet, they'll eat it whenever they can. 

"Like all of his kind" says the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque, who like the fighting cleric, is speaking in elvish, continues in a dry tone with "They can get rather selective about what they hate and like". 

Beldane nods his head in agreement to that, as he has observed that about Dorc da Orc in the years that he has been part of the group. 

Then going back to the topic they were discussing earlier, the cleric who hails from the kingdom of Nastell says "I guess we'll just have to look around and try our luck". 

The lord of the death realm who has the name of Draugodrottin that the people of his lands also know him by, nods in agreement with that from the powerful practitioner of magic. 

That's why they're here in the east of the city, as there's quite a number of elves who live in this part of the capital of the city-state of Vexil. 

With a grove of ancient trees in this part of the city, that is of interest to many of the elves who live or visit the city of Vexil.

Though there's one particular elf they're looking for, who is part of the group that they're searching for, a group which is led by Misa Geist. The person that they're after. 

"Anything?" quietly asks Beldane the cleric, who doesn't ask too often, as he knows it'll piss off the undead warlord. 

The deathlord of Farque shakes his head no, and replies with "Nothing" he follows that with "None of them are here in the city at the moment". 

With another rub of his chin after he finishes his piece of cake, the fighting cleric says "Hmmm wonder if they're back up north?" followed by "Or somewhere else?". 

"Probably" says the undead warlord who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to The Destroyer. 

"Since with all the turmoil and chaos they're trying to create between Vexil and Girdane, I expect them to show up again here fairly soon" continues the large heavily armoured deathlord of Farque. 

"Especially since they were briefly up north in the hill country just before we went back" adds the lord of the death realm. 

Beldane nods to that, then the powerful cleric in the church of Glaine quietly asks the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque "Girdane?". 

"It's what I'm thinking" is the reply from Draugodrottin, who follows that with "Up there causing fucking mischief no doubt". 

The undead being, then continues with "Probably in the capital Oaklynn" he then adds "It seems the logical thing to do". 

"Huh?" murmurs the fighting cleric originally from the kingdom of Nastell, who continues on with "I wouldn't ordinarily call elves logical". 

"That's because you've only been around two elves for any length of time" dryly says Des'tier, who follows on from that with "The royal thief, who is fucking erratic to say the least". 

Beldane nods his head in agreement with that assessment of prince Helbenthril Raendril aka Helbe the elven thief. 

"Dalin is almost as young that pointy eared thief" says the large figure in the dark blue and black heavy plate armour. 

"And can be just as erratic at times" adds the large heavily armoured deathlord of Farque, who continues in a dry tone with "Trust me, pretty much all elves are logical, you have to be when you live that long". 

The fighting cleric nods his head, then the undead warlord tells him "And the logical thing to do, is to travel between the cities of Vexil and Girdane causing chaos as best as they can". 

Draugodrottin briefly pauses, before continuing on with "It's what I would do" followed by "With whatever the fuck they're up to". 

The powerful practitioner of magic nods, then he along with the lord of the death realm fall silent as the serving woman, and the shop owner make their way over. 

They're carrying more food for Dorc da Orc, who called out for more yummy grub a little while ago. 

Back in the kitchen, the chef and his two assistants are busy cooking up a storm. As the large ork is pretty much eaten everything they would normally sell in a day. 

The proprietor has already turned away other customers, in fact he's not letting anyone else in, for the simple reason the large ork has paid more in the short time he and Lord Farque and Beldane the cleric have been in here. 

Than the shop would make during the busiest week of the year, which is usually during one of the festival weeks. 

"This is good fucken shit" says Dorc da Orc to the two at the table, just before he starts stuffing cream filled pastries into his mouth. 

The one bonus about being a place like this, is that the large ork is pretty much silent, and is keeping out of trouble. As he's busy eating and drinking, and hasn't got much time to do anything else. 

"We'll head out soon, and scour this part of the city" says the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque when he and the fighting cleric resume their conversation. 

The undead warlord who has just finished his small goblet of liqueur, continues with "Hopefully something pops up". 

The deathlord of Farque is just about to say something else, when he suddenly falls silent. Beldane notices this, and goes to say something. 

But he remains silent when Des'tier holds up a gauntleted hand. 

Lord Farque who has been continually sensing in all directions, as far as he can, then quietly tells the powerful cleric in the church of Glaine "Rift". 

Draugodrottin briefly pauses, before continuing with with "It's her". He's silent for a few more moments, then he adds "It's them, they're in the city". 

They get up, and the undead warlord says in orkish to Dorc da Orc "Come on cunt, we're fucking going". 

The large ork, who is the middle of stuffing a whole chocolate cake into his mouth all in one go, eyes bulge as he looks at the other two. 

Then as Beldane and Lord Farque head for the front door of the shop, and after Des'tier tells the ork warleader to hurry the fuck up again. 

The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world who has been able to get the cake he was devouring down his gullet, calls out for a large box so he take as much with what's left with him. 

A short while later, and the ork weaponsmith exits the patisserie and wine shop with a box full of sweet pastries, biscuits and cake. While one of his sacks clanks with bottles of wine. 

Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name, hurries up the street, after the large heavily armoured deathlord, and the fighting cleric in the half plate armour. 

Sensing, and hearing Dorc da Orc quickly approaching them from behind, Lord Farque says "Just south of city center". In response to Beldane the cleric asking him "Where are they?". 

"Wish I could sense that elf" mutters the powerful cleric in the church of Glaine as he walks alongside the large figure of the deathlord of Farque. 

"Sense for the wizard with them" says Draugodrottin, who follows that with "He's moderately powerful, especially for a wizard". 

The undead warlord points, then adds "That way, in a straight line, a mile and a half away, continuing south" the lord of the death realm "You'll locate him". 

There's a lot of practitioners of magic in the city of Vexil, in fact there's more spellcasters in the city, than anywhere else in the Southlands, in fact the entire world. For the simple reason the Mage College of Vexil is here. 

And locating other practitioners of magic by sensing them can more than a little bit difficult. But with the specific directions given to him by Lord Farque, Beldane soon senses the wizard in question. 

"Got him" quietly says the fighting cleric, as behind them Dorc da Orc has resumed eating pastries, and drinking wine as he follows them. 

Both the deathlord of Farque and the cleric in the church of Glaine are looking up for a suitable spot, finding one, Des'tier nods to it, and says "There". 

They turn right onto the next street, and head for a three storey building, in the alleyway behind it, Beldane levitates to the roof. 

While lord Farque, who grabs Dorc da Orc by the left arm, and leaps to the rooftop, on what's a blustery winter's morning here in the city of Vexil. 

As the large ork scowls as he almost dropped the chunk of cake he was just about to eat when the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque jumped up here with him. 

The lord of the death realm and the cleric in the church of Glaine look away to the southwest, and before Beldane can ask Draugodrottin, where exactly?

The large, heavily armoured deathlord quietly says "Huh?" followed by "That's odd". Which causes the fighting cleric to lift his eyebrows in a questioning manner. 

"They're in a square with a number of churches and temples" quietly says Des'tier, who can't see their quarry at the moment, but he can definitely sense them. 

Now that does surprise Beldane, and what surprises them even more, is when Lord Farque tells him "They've just entered a church". 

"That is odd" murmurs the powerful practitioner of magic, as nothing in the behaviour of those they're after, indicate anything to do with a church or temple. "Wonder what they're up to?" asks the cleric in the church of Glaine. 

With a look at Beldane, then at Dorc da Orc, Lord Farque says to the two of them as they stand upon a rooftop of a three storey building "Let's find out" . . . . . . 

Mercenary Tales 44.

Oaklynn, Girdane. 

"I'm telling you it's the only possible explanation" says a heated wizard Margin, who follows that with "I've told you for years, and you still won't believe me". 

Holding in a sigh at this argument they've had on and off for years, Salinéll the elven maiden says to her fellow spellcaster "I've explained why I don't think so". 

The elf who hails from the principality of Alínlae briefly pauses, before continuing on with "I'm not saying it's not possible, but let's face it, it's more than highly unlikely". 

In fact Salinéll is of a mind that it's definitely impossible. And does not believe in the wizard's theory at all. 

"Well considering I was the only one there that day" says Margin in a cool tone of voice that makes the others all pause and look his way. 

"And saw what actually happened" continues the wizard in the dark red robes, followed by "You'd think my point would be more valid than anyone else's". 

With a steelie look in her eyes, the elven magic user just stares at the wizard. For the simple reason he has a point with that. And that cannot be argued with. 

Margin let's out a sigh, then in more calm tone of voice says "Look you've seen my memory of that over the years a number of times". 

The wizard continues on with "And I've spoken to a number of people outside the group, who agree with me". 

The human practitioner of magic in the group follows that with "If you don't actually take my word, then maybe you can find someone who'd confirm it". 

Salinéll knows exactly who, or what exactly Margin is referring to. And though she's dealt with them before over the years, and is cordial with them. She's not particularly enamoured with them, or their ways. 

"This could be our only chance" says Margin the wizard, who continues on with "Especially now that we know where they are". 

"That's if they haven't left the city of Vexil because we're mucking around here" dryly says Jarkellé the elven warder in attempt to lighten the mood. 

As he and the rest of the group know that this topic between Salinéll and Margin can go on for ages, with neither one giving up on it. 

The elven maiden looks sideways at the elven warder who like her is from the principality of Alínlae, and sourly smiles. 

Then she looks back at the wizard Margin, who tells her "What's the worst that can happen?" followed by "We waste a little time to confirm if my theory is correct or not". 

Salinéll who dismissed this idea years ago, for the simple reason it's just not believable in her mind. Sighs, then with a shrug of her shoulders, and a wave of her arms, says "I give up". 

Margin faintly smiles, the only indication that he's finally won this argument that he and the elven maiden have had for years. 

"If it's true or not" says the elf who is noble born "We'll still head down to Vexil immediately" continues the elven practitioner of magic. 

The wizard Margin grunts in agreement, while the others all nod in agreement to that from the elven magic user. 

Salinéll though the leader of the group, undoubted leader at that too. She does have to take in account that they're all after the same thing. And she has to take into consideration what the others say and do. 

And unlike herself, and the rest of the group. The wizard Margin has something the rest of them don't have. And that he was there that fatal day just over twenty five years ago. 

And he saw what happened that created this unrelenting drive in Salinéll, which she has devoted her life to over the last quarter of a century. 

A short while later and the group depart the inn they've been staying at while here in the city of Oaklynn, the capital of the kingdom of Girdane. 

Salinéll, who hopes that her 'cousins' Gamil and Farsen Geist are still trying to achieve her other plans between the city-state of Vexil, and the kingdom of Girdane. 

Dryly says to the wizard Margin "Which one?" followed by "My kind doesn't exactly have them you know" she then adds "Since they're noble born, they tend to be the equivalent of what you would call a holy man or woman, not an out and out cleric". 

Behind the elven maiden Salinéll, the two other elves in the group, Jarkellé and Gillomōnt, nod in agreement with her. 

Then the elven warder Jarkellé says "Maybe Madau" followed by "The death god" he then adds "He'd seem appropriate all things considered". 

Margin, who isn't a particular religious man at all, especially when it comes to belief. But he does know a thing or two about the churches and temples of the more than a hundred gods of the world of Volunell. 

Shakes his head no, then says "Might comes as a surprise" he follows that with "But the death god and his followers is probably the one we don't want to deal with". 

The wizard in the dark red robes, which are flapping about as it's a fairly windy, not to mention, cold winter's morning here in the city of Oaklynn, the capital of the kingdom of Girdane. 

Then explains "They see everything, both life and death as one" the middle aged spellcaster follows that with "They're probably less concerned about what's evil and good than any other church or temple I can think of". 

Glancing at the elven maiden walking beside him, and the two elves following closely behind him and Salinéll, Margin adds "Even you lot and your forest gods take what's evil more seriously than the death god and his followers". 

Jarkellé grunts at that, while both Salinéll and Gillomōnt nod at those words from human practitioner of magic in the group. 

"Then which one do you suggest then?* asks the elven magic user who is originally from the principality of Alínlae. 

The wizard Margin replies with "Maybe one of the war gods perhaps" he follows on from that with "At least one that's more militant than the others". 

It's before midmorning when they get to Temple Square, around which one can find the majority of churches and temples here in the city of Oaklynn. 

"Down that street there" says the human practitioner of magic in the dark red coloured robes, who gestures to a street that runs off Temple Square. 

The group head down the street, which is infinitely more quiet than the busy square behind them. 

As they do, Margin the wizard quietly says "Probably have to resort to some bribery" he glances at the elven maiden walking beside him, and quietly tells her "Best if you make sure things go smoothly". 

Salinéll, who can't be sensed by other spellcasters thanks to a charm she wears on a chain around her neck, nods in understanding, then quietly says "I'll see to it". 

They're soon at one of the churches on the street, and head up the steps to the open front doors of the massive building. 

Doors that are guarded by, appropriately enough, church guards, who stand to either side, and though the group garner looks from the guards, they're allowed to enter the large church as a number of others have done so far this morning. 

In a short while the group, who number eight, are in a large antechamber, which are the offices of some of the church functionaries. 

Before long, after a bag of gold and silver is handed over for a special donation to the church, they're led to another room. The office of the church inquisitor, the lead cleric of the church's military arm. 

Who it turns out is a fairly young man for such a position, as he's only about thirty years old. And he gets up from behind his desk and welcomes them in after the functionary who led them here, has a quiet word with the lead cleric. 

"How may I help you this day?" asks the lead cleric of the church of Famal, one of the few remaining human war gods. As most of them were wiped out during the war of the gods about twenty thousand years ago. 

When a number of the gods of Volunell, nearly half of them, challenged the creators of Volunell, the Greater Dragons. And were soundly defeated by those beings who created the world. 

Both Margin the wizard and Salinéll can sense that the church inquisitor is extremely powerful, even though he's young, and isn't the high cleric of Famal. 

"Your holiness, I was wondering if you can help us identify someone" says Margin who briefly pauses before adding "Well, I should say something" followed by "Something that I think you with your training and skill can identify". 

This captures the attention of the lead cleric, who gives the wizard permission to cast within the church, when Margin tells him that he will have to cast a spell from his memory of what took place just over a quarter century ago. 

The wizard in the dark red robes casts the illusion, off to one side, and the lead cleric who is sitting down behind his desk, leans forward and blinks in surprise, before saying "That's a troll, no wait, no it isn't" followed by "That's an ork". 

Salinéll the elven maiden refrains from sneering in anger at the spell her fellow practitioner of magic Margin has cast. 

It shows a trio upon a high city war, during what's obviously a battle. And from what little one sees at the edges of the image, it's obviously a large battle. In fact it's the largest battle in the entire Southlands of the last four and half centuries. 

"Ah not that one" says Margin, who follows that with "And not the young man following in the black cloak". This is said in an obvious cold tone by the wizard. 

Who after a slight pause, tells the cleric in the church of Famal "The large individual beside the ork" he then adds "The one in the full suit of dark plate armour". 

"Hmmm" murmurs the powerful cleric in the church of Famal, who peers intently at the life sized image that the wizard has cast. 

"Looks to be a dark knight" says the lead cleric, who follows that with "Or an avenger, a knight who has renounced his order, and struck out on his own" he then mutters "Big bastard for sure". 

This is exactly what Salinéll has thought all of these years when she's argued with the wizard Margin about it. 

The spellcaster in the dark red robes nods, then he quietly says "Now watch this" and after a moment, his image starts to move. 

There's no sound as they watch the trio move along the top of the wall, with the large figure in the dark plate armour and the even larger ork killing everyone who attacks them or gets in their way. 

"You notice the crossbow bolts and arrows hitting the individual" says Margin, who continues with "Some bouncing off, and others sticking into his armour, with what looks like him not feeling a single thing". 

"Barrier spell perhaps, no" says the lead cleric in the church of Famal, who follows that with "That would deflect everything" he then adds "Magical armour perhaps?". 

"I sensed no spells upon him, or any magical armour" says Margin, who was there that day just over a quarter of a century ago. 

The church inquisitor slowly nods his head, and after the image freezes again, the powerful cleric narrows his eyelids as he looks closely at the image. 

Then he blinks in surprise, and after a moments pause, the lead cleric in the church of Famal says "Wait a moment" followed by "That's a" . . . . . .