Mercenary Tales 75.

The City Of Oaklynn. 

They enter the city of Oaklynn proper just before midnight. Going by the massive airdocks that lie to the southwest of the city. 

There's no walls around Oaklynn, and they enter the city between two buildings, and end up on a street. 

They turn right along the street, that like a lot of streets at night in the capital city, even during winter, is lit. In this case, torch lit. Just like most of the streets in the south of the city. 

The three of them cross the street, and head down a dark lane. The lane is fairly short, and they come out onto another street. That has a few people on it, even though it's close to midnight. 

One glance at the trio, and people keep well clear of them. 

The large heavily armoured figure leading the way, gestures to the other side of the street, which they cross over to. 

The one in the half plate armour walking beside him, yawns. Something that's noticed by the one leading the way. 

While the massive figure at the back, trudges along behind the other two. Scowling and glaring at anyone and anything that catches his attention. 

Seeing that Beldane the cleric is more than a little tired after all that's taken place today. Which began down in the city of Vexil, and is now here in Oaklynn, the capital city of the kingdom of Girdane. Lord Farque leads the way to an inn that he knows of in this part of the city. 

The undead warlord slightly nods his full helmed head when next to him, Beldane the cleric quietly asks him "Know where they are?". 

As they turn a corner, the fighting cleric in the church of Glaine asks the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque "We heading there now?". 

The lord of the death realm doesn't reply immediately, until he finally answers with a shake of his head. 

"You're in no state to take them on" quietly says Lord Farque, who follows that with "You're almost out on your feet now". 

The powerful cleric who hails from the kingdom of Nastell, refrains from yawning again, but only briefly, as he soon yawns as they cross a small square, here in the southwest of the city of Oaklynn. 

The large heavily armoured deathlord, who has the name of Draugodrottin that the people of his lands also know him by. Knows that the fighting cleric is struggling to keep holding his power within himself. 

"You need rest" quietly says the deathlord of Farque, who slightly nods his head back behind them, then quietly says in the elven language "Besides fatso hasn't eaten in while" followed in the same language with "I can tell when he's getting fucking cranky". 

The undead warlord then tells the Nastellian born spellcaster "The big fuckwit needs to be fed and watered". 

Beldane the cleric slightly grins at that, then once again he yawns. Proving that indeed, he does need rest. 

As they head down a long street, Dorc da Orc perks up when he spots what's obviously an inn further down the other side of the street. 

An inn, that by the looks and sounds of things, still takes customers even though it's close to midnight. 

They cross the street, and Draugodrottin nods his full helmed head in reply to Dorc da Orc asking "We fucken going there?". Referring to the inn they're approaching. 

They enter the establishment, and after getting what's essentially a suite up on the second floor of the two storey building. 

The trio enter the common room of the inn, a common room, that even at this time of the night, is easily half full. 

The conversations die down as the patrons look at the trio who have just entered. And more than a few stares are directed their way, as they head to a corner table, here in the inn's common room. 

The conversations from the other patrons pick up again after the trio sit down. Well Lord Farque and Beldane the cleric sit down at the corner table. While Dorc da Orc sits on the floor, next to the table. As no chair or bench here in the common room can support his weight. 

While the large ork, whose actual name is Dorkindle, fidgets as he waits for the food and drink he's ordered to arrive. 

Beldane the cleric after looking around at the other customers in the common room, quietly asks the lord of the death realm "Where exactly are they?". 

"North of here" is the quiet reply of the undead being who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means, The Destroyer. 

"On the other side of the city center, and the royal palace" quietly adds the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque. 

"The three of them?" quietly asks the powerful practitioner of magic who is a member of the church of Glaine. 

The deathlord of Farque replies with a nod of his full helmed head. Then he and the fighting cleric fall silent as the serving woman, and a helper stop at their table to deliver drinks. 

Most of which, including a barrel that's rolled over. Ends up with the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. 

As the ork warleader yanks the cork from a bottle of wine, and downs it's contents in one go. Beldane the cleric quietly asks the undead warlord "Notice all that activity at the airdocks when we went by?". 

With a nod of his full helmed head, the lord of the death realm quietly says "At the docks of their aircorp". 

Des'tier continues with "Word's probably got to them of all the activity down on the border" followed by "It was bound to happen". 

"Wonder if they got word of it from that trio who turned up today?" muses the fighting cleric who hails from the north of the kingdom of Nastell, where his god Glaine, is predominantly worshipped. 

"A possibility" quietly says the undead warlord, who follows that with "Especially considering all the other shit they've tried to stir up in this region". 

The powerful spellcaster nods his head in agreement with the large heavily armoured deathlord. 

Then they fall silent again when the serving woman and her helper return with food. Which like the drink, most of it goes to the big burly ork sitting on the floor next to the table the other two are sitting at. 

As Dorc chows down on a rolled roast pork, Beldane the cleric nibbles on some bread and cheese. 

The powerful practitioner of magic slightly nods when the deathlord of Farque quietly tells him "They've settled down for the night from what I can tell". 

Then the fighting cleric in the church of Glaine lifts an eyebrow in surprise when the undead warlord quietly tells him "Think we'll take this Salinéll alive". 

"Oh" says Beldane, who after pouring himself some wine, and taking a drink of it, adds "And why's that?". 

The Nastellian born spellcaster listens as Draugodrottin, quietly and in the elven language, explains why they'll take the elven magic user who they're after, alive. 

The cleric in the half plate armour eyebrows shoot up in surprise again once the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque finishes explaining why. 

"Hell" murmurs the cleric who hails from the north of the kingdom of Nastell, who then quietly says in elven "That's if they're still alive down there in the border region". 

The lord of the death realm just shrugs his broad heavily armoured shoulders in reply to that, and does so again, when Beldane asks him "And the other two, the wizard and that elven warden?". 

Well, they're dead then, the fighting cleric dryly thinks to himself referring to the wizard Margin, and Jarkellé the elven warden. 

Then the powerful practitioner of magic who is a member of the church of Glaine, quietly asks the undead warlord "When should we get her?". 

"Halfway to dawn I guess" is the quiet reply of Des'tier, who falls silent for a few moments as the serving woman and her helper return once more, bringing Dorc da Orc more alcohol. Barrels of ale to be exact. 

"I'll do it" quietly says the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque after the serving woman and her helper move away. 

"You two stay here" quietly adds the large heavily armoured deathlord, followed by "You need rest if we're to go south to the border first thing in the morning". 

Draugodrottin then glances at the large ork sitting on the floor trying to shove a whole cooked leg of lamb into his mouth at once. 

"And the fat fucking idiot will just get in the way if I take him" adds Lord Farque, who has learned over the years. That true, Dorc da Orc is great in a fight. But capturing someone isn't exactly his specialty. Considering he tends to just kill everyone. 

The fighting cleric finishes his meal, and finally the ork warleader finishes eating too. Though the large ork who is a general in the Armies of Farque, takes a lot of booze with him up to their suite when they head up there. 

While Beldane quickly falls asleep, the undead warlord remains with the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world for a while. 

It's not until much later, nearly halfway to dawn, that the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque leaves. Though only after telling Dorkindle to guard the sleeping cleric. Which is fine by him, as he intends to drink the last of the alcohol he's brought up to their rooms with him. 

Draugodrottin quickly departs the inn, and as usual when he wants to move with speed through a city, he heads up. 

The large heavily armoured deathlord of Farque is moving quickly across the rooftops, here in the southwest of the city of Oaklynn. Heading more or less towards the city center. On what's a cold winters night for this part of the kingdom of Girdane. 

The undead warlord leaps over a street, going over a pair of the city watch. Who are escorting a street lighter. Who is dousing some of the torches in the neighbourhoods in the southwest corner of the city. 

It doesn't take Des'tier long to reach the city center, and he's soon moving northwards through Oaklynn. Keeping clear of the royal palace and the parliament building. 

The lord of the death realm leaps to the top of a fifty foot tower. Where he briefly stops. Draugodrottin who has been continuously sensing since he left the inn they're staying at. Slightly nods to himself, when he spots the building in the distance, the targets he's after are in. 

The warlord of Farque sees that it's a fairly narrow two storey house, in one of the nicer neighbourhoods here in Oaklynn. 

The large heavily armoured deathlord then leaps off the tower and lands on a nearby rooftop. He lands mid stride, and continues running and leaping from rooftop to rooftop, as he heads towards the building the trio he's after, are in this cold winters night. 

The lord and ruler of the Lands Farque soon comes to a stop when he jumps down into a lane, and looks down a street, to the rear of the house that Salinéll the elven magic user, Jarkellé the elven warden and Margin the wizard are in this night. 

The undead warlord wryly smiles to himself as he can clearly sense, and see the hidden spells that both Margin and Salinéll have placed around, and inside the house they're staying in while here in the city of Oaklynn. 

Draugodrottin leaps up to the roof of the building to his right. It's in fact a house, a row of which the undead warlord makes his way along until he's opposite the rear of the narrow, street front house that trio he's after are in. 

The deathlord of Farque who can see all life, and death for that matter. Basically looks through the rear wall of the two storey home opposite the one he's standing on top of. 

Des'tier sees that Salinéll the elven maiden is asleep in the bedroom on the second floor. While Margin the wizard is in the first room bedroom. And Jarkellé the elven warden, is awake on watch, in the front parlour of the two storey home, looking out the window to the street on that side of the house. 

The large heavily armoured deathlord moves a bit to his right, so that he's directly in line with the second floor bedroom that the elven magic user from the principality of Alinlae, Salinéll is asleep in. 

Lord Farque slightly nods his full helmed head to himself then draws his massive sword that's strapped to his back. The undead warlord wants to capture Salinéll alive. And The Sword of Power will be easiest for that to occur. Draugodrottin briefly glances down to the ground floor of the narrow home across the street. 

Before looking back up to the second floor, and the window of the bedroom that Salinéll the elven maiden is asleep in. 

The undead warlord then leaps across the twenty foot wide lane between the row of homes on this side, and the ones in front of them. 

The lord and ruler of the Lands Farque with Ryn the Sword of Power in hand, passes through the wards protecting the narrow home the trio he's after are in. 

And smashes through the window, and to be fair much of the wall that surrounds the window, and enters the second storey bedroom on this cold winters night, here in the city of Oaklynn, the capital of the kingdom of Girdane . . . . . .