Wonderful 29.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Mira Reinholt the mage sits upon his bed with his eyes closed. The once powerful mage has put on his summer cloak, and has his pack, with what little possessions he has, sitting on the end of the bed.
The Vexilian mage in exile who is sitting back against the wall behind him, listens carefully as he waits. It's not too long before he thinks he hears something out on the balcony.
A few moments later, and the doors to the balcony open, and the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster hears a familiar voice say "Mage".
He opens his eyes, and sees a large figure in a full suit of blue, black heavy plate armour standing in the open doorway to the balcony looking at him "Farque" says Mira Reinholt the mage.
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head, then after looking at the Vexilian mage in exile for another moment or two as he senses him, lord Farque asks him "What have they done to you?". "Dosed me with a potion that blocks me from my magic" replies the mage Reinholt, who then informs the heavily armoured deathlord what the potion is and it's side effects "Wondered why you hadn't blasted yourself free" dryly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then adds "Let's go".
The swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands stands up, grabs his pack, and shoulders it, then the once powerful mage notices something, and he says "Where's that sword of yours?" lord Farque replies with "A long story to that" he continues with "But at the moment that fat fucking lump Dorc has got it".
"Poor sword" murmurs Mira Reinholt with a shake of his head, who then looks at the tall, heavily armoured figure who gestures out the balcony doors then says "I guess you don't want to go out the way i came up?".
"Not particularly" sourly says the exiled Vexilian mage who figures the undead warlord scaled the sheer rock face of the escarpment that the keep like tower of the Haldéilv family sits upon.
"Figures" dryly says the deathlord of Farque who is also known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, he points to the doorway that opens up into the hallway and he says "Out that way and down" the lord and ruler of the lands Farque continues with "On the way out, we'll deal with that annoying bitch who has been bugging us for the last few years" the mage Reinholt nods his head in agreement.
As the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, follows the heavily armoured deathlord across the large open room, he glances out the windows to the balcony.
There in the moonlight outside, the swordmaster Reinholt spots one of the elven house guards lying near the balcony garden, his limbs are akimbo, and his head is at an odd, unnatural angle, he's obviously dead.
The deathlord and mage, who are both from south of equator, stop at the closed door. There the undead warlord reaches up and runs his right gauntleted hand along the top of the door frame.
"What was it?" asks Mira Reinholt "An alarm spell to see if you would try to open it from the inside" replies lord Farque who then opens the door, breaking the locking mechanism as he does so. As they walk out into the hallway, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque quietly says to the exiled Vexilian mage "Keep behind me Mira". "You don't have to tell me that twice" dryly murmurs the swordmaster Reinholt as he follows the undead warlord out into the hallway.
They turn left in the lamp lit hallway, and as they start heading along it, the once powerful mage quietly tells the heavily armoured deathlord "They're probably down in the main banquet hall" he continues with "They've got guests". "I know" quietly says Draugadrottin as they head along the hallway, then as they approach a closed door up on their left, Mira Reinholt who knows who is in the room behind the closed door, quietly says "If anyone comes out of that door up here, don't kill them".
"Fine" sourly says lord Farque who senses two humans in the room up ahead, both right behind the closed door, most likely listening, as they've probably heard the deathlord of Farque and the Vexilian mage in exile.
The undead warlord steps quickly to the closed door as he hears a hand on the handle on the otherside, he punches the door right next to the door handle, and it goes flying off it's hinges, and goes flying inwards. "They'll live" says the heavily armoured deathlord who continues on his way down the hallway.
The mage Reinholt pops his head into the room, and he sees that the door has landed about fifteen feet into the room, beneath it, knocked out, is the mercenary guard Harrick. While the other mercenary guard, Ginden, is off to one side, lying on the floor, completely dazed, moaning with a broken right arm.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster is glad to see his two guards still alive, he has nothing against them, infact he quite likes them, besides they were just doing the job they were paid to do.
Mira Reinholt hurries to catch up to lord Farque, who has gone around the corner to the left at the end of the hallway, the exiled Vexilian mage rounds the corner, and finds the undead warlord at the top of some steps, lying nearby in the hallway, are a pair of elven house guards.
One whose neck is obviously broken, the other whose chest looks like it has exploded, the mage Reinholt knows that one probably got punched or kicked in the chest by the heavily armoured deathlord.
Lord Farque picks up a longsword belonging to one of the dead elven house guards, and he hands it to Mira Reinholt and says "Take care of anyone who comes at us from behind" the swordmaster Reinholt nods his head in understanding, then the two of them start making their way down the steps.
In the main banquet hall, which is roughly in the middle of the keep like tower that's been the home of the Haldéilv family for nearly fifteen hundred years. Kaldeàlil Haldéilv sits at a table that's furthest removed from the high table as possible.
The attractive elven maid who being a daughter of lord Haldéilv is allowed to sit at the high table if she wants to. But it's just not worth the hassle in her opinion.
The elven magic user yawns as she looks to the high table, where sits her father, some of his family, senior members of his household, as well as a couple of the guests from the coastal city of Falnic, one of whom is the justifier Kaellin.
Kaldeàlil Haldéilv sourly smiles, as she hears her father regaling a story to the justifier about an adventure deep into the mountains of Maladimbáh during his youth. Which was probably over five hundred years ago, as the head of the noble family of Haldéilv is around seven hundred and fifty years old.
The attractive elven maid goes back to nibbling at the sweet pastry on her plate, as those at her table continue to ignore her, like just about everyone else here in the banquet hall, well those that have remained as dinner was served early as is the custom here in the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
At the table are a pair of young humans, justifier guards from the city of Falnic, who are doing their utmost best to get drunk, they're being pretty successful at it too.
Also at the table are two of the tower servants, and a hunter from northeast in the lands of the Haldéilv family. Kaldeàlil vaguely remembers him, as he hunts in the forest near the town where she was brought up by her mother's family. He's the only one tonight in the banquet hall who has shown any courtesy to the elven magic user.
For she, as a by product of the crime of rape, is the physical manifestation of lord Haldéilv's shame, their lord's shame.
The attractive elven maid is just about to take a drink from her wine goblet, when the hunter, who is sitting a couple of seats to her right, says to her in their native language "You hear that?".
Kaldeàlil Haldéilv looks to where he points, to an open doorway away on the left side of the banquet hall from where they're sitting. The elven magic user frowns as she tries to hear what the hunter with his keen hearing has picked up, then he says "Sounds like fighting".
The attractive elven maid is about to say something in agreement as she does hear something that sounds like fighting from there, when suddenly a house guard comes flying into the banquet hall through that particular open doorway.
The house guard travels a good twenty five feet through the air, until he hits the top of a table, which he goes tumbling across. Sending crockery, mugs, goblets and trenchers flying. He also hits two of those sitting at that table, which he rolls off, and slides along the floor, until coming to a stop at the foot of a bench at the next table along, with his head resting at an oblique angle, as his neck is obviously broken.
There's a couple of moments of stunned silence throughout the dining hall, then everyone starts speaking at once, including Kaldeàlil Haldéilv who mutters "Shit".
The attractive elven maid looks to the doorway the house guard came flying through, and she mutters "Shit" again, this time in a tone of shock and surprise. As standing there is a large, heavily armoured figure in a suit of blue, black plate armour, who is familiar to the elven magic user. A figure she sent to the bottom of the Great Western Ocean over a month ago.
Then Kaldeàlil Haldéilv mutters "Shit" a third time, as the tall figure in the heavy plate armour, turns his full helmed head, and looks directly at her . . . . . .

TYOFT - Authors Note.

Test post.

Wonderful 28.

Three Weeks Ago. The Great Western Ocean...

Tirelessly, and effortlessly, lord Farque puts one arm infront of the other as he swims through the tropics in the Great Western Ocean, north of the equator.
The undead warlord hardly even looks up as he swims on the surface of the warm water as he heads eastwards towards where he knows land is.
The heavily armoured deathlord as he swims, briefly turns his full helmed head to the right, and watches in the distance, a fifteen foot long shark approaching him.
Once the shark gets within fifty yards of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, it veers sharply away and goes off in an entirely different direction.
The shark, like all creatures of the sea, small or big, dangerous or not, keep their distance from the deathlord of Farque. And with good reason too.
The undead warlord continues on his way, swimming effortlessly in his heavy plate armour, not stopping, as he continues on his way eastwards towards land.
After swimming through another night, and into the morning, the heavily armoured deathlord stops for the first time since he came up onto the surface last week. Lord Farque lifts up and looks to the north a bit where he's spotted something about a mile away, after a few moments, the undead warlord heads in that direction.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque stops just back from the stern of a shipwreck, he stands, and starts walking along the sandy floor of the ocean, and onto the mid ocean beach that the remains of the ship is upon. The vessel, a twin masted cutter that's familiar to him, is broken up, with only the hull, below the water line still intact where it obviously ran aground, a sure sign that it's been here for more than few days, even longer. The deathlord of Farque can see debris floating in the water, that the currents have moved in and away from the wreck, which looks like it's been burnt if the black scorch marks along what's now the top of it is anything to go by.
"Well somebody obviously escaped" lord Farque dryly murmurs to himself, he figures it was Dorc da Orc, for if Mira Reinholt the mage did it, the vessel would be blasted into pieces, with only debris scattered in all directions on the surface of the water, which by the time the undead warlord arrived, it would of been gone.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque figures the ork warleader found a way to escape, due to the fact that he can not sense his sword anywhere. And he knows that in rare times the Sword of Power Ryn will allow Dorkindle to carry her around, she wouldn't let the mage Reinholt do so. Besides the Vexilian mage in exile would struggle to carry the Farque family sword due to it's size and weight.
"Now what about you mage?" murmurs the heavily armoured deathlord as he stands upon the mid ocean beach and he looks off to the east in the morning sunshine, the undead warlord senses as far as he can, then not finding anything he wants to, he shrugs his broad, armoured shoulders, walks into the water, and starts swimming in the direction of where he knows land is.

Two Weeks Ago. Belinswae...

Once upon land, lord Farque quickly found the fishing village in the south of the region of Belinswae where not just Dorc da Orc came ashore. But where previously, Mira Reinholt the mage and his captor, the elven magic user Kaldeàlil Haldéilv also came ashore.
Finding out which direction they went, the undead warlord headed north along the coast. The deathlord of Farque ran night and day without stopping, until he went inland a bit, to a river town. There lord Farque, discovered that the mage Reinholt and the elven magic user Haldéilv, along with a pair of mercenary guards, headed north on one of the river boats.
There was no word of Dorc da Orc, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque figures, correctly too, that the Sword of Power Ryn would have the large ork travel at night, and to keep him away from people, which is the smart thing to do, as the ork warleader is bound to do something idiotic and violent that will get him in trouble.
Lord Farque sticking to land, and not bothering to go on one of the river boats, as he can travel faster on foot, continued northwards, keeping more or less to the course of the river that he finds out, empties out into the Great Western Ocean just to the south of the port city of Falnic.
On the day he was about halfway to Falnic, the undead warlord when he stopped at a town to find out any more information, learnt of the the elven principality of Maladimbáh to the north of the nomads plains, which is further inland of the town he briefly stopped at.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque knows he could continue north, close to the coast and make his way to Falnic, but he decides to go further inland, and from there to head north to the principality of Maladimbáh, where he figures Kaldeàlil Haldéilv has taken Mira Reinholt too, a place of familiarity to her, where she can hope to lure the person she's after to.
After acquiring some maps of Belinswae, the nomads plains and Maladimbáh, for he doesn't know this part of north of the equator, as he's only traveled in the south of Belinswae before. Well over a decade ago, when he and Dorc da Orc were chasing after Mira Reinholt the mage for the wrong that he did to them at the battle of Vexil. A chase that led them to the far eastern coast of the continent, over ten thousand miles away.
The heavily armoured deathlord heads inland, still going slightly north, but heading east all the same as he heads through Belinswae, towards the nomads plains .
A few days later and the undead warlord is in a village, known as an inbetween village, populated by half bloods. It's here the lord and ruler of the lands Farque learns the differences about the societies in Belinswae and the nomads plains.
Lord Farque who already knows that the hordes barbarians of the southern tundra, which is south of his own vast lands. Are descended from the nomads of the arid plains to the east of Belinswae. And that they share a fairly common culture, and the same dialect, an off shoot of the common language.
What he found surprising is how deep the hatred between those who are locally referred to as townsmen, and the nomads who dwell in the plains. With the half breeds, or as they're also know by, half bloods. Stuck in the middle of the two societies that have a deep hatred for one another.
Knowing this, the heavily armoured deathlord, who always attracts attention wherever he goes, due to his size, and what he wears. Heads out towards the nomads plains after hearing about sightings in the area of a green monster, that was seen going out into the hot dry plains where the tribal nomads dwell.

A Week Ago. The Nomads Plains...

One day as he's crossing the crossing the nomads plains, lord Farque stops and looks up and watches a flight of wild wyverns, one of which breaks off, and heads downwards to where the heavily armoured deathlord stands upon the banks of a dry river bed, which probably hasn't seen water coursing through it in thousands of years.
The undead warlord bends down and picks up a fairly decent sized rock, and as the wyvern dives down at him, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque throws the rock at it, he throws the rock hard too.
The head of the large winged creature snaps to one side when it gets hit in the skull, the wyvern that measures about forty feet from wing tip to wing tip, plummets to the ground, completely knocked out.
It smacks into the ground after dropping nearly hundred feet, it's not moving, but the deathlord can sense that it's still alive, and he can hear it snoring as it lies there blacked out, completely oblivious to it's surroundings, and to what's happened to it.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque looks all around as he senses, then he heads off to the east, going a little to the south, the direction the flight of wyverns are heading.
A short time later, and a few miles further on, wyverns screech and squawk, then take off in fright when lord Farque approaches, calling out something in a language they've never heard before, but they instantly understand, and obey.
After the wyverns take off, scatter, and fly away, the undead warlord looks around at the nomads camp that the wyverns were scavenging from.
The deathlord of Farque sees the bodies lying everywhere, he sees that they've died by weapons, well those that he can find and see that haven't been half eaten by the flight of wild wyverns.
The undead warlord spots a number of dead townsmen amongst the dead nomads, and about fifty yards from the camp, lies what's obviously a tame wyvern, which was killed by the nomad fighters.
After walking around the camp, where the tents resemble the dry, sandy looking surroundings, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque who can tell that the raid here by a group of townsmen, happened two days ago, continues on his way east and north across the nomads plains, leaving behind the dead.
Two days later, and early in the morning before dawn, lord Farque stops and looks east, and a bit to the south, the heavily armoured deathlord who is continually sensing in all directions. Senses something very familiar about fifteen miles away in that direction.
Ryn, says lord Farque by way of mindspeech to his sword.
My lord, replies the Sword of Power Ryn.
The two of them briefly converse in the language of the Greater Dragons. The undead warlord who makes up his mind to leave his family's sword with Dorc da Orc for a little while longer as he goes in search of Mira Reinholt the mage who is likely in trouble he can't get out of at the moment.
Faintly smiles as he hears the dry tone of the voice of the soul of the Greater Dragon that inhabits his sword, as she'll have to be with the large ork, who has just fallen asleep after spending a busy night out on the nomads plains, for a little bit longer.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque who is of the opinion that Dorc da Orc will be as much hindrance, than help trying to free the mage Reinholt, and that Ryn the Sword of Power can control the ork warleader enough that he won't get into too much trouble. Tells her that he'll return for her as quickly as he can once he has the Vexilian mage in exile who is the prisoner of the elven magic user Kaldeàlil Haldéilv.
The deathlord of Farque then continues on his way, still heading north as much as east.
Two days later, and lord Farque stops, and as he looks due north, he can clearlybsee the foothills along the very north of the nomads plains, and beyond those, he sees the mountains of the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
The undead warlord heads towards them to find Mira Reinholt the mage, and to free him . . . . . .

Wonderful 27.

Mira Reinholt decides to stretch his legs after dinner, so he goes out onto the long balcony and takes a walk along it. While inside the large open style room that's been his prison cell since arriving here in the Haldéilv family tower, his two guards Harrick and Ginden, are quietly chatting as they share a jug of ale. It was just the three of them at dinner tonight, as the elven magic user Kaldeàlil Haldéilv is dining in the main banquet hall in the keep like tower.
After stripping a couple of leaves off the plant in the garden he's been using to null the side effects of the potion he's been given, and eating them. The mage Reinholt heads to the east side of the balcony, there the two elven house guards who are on duty on the balcony this evening, are quietly chatting to one another in their language.
And as the once powerful mage approaches, he hears that their topic of conversation is pretty much the talk of the tower over the past two days. The visitors from the city of Falnic, one of whom is a justifier, who arrived by wyvern two nights ago.
The exiled Vexilian mage who has met some of the visitors over the last two days, has pretty much tagged them all for being assholes.
He doesn't know the last time he has met people he thoroughly disagrees with and dislikes, hell the mage Reinholt thinks the group he travels with are even better people than this lot from Falnic in the region of Belinswae. And that's saying something, as some of the individuals in the group the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil usually travels with are the most disreputable people you'll ever likely to meet.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, doesn't get too close to the elven guards, and he moves forward to lean upon the balcony rail, which is thick wall, about waist or lower cheat high.
Mira Reinholt after looking away to the south in the direction of the nomads plains, he looks straight down to the base of the escarpment, there in the village below, which is nearly surrounded on all sides by trees, he can just make out in the fading light of the early evening the pair of wyverns lying in the field on one side of the village.
Seeing the wyverns, who are down there away from the griffon up on top of the Haldéilv tower, who given half a chance will attack and kill the wyverns if lord Haldéilv didn't keep it in line. The Vexilian mage in exile thinks about those who arrived here two nights ago after traveling here from the coast of Belinswae and their city of Falnic, which the mage Reinholt, his guards and his captor, briefly stopped at almost a month ago.
There's the young justifier guards, who are going around proudly wearing on their belts, the scalps of nomads they killed as they made their way here to the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
The elves here think them uncouth for that, but they don't particularly care as they see it as what humans do to one another, and it's always what they've done to one another. Townsmen killing nomads, and vice versa.
The once powerful mage, who doesn't usually care about things like this, found it repugnant. For he spotted quite a few small scalps, obviously children, and from the looks of it, a couple that looked like they were infants.
Even Mira Reinholt's two guards, Harrick and Ginden, who are townsmen themselves, found what they saw disgustung. Though the two of them are from the south of Belinswae, where justifiers are quite weak in their authority. And the fishing villages and towns there, where the mercenary guards hail from, tend to be a truly independent lot, living completely separate in lifestyle and society to much of the rest of Belinswae. It helps that the south of the region of Belinswae along that coast, is much further away from the nomads plains than the rest of the region.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster then thinks of the justifier amongst those who are visiting the home of lord Haldéilv. Mira Reinholt who is unable to sense anything magical at the moment, immediately picked the man for being a mage, he should know, he's one himself. The swordmaster from south of the equator instantly recognized the arrogant attitude and nature of the spellcaster form the coastal city of Falnic as being that which belongs to a mage.
Mira himself was once like that, infact he still can be at times, but over the years, and now into his thirties, he's matured and tempered his arrogant behaviour. Having one's vast magical powers stripped from them will tend to do that to you.
Justifier Kaellin, even the name sounds arrogant, Mira Reinholt the mage thinks to himself, the once powerful mage finds it ironic that for all the arrogance and disdain he saw the mage from the city of Falnic display. That he preferred to be called a justifier instead of a mage, when normally a mage is proud to be identified as one.
Even now, without all his vast stores of power, and what little he has, he can not touch. Mira Reinholt still refers to himself to his calling, a mage.
As if some pisspot title of a political leader of an overgrown fishing town is more important than being the mage that you are, the swordmaster Reinholt thinks to himself in a sour tone, making clear his true feelings of the other mage who is in residence here in the tower of the Haldéilv family.
Though the Vexilian mage in exile is more than a little put out that the other mage here is a guest, while he's a prisoner. And not a prisoner of the elven lord whose tower this is. But the prisoner of the elven lord's bastard daughter, who was beget by the act of rape.
Shows how important you are Mira, the mage Reinholt dryly thinks to himself with a shake of his head, the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, who of late hasn't been wearing his hooded cloak. Glances over at the two elven guards who he hears talking about the justifier and those with him, who are in the banquet hall at the moment. The mage from south of the equator listens to the two elves for a little while.
"Seems our lord will sign a treaty with this justifier" says one of the elven guards as he and his comrade in arms converse in their native language, he continues with "Hopefully to do business that will help in the shaming of those Walashàelé meat eaters".
Mira Reinholt faintly smiles at the insult of meat eaters to describe the elven noble family in the mountain valley not that far away to the east.
"That's all well in good, but something right now against them would be better" says the second elven house guard, who after glancing to where the mage Reinholt is leaning against the balcony rail, he continues with "Word is from this mage's two guards inside the room, our lord's shame is willing to do something more immediate, and if things are to be believed, way more drastic to the Walashàelé's".
The spellcaster who also happens to be a swordmaster, a highly skilled one at that. Knows that the elves here in the Haldéilv tower, and those in the village below, refer to Kaldeàlil Haldéilv as their lord's shame. Which the attractive elven maid from what the mage Reinholt has seen, couldn't care less about.
Interesting, the once powerful mage thinks to himself as he realises that his captor Kaldeàlil Haldéilv has gone with his idea of doing something a bit more permanent to her father's rivals, instead of the usual humiliation and shame elven nobles here in the principality of Maladimbáh tend to do to one another.
The exiled Vexilian mage moves a bit further along the balcony rail to his right, away from the two elven house guards so that they don't get annoyed with him and tell him to go back inside. In the fading light of the early evening, that's quickly turning to darkness the spellcaster from the Southlands looks up at the night sky for a few moments, then he looks over the balcony rail, and down at the village below at the base of the escarpment.
The mage who was once more powerful of any of his kind, in his generation to be found throughout the Southlands, slightly frowns as he looks down and he thinks he sees something. Then in the soft glow of the light coming from fires and lamps out of open windows and doorways in the houses below, the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil sees it again in a patch of darkness near some trees on one side of the village below.
It's two small points of blue light, that seems to be looking straight up at him, the spellcaster, swordmaster and adventurer instantly recognises what it is.
Fuck! Mira Reinholt exclaims in his mind as he jerks his head back in surprise and a bit of fright as he wasn't expecting to see that, the Vexilian mage in exile who is surprised he didn't say that out loud. Quickly glances over at the two house guards to make sure they didn't see his reaction to what he spotted below, it looks like they haven't, as they're still deep in their conversation.
The mage Reinholt leans forward again and looks down, he slightly frowns as he looks to the area he spotted the small points of blue light, and he can't see them anymore, then a few moments later they appear again. The exiled Vexilian mage leans an arm out and quickly waves it before bringing it back in.
The small points of blue light, disappear and reappear a moment later, as if someone blinks, for that's exactly what it is.
Mira Reinholt nods as he looks down, then he turns and calls out "Yeah!" followed by "Coming!" in response to Harrick from inside, calling out "Mage, time for it!".
The once powerful mage quickly looks over the balcony rail, and down to one side of the village, to a patch of darkness near some trees, the small pin pricks of blue light have vanished, so the swordmaster Reinholt turns and makes his way back inside the large room that's been his prison cell of late.
Inside, the mercenary guard Harrick says "Here" as he places a small vial on the table, the spellcaster from south of the equator takes it, and drinks the contents, making a face after he does so "Ugh, she still hasn't changed the taste" says the swordmaster Reinholt as he hands the empty vial back to Harrick.
After Harrick and Ginden laugh at the expense of the mage Reinholt, and he briefly stumbles in a sham manner on his way to his bed which he sits upon. The two mercenary guards gather up the trays with the empty plates, mugs, jugs and bowls, and make their way out of the room, wishing the mage a goodnight. The once powerful mage slightly slurs a "Goodnight" to the two of them as they leave.
Then once his guards have left, Mira Reinholt leans back against the wall on one side of the bed he's on, closes his eyes and waits to freed from his prison cell, which he knows will happen this evening . . . . . .

Wonderful 26.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Seething, as she always is after having a conversation with her father. Kaldeàlil Haldéilv makes her way from the village at the base of the escarpment in the warm morning sun, and enters the rock face through a large swinging door.
The guards and others keep their distance as she walks towards the wind tower that goes up through the escarpment, upon which is the tower that her father's family has called home for over fifteen hundred years.
The attractive elven maid steps into the tube like wind tower, hoping the magically cooled air within it will cool her temper. Alas it doesn't, for as she shoots upwards, she's still hot, figuratively, due to the latest argument with her father.
"Fucking rapist" mutters Kaldeàlil Haldéilv under her breath as she floats upwards in the wind tower, she gets to the top of the hundred and fifty foot tall magical tower and steps out, kind of wishing she had taken the steps up so she could work out some of her frustration.
The attractive elven maid who is now in the tower proper, makes her way through corridors and hallways, heading up steps and stairwells of the keep like structure. Those she passes on her way, keep their distance, for though the elves who serve lord Haldéilv now know that Kaldeàlil is his daughter, she is basically shunned by them since she's the product of his shame, the product of his crime.
The elven spellcaster once up a short set of steps, makes her way along a hallway on the south facing side of the large tower, she approaches an open doorway, she can hear laughter coming from the room the doorway opens into, as well as talking in the common language.
The attractive elven maid makes her way through the doorway, and closes the door behind her, the conversation in the room stops, and a trio of humans at the table in the center of the large room, turn and look at her.
They glance at one another, then one of them speaks up "Everything alright my lady?" asks Harrick the mercenary "Fine" replies the elven magic user in a sour tone, which causes two of the humans, the two mercenary guards to slightly wince, and the other human, their prisoner, to wryly smile.
"You know, if you want to get the better of him, do something he won't expect" says Mira Reinholt the mage, who then adds "Like kill one of the Walashàelé's" the attractive elven maid says "If i want your opinion mage, i would ask for it" says Kaldeàlil Haldéilv in a caustic tone of voice, she then adds "And besides, the nobility here don't go around killing their rivals unlike what they do in a lot of places in the Southlands".
"Pity" murmurs the mage Reinholt who got his ability to speak properly again early this morning, after taking the potion that blocks his magic the night before last. Well that's what the once powerful mage wants his captors to believe.
The elven spellcaster whose mother was a servant in this very tower, but she Kaldeàlil was brought up by members of her mother's family in a hamlet in the mountain forest away to the northwest in the lands of the Haldéilv family. Sourly smiles at the Vexilian mage in exile and his two guards, who get on well, as they're the only humans here in the tower of the elven noble family that's been here for fifteen hundred years. Or down in the village below either. Though the attractive elven maid knows that the mercenaries and their captive have got along ever since Kaldeàlil hired Harrick and Ginden on the coast, down in the south of Belinswae, not long after she and the mage Reinholt came ashore.
"What happened this time?" asks the spellcaster from south of the equator, the elven spellcaster rolls her eyes, as her prisoner will never learn his place. Though she must admit she, along with the two mercenaries have encouraged his behaviour, especially since arriving here in the principality of Maladimbáh. For the simple reason Kaldeàlil Haldéilv hasn't really got anyone else to talk to about things, apart from her prisoner and his two guards. And she's learnt the Vexilian mage in exile is highly intelligent, and vastly experienced for a human being who is only around thirty years old.
The attractive elven maid walks over to the open balcony doors where a warm breeze is blowing in from outside, she closes them so that the pair of elven house guards out on the balcony can't overhear what she says.
"The usual, among other things" says Kaldeàlil Haldéilv once she sits down at the table, and she accepts a mug of cider that Ginden pours for her, with a thought she makes the cider cold, making it more refreshing on what is a warm morning here in the mountains of the elven principality.
After a moments hesitation, she makes the cider in the mugs of the other's cold too, as well as what's in the glass jug.
"Thanks" says the swordmaster Reinholt after taking a sip of his now ice cold cider, the two mercenary guards thank their employer too once they discover their drinks are cold as well.
The spellcaster who is in exile from his homeland of Vexil then says to his captor "Well?" followed by "What was it this time?" Mira Reinholt as he looks at the attractive elven maid adds "Apart from the usual".
"His lack of helping me out in certain things" says the elven magic user, the human mage wryly smiles, then says in a dry "Let me guess, it has something to do with the trap that I'm the bait in?" Kaldeàlil Haldéilv rolls her eyes, and though she doesn't say anything in reply to what the mage Reinholt just said, she does nod in agreement with it.
Damn mage, knows me too well, the attractive elven maid dryly thinks to herself "Well that's if anyone bothers to free me" says the highly skilled swordmaster who shrugs his shoulders before he takes another sip from his mug of cold cider.
"You think he won't?" casually asks the elven spellcaster, once again fearing that she might be wasting her time, considering the last time someone tried to free the once powerful mage, it wasn't the person she wanted to.
Mira Reinholt pauses for a moment as he thinks about that, then he truthfully says "I think there's a better a chance that he probably will, than he won't" the exiled Vexilian mage then continues in the elven language which the two mercenary guards don't understand apart from a few basic words and sayings "Unless someone else tries to free me, like last time on the ship we were on".
"Don't worry" says Kaldeàlil Haldéilv in the same language, who continues with "If you think that" she briefly pauses before she adds "Thing" then she says "Will come and free you, it won't as i took care of him".
The mage Reinholt wryly smiles, and in elven, which he still speaks with an atrocious accent, says "If you think you took care of him, you're more delusional than i thought you were" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster adds "You better hope to those forest gods of yours he doesn't show up here to free me".
The Vexilian mage in exile knows that if he's still useful to a certain someone, which he assumes he is, he'll be freed by someone. Though when, he has no idea, as he doesn't even know if any of the others know where he's being held prisoner at the moment.
Kaldeàlil Haldéilv who momentarily pauses as she thinks of the undead being that attacked the sailing ship she and her prisoner were on, hoping that though it might not be at the bottom of the sea, far out in the Great Western Ocean. That at least it won't know her and the mage Reinholt's current location.
While she does hope that the person she's actually after, does know where she is, for she has left some clues to where she is. Hoping that he travels to Maladimbáh once he figures out that she and the once powerful mage are currently here.
"Spare me" says the attractive elven maid who is continuing to speak in her native language "It won't show up" adds the elven spellcaster, the swordmaster Reinholt doesn't say anything to that, he just wryly smiles and shakes his head as he looks at his captor across the table from him.
Switching back to the common language, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv says "Yes, indeed he has" in reply to Mira Reinholt saying to her in the common language "He's come up with something new to take a dig at his rivals to the east?" as they resume the topic they were previously discussing.
The human spellcaster from south of the equator says "Well if you want any information" the once powerful mage then nods at his guards Harrick and Ginden then continues with "Have them go over to the Walashàelé's tower, and that town at the river crossing they run" the mage Reinholt then adds "Apparently the Walashàelé's couldn't care less about Harrick and Ginden, and what they do and see, just like your father's people here".
The attractive elven maid slowly nods, for that's not a bad idea, for the two mercenaries are free to go where ever they want, as the elves here, and in much of the principality of Maladimbáh, don't exactly care what humans, and any other races, who happen to be in the principality get up to.
Kaldeàlil Haldéilv is just about to say something about that, when Ginden interrupts the conversation between the two spellcasters as he says "What's this?" the younger of the two mercenary guards nods to the balcony outside, and he adds "Something's got their interest".
They all look out through the wide glass windows, and see the two house guards out on the balcony, are now standing next to each other, and are talking about something, while one of them is pointing at something away to the southwest.
After a few moments as they look that way, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv says "Wyverns, two of them" the three humans lift their eyebrows at hearing that, for they've learnt that the wyverns from the nomads plains avoid the mountains of Maladimbáh because of the griffons that the elven nobility have. Infact there's a griffon on top of this very tower, who they hear letting out a squawk as it too has spotted the wyverns.
Then there's the fact that the wyverns who have their hatching grounds in the east of the nomads plains, avoid the mountains of the elven principality, due to the fact that there's apparently an actual dragon that dwells somewhere in these mountains.
Kaldeàlil Haldéilv who knows that seeing the two wyverns heading in this direction, can only mean one thing, says "Riders from the coastal city of Falnic".
Mira Reinholt, who like the two mercenaries Harrick and Ginden is unable to see the wyverns at the moment, as they're too faraway for their eyesight to spot them, says "Are these ones coming to see your father?" he pauses before adding "Or to visit his neighbours?" . . . . . .

Wonderful 25.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Mira Reinholt the mage gets up off the bed he's been having a nap on, and makes his way over to the large open windows that face south. It's early evening, and even though it's summer, the weather is cloudy and cold here in the mountains of the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
Looking out the windows of the castle like tower that's been his prison since arriving here in Maladimbáh nearly a month ago, the once powerful mage gets a pretty clear view away to the south, while behind the tower to the north, are the snow capped mountains of the elven principality.
Even with a cloudy dusk, the Vexilian mage in exile can see for miles upon miles to the south, beyond the foothills below, and past them to the nomads plains further to the south.
With the daytime being very warm here in the mountains, the mage Reinholt would hate to think how hot it is out on the vast nomads plains during the day, he figures it would be extraordinarily hot.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, steps out of the wide doors to one side of the windows, and out on the balcony, the mage who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, takes a few steps to stand beside the balcony garden.
Mira Reinholt glances to the left and the right, and sees two of his guards, one at either end of the balcony. The mage who was once the most powerful of his kind of his generation, to be found anywhere in the Southlands. Quickly strips a couple of small leaves off one of the plants in the garden.
The exiled Vexilian mage feigns a yawn after sticking the leaves in his mouth without either guard seeing him do so. And though the leaves taste absolutely disgustung and acrid, he chews them thoroughly, then swallows them as he moves forward, and leans on the balcony rail, and looks all around him in the fading light of the early evening.
The highly skilled swordmaster looks down to the base of the escarpment the tower is upon, down there is a small village, which is indicative of the settlements found throughout the principality of Maladimbáh. There are no large towns or cities throughout the elven principality, just hamlets, villages, and small towns, all close to the castle, and keep like towers that belong to the elven nobility.
In the fading light, the mage Reinholt looks away to the east, where a half a dozen miles away, he can just make out another tower, at the end of a mountain valley. There's a small town near it, at a river crossing. The once powerful mage has learnt that the two nobleborn families who live fairly close to one another, don't exactly get along.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster stands outside until it's properly dark, and turns and makes his way back inside, glancing at the plant in the balcony garden, that he's been eating the leaves from when he can.
Mira Reinholt, who when he was younger, and lived on the far eastern coast of the continent, where for a couple of years he worked as an apothecary. Identified the plant from memory, and has been sneaking leaves off it and eating them for a reason. They lessen the effects of the potion he's still being forced to take.
The once powerful mage still can't reach his magic, but the side effects are no longer taking a toll upon him, though he has to keep up the ruse that they are.
Once inside, and he's lit a few lamps with a taper, the door to the large open room opens "Mage" says Harrick as the Vexilian mage in exile puts a log of wood on the fire. "Mage" says Ginden who follows Harrick into the room, the two of them are carrying trays of food and drink, and the swordmaster Reinholt nods to the two human mercenaries who have been guarding him since just after he and his captor arrived in the south of the region of Belinswae.
The three of them sit at the table in the room, and after noticing something on one of the boards on the trays, Mira Reinholt the mage says "Meat?" the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands adds "Bats?". "They are" replies Harrick who continues with "Got them from the river town down the valley to the east" he then adds "There's a few humans down there, and they go hunting in the caves in the mountains that way".
The mage Reinholt lifts his eyebrows at that, then says "Our hosts let you go down there?" the once powerful mage then adds "And their neighbours let you visit?" Harrick shrugs his shoulders, and says "We're human, they don't care about us" Ginden nods his head in agreement, and the swordmaster Reinholt dryly says "Well obviously" which causes the two mercenary guards to laugh.
As the three of them eat their dinner, which comprises of vegetables, fruit, edible leaves, berries and nuts, breads, rice and the bats that have been roasted over coals. Mira Reinholt who never thought he would ever get along with his main guards, glances outside, where he can just make out the pair of elven guards on the balcony.
The once powerful mage wonders what they think about the three humans eating meat, he figures they probably think it's disgusting, and what they would expect from typical human behaviour. The swordmaster Reinholt who is without his sword, and has been ever since he was captured in the port of Renoa in the north of the Southlands. Shakes his head, and once again wonders how the hell he has ended up here in the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
Bad fucking luck, that's how, the mage Reinholt dryly thinks to himself, the spellcaster from south of the equator then silently adds, and because of a pretty determined elf too.
"Where is she?" asks Mira Reinholt, who then adds "Fighting with her father again?" Harrick just rolls his eyes, while Ginden, the younger and larger of the two mercenaries from the south of Belinswae, sourly says "More than likely" he then mutters "I can't believe they haven't killed each other yet" both Mira as well as Harrick nod in agreement to that.
Mira's captor, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv has come home and confronted her father. And though she isn't nobleborn as such, she is an elven magic user, due to the fact that her father raped her mother. When the attractive elven maid accused him of it, he couldn't refute the evidence. For she looks the perfect mix of him and her mother, and she's almost as powerful as him magically.
Kaldeàlil who took her father's name when she was young when she discovered who he was, forced lord Haldéilv to take her in. He reluctantly agreed as he didn't want to face the shame in polite society of the crime he committed when was younger, from which Kaldeàlil came from.
He also took her in, for she agreed to help him out in his ongoing fued with his neighbours to the east, the Walashàelé family. For he needs all the help he can get in dealing with them, and their long time rivalry that includes everything from rights to land, to trade with the human townsmen in the region of Belinswae to the southwest.
The mage Reinholt who one morning after they just arrived in the principality of Maladimbáh and they took up residence in lord Haldéilv's large, keep like tower. Cheekily suggested to his captor that she leave off giving him the potion that restricts him from using his magic.
So that he'll deal with her father's rivals. That earned the once powerful mage a slap across the face.
Says to the mercenaries Harrick and Ginden "Beats me why they don't just go to war with the Walashàelé's" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster continues with "The way they go at one another, you'd think it was a damn game they're playing".
"That's how they look at it" says Harrick with a shrug of his shoulders as he puts various cheeses upon his plate, the older of the two mercenaries who has traveled to the principality of Maladimbáh a number of times, continues with "Hell, they hardly ever get into a physical confrontation, let alone a magical one" he then adds "They would rather ruin one another through their trading concerns, or by shaming them out in what they would call elven decency".
Hence, why Kaldeàlil has the upper hand over her father, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself, who after taking a sip of wine from his goblet, says "Elves from where I'm from, are a lot different than these lot here" the two mercenaries who know the mage is from somewhere south of the equator, look at him with raised eyebrows when he tells them "Last time i was in an elven principality in the Southlands, they were basically in the middle of a civil war over the succession to the throne".
"That does sound a little different than the elves here" says Harrick, Mira Reinholt nods then says "More direct" the once powerful mage then silently adds, more my style.
The three humans continue to chat as they have their dinner, with Harrick and Ginden, both typical in appearance of the people of the south of Belinswae along the coast, tan or dark skinned, with dark hair. Telling the mage Reinholt what they got up to today. The Vexilian mage in exile, who can only go down to the village below and no further, listens with interest as the two mercenaries tell him of their ride to the nearby lands of the Walashàelé family in the mountain valley to the east.
The swordmaster Reinholt who is a little sick of his gilded prison, would like to get out and about too. But he knows that won't ever happen. For he's bait for a trap, for whoever it is that will try and free him. Who Kaldeàlil Haldéilv believes will be the person she's been after for the last three years.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, knows that his captor is expecting Helbe the elven thief to find them. But he highly doubts she, along with the help of her father and his family and resources, will be able to deal with the elven princeling from Laerel in the Southlands.
That's if the thieving prince even bothers to turn up and break me free, Mira Reinholt the mage dryly thinks to himself, who then makes a face of disgust after taking a bite from a wedge of cheese, he then says "Bloody hell, what do they wash the rind of that cheese in, piss?" both Harrick and Ginden chuckle, and the younger mercenary guard Ginden says "It's why we left that one on the tray mage". "Bastards" sourly mutters the swordmaster from south of the equator, which causes the two guards to chuckle again as the exiled Vexilian mage washes the foul taste in his mouth away by drinking all of the wine in his goblet.
After they finish dinner, and they put the empty plates, cups, goblets and bowls on the trays, Harrick puts a small vial on the table infront of the mage Reinholt, and Mira opens it and downs it's contents, making a face as he does so "Tastes worse than that damn cheese" mutters the highly skilled swordmaster who then says "You would think after two months i would get used to that disgustung taste".
"Bad?" asks Harrick after he takes the empty vial and pockets it "It sure is, at least she could give it a cleaner taste" replies the mage Reinholt with a shake of his head, then says to Harrick "You should try a taste of it one day".
"Hell no mage, I've seen what it does to you" says the older of the two mercenary guards "It won't effect you, you're not a spellcaster" dryly says Mira Reinholt "Still, rather not taste how vile it is" says Harrick "Chicken" utters the once powerful mage, which causes Harrick to sourly smile and Ginden to chuckle.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster gets up out of the chair, takes a few steps, slightly stumbles another one on purpose, and leans on the table for a little bit.
"You okay?" asks Harrick, the mage Reinholt nods, and in a slow and deliberate manner, he says "Fine".
The once powerful mage makes it to the bed, stumbling once more on purpose on the way there, then Harrick says "Night mage" which is repeated by Ginden, and the Vexilian mage in exile eventually answers them with "Night" making sure to say it slowly, and drawn out.
Once the mercenaries have put out the lights, and the only light in the large room comes from the fireplace, and they shut the balcony doors, then leave. Mira Reinholt as he sits upon the bed, in the near darkness, totally unaffected by the side effects of the potion that blocks him from his magical powers, he thinks and plots, as to how he can escape from his captor if no one turns up to break him free . . . . . .

Wonderful 24.

The Nomads Plains...

The brothers Saladén and Chanük share a look, as the monster, who they've finally figured out is named Dorc. Takes another bowl of fermented goats milk, and gulps it down in a hurry, followed by a rather loud burp and a satisfying sigh.
How the monster is still awake is anyone's guess, for the amount he has drunk would a knocked out a grown man quite a while ago.
The far hunter and the tribal leader, along with the monster are sitting in one of the cuts in the ground, that the tribes camp is predominantly made up of.
The cuts are natural like trenches, being anywhere from five to more than a dozen feet deep into the ground. They're covered with a hide covering, dyed the same sandy colouring as the plains around the camp.
They're where the majority of life in the camp is conducted, though there are also a few round like tents, that resemble piles of rocks or boulders, that the tribe also uses.
The two brothers, both in their thirties, as is their other brother Xhangal, are sitting there with their faces covered with the traditional black cloth of the plains nomads. Normally worn in combat against their enemies the townsmen of Belinswae. But breaking tradition, the brothers are wearing it for the simple reason that they block out some of the stench emanating from the monster, who stinks beyond belief.
The monster Dorc, who is obviously struggling in the morning heat, turns his head so that he's looking out the connecting cutting, which leads outside, over a defile. There's a breeze coming in through that way, much to the relief of the monster, who once again starts gnawing away on the tip of the wyvern wing he's brought with him.
Both Chanük and his youngest brother Saladén grimace beneath their face coverings, as they both know, from a misspent youth, and dumb experimenting, that wyvern tastes disgustung.
Having tried it once on a dare when they were youngsters, the brothers spent a couple of days throwing up with stomach cramps, and a bad dose of the shits, when they and some of other youngsters in the tribe at the time, found a dead wyvern in the long sands, fifty miles south of where their camp is located now.
The brothers wince as the monster crunches the bones of the end of the wyvern's wing, then swallows it, then it gestures at the empty bowl, and says in the language of the townsmen in it's deep, growling voice "Got any more of that fucken shit?" it pauses, burps a smelly wyvern scented burp, then adds "It's pretty good fucken shit".
"Ah, not really" says Saladén the far hunter in the same language, he speaks the townsmen's language fluently, while his older brother the tribal leader, can understand it fairly well, isn't the best at speaking it. Though in the opinion of Chanük, he's fairly certain he speaks it just as well, or poorly depending on your point of view, as the monster does.
With a grunt of disappointment, the monster who is so large his head almost touches the hide covering above them, says to the two brothers "Where's your ponies?" it then murmurs something in contentment in what Saladén and Chanük figures is it's own language, before adding in the language of the townsmen "Cause you are the fucken pony peoples".
This subject has taken the two brothers by surprise, for they've learnt that the monster knows a bit about their people, or rather people who are exactly like the nomads of the plains.
After a bit of thought as it tried to recall things, the monster named Dorc, who is apparently an ork, which the brothers have never heard of. Informed them about what he called the hordes barbarians, who live on the tundra faraway to the south near the bottom of the world. Who according to the monster, are exactly like the nomads of the hot, arid plains. With the exception that they're horsemen, who ride ponies.
Chanük the tribes leader says to the monster in his broken townsmens language "Once we were horsemen, in the time of our grandfather's grandfathers".
His brother Saladén adds "It's been multiple generations since we were horsemen, as are most of the tribes in the north, west and south of the plains are no longer horse riders" he continues with "There's a few tribes on the eastern edge of the plains who still have horses, but from what i understand they only have very small herds, and they're dwindling every year" the far hunter then says "I suspect in a few generations, the nomads of the plains will no longer be horsemen at all".
They watch the monster who is looking to one side, down at the large sword lying beside it, as if he's listening to something, then he grunts, and he says "That fucken sucks" followed by "Dorc like pretty ponies".
"Er?" murmurs Chanük, while his brother murmurs "Ah?" as they don't know what to make of that, or for a matter of fact, a lot of what the monster named Dorc says, who is difficult to understand due to his thick accent, his deep rumbling almost growling voice, and the fact everything he says is laced with swear words.
The brothers who have asked the monster not to try and speak in their dialect, as the only words it seems to know are swear words. Not that many, often jumbled together so that they make absolutely no sense to them, or at least they've never heard anyone swear like that before.
Glance at one another, and Chanük the tribal leader says in his form of the townsmens language "Thank you again" the big green monster grunts, then says "For fucken what?" it's the younger brother Saladén who replies with "For taking care of those raiders and their wyverns, and saving the children in that ravine" the monster, the ork, waves a large, beefy hand in a dismissive manner, and tells them "It was fucken nothin".
For his part, Dorc da Orc doesn't mention that he couldn't care less at what he did. Infact he didn't particularly want to do it at all. But he was forced to do so by the large sword lying on the sandy ground beside him in the cutting that's about thirty five feet long, and about six feet deep.
Dorkindle who must admit that it's way cooler here in these cuttings in the nomads camp than it is out in the open, though not as cool as his cave. Glances down at lord Farque's sword lying beside him, who is occasionally telling him things.
The large ork would prefer if she would shut up, but he can't deny she is telling him some useful information every so often, much of which he'll probably forget anyway.
"Huh?" says the ork warleader in response to what the nomad named Saladén has just said "Oh that fucken thing" says the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks "That was a bit of a cunt to kill, but me got it good" says Dorc da Orc in reference to the sand dragon he killed a couple of weeks ago, which Saladén has just thanked him for doing.
The ork weaponsmith who had a little trouble killing the sand dragon, which though smaller than a decent sized wyvern, has far thicker natural armour, and an extremely thick skull, making a killing blow to the head very difficult indeed.
Was only able to kill the wingless creature that resembles a dragon more than a wyvern does, when he finally started swinging lord Farque's sword at it. Or more precisely, when she allowed herself to be swung at it. As Dorkindle has found out, not just recently, but also in years gone by, the sword only does what it wants to do, whenever it wants to do it, not when he wants to do something with it. And if he tries to do something it doesn't want to do, or he does something it doesn't particularly care for, it will hit him.
The two brothers briefly glance at one another as the monster scowls for some reason, well scowls in a more prominent way, as his regular look is basically a scowl mixed with an insane looking grin, which is more than a little intimidating to look at, because of how brutish looking his face is.
Then Saladén, who like his brother Chanük, and everyone else in the tribe at this camp, is concerned that townsmen have come this deep into the plains that are named after their people, asks the monster, the ork "You haven't by chance seen any other townsmen this far into the plains have you?".
Dorc da Orc waving away to the west, says "Nah, haven't seen any of those cunts in a few weeks" he continues with "Back that fucken way, heaps of miles away" the large ork pauses for a moment as he recalls something, and because lord Farque's sword reminds him of it, and he tells the two nomads "Well me did see a fucken wyvey flying away to the north, hmmmm when was that" he holds up five fingers, then adds "Seven fucken days ago".
"Was there riders on it?" asks the far hunter who is following the conversation with the monster much better than his brother the tribe's leader is doing, the monster grunts and replies in the positive, which causes Saladén to say to Chanük in their dialect "Probably going to the northeast to the mountains, to Maladimbáh"
The older brother nods his head in agreement, then he says in the dialect of the plains nomads "Damn justifiers out of Falnic are doing more and more business with the elves of Maladimbáh" the tribe's leader continues with "And the elves with them".
Both brothers sourly smile behind their face coverings, as trade between the townsmen's coastal city of Falnic and the elven principality of Maladimbáh has been limited, especially during their lifetime, and their father's and grandfathers. But of late, especially in the last few seasons, and from what they've heard, and what the monster has just told them, in the last month or so. Travel between Falnic and Maladimbáh has definitely increased.
After a few moments of silence, Chanük says in the nomads dialect to his youngest brother "Ask it how long it intends to stay in our secondary water cave" though the brothers, for some reason knew that the monster wasn't a threat to them or their tribe when they first discovered the monster living in the cave upon the nearby rise.
As it only roared at anyone who got close, or yelled and shouted at them, occasionally mock charging anyone in the tribe who got too close to the cave, until it hit itself with the large sword it carries, and ran back inside the water cave near the top of the rise about a mile away from camp.
"We were wondering, how long you were you intending to stay in the cave you've been living in?" asks Saladén in the townsmen's language, which is also known throughout the world of Volunell as the common language "Don't fucken know" replies the monster with shrug of his massive shoulders, the ork named Dorc continues with "Me waiting for a couple of cunts to show up".
The brothers Saladén and Chanük watch as the monster grabs it's right hand with it's left, and pulls it in close to it's body as he looks quickly down at the large sword lying beside him, while nervously grinning.
After a moment it, the monster grunts in what sounds like relief, then it looks at the two brothers, when the far hunter Saladén asks it "Ah, so where are these two, er, people coming from?".
The monster waves behind itself, to the north, and he says "From fucken that way" it continues with "Some fucken place called Mali, er Mala, hmmmmm Mala-dumb-bum, yeah that fucken place".
"Maladimbáh?" says Saladén in a tone of surprise, his brother is surprised too, for the elves of the principality in the mountains to the north of the nomads plains, never venture out onto the plains if they can help it.
"Yeah that's the fucken place they at" says Dorc da Orc, who isn't actually sure that's where the two people he's waiting for actually are, but that's what lord Farque's sword has told him, so that's what he's going with . . . . . .

Wonderful 23.

The Nomads Plains...

They look at the body that's just fallen out of the sky, then after the cousins Halatai and Amagin look at one another, they look up and see one of the wyverns gaining in height, screeching and bellowing in pain with a spear in it's side, while the two other riders on it, are yelling and screaming in the language of the townsmen of Belinswae.
Halatai looks at the townsmen again, and if he wasn't dead already, he is now, because Tolagin who is about twenty yards further down the ravine, and closer to the body, puts an arrow in it, shot from his bow.
Then Halatai and Amagin sees Tolagin's eyes go wide in shock and fright, before he yelps and scrambles back behind the pile of rocks he and his brother Domatai have taken cover behind.
Thinking it's the other wyvern swooping down at them, both Halatai and Amagin, as well as young Flalil who is tucked up behind them against the ravine wall, get the fright of their lives when something rather large, and very green, lands right infront of them after jumping into the dry ravine.
Halatai gasps in fright at seeing the monster from the cave standing just a few feet infront of him. He instantly regrets gasping, for he gets a clear intake of breath and smells the monster. A smell that's so disgusting, that it doesn't even compare to animal dung, or the smell of a dead carcass.
Just as the son of the tribe's leader is thinking about throwing up, the monster turns around and looks at the three cousins, and growls. Then it yells at them in what sounds like the townsmen's language, it grunts then shouts a word in their dialect "Fucks!" and makes a shooing motion with it's large right hand to a nearby overhang in the ravine wall.
The cousins Halatai, Amagin and Flalil hurry beneath the overhang, watching the monster, which has a massive sword in one hand, take a long spear, easily ten feet in length from the harness contraption on it's back, look up into the sky, roar then throw the spear, far harder than they thought possible.
It grunts and growls, then mutters something in a totally incomprehensible language, before it runs to a large rock, easily step on top of the four foot tall rock, and leap up and out of the ravine.
The three cousins beneath the overhang, along with Domatai and Tolagin further down the ravine on the otherside, hear the monster roar, then shout something, it's rather loud, it's answered by a screeching wyvern, followed a few moments later by the second wyvern.
"By the plains gods" murmurs Halatai who then exclaims "Shit!" next to him, his cousin Amagin nods his head in agreement, but is still too stunned to say anything. While all three cousins are breathing quickly in fear as they listen to what sounds like the monster fighting the tame wyverns and their riders.
They along with the brothers Domatai and Tolagin further along in the ravine hear the monster roaring and shouting, while wyverns screech and bellow, and townsmen yell and shout. A few moments later and dark red, almost black blood splatters across part of the ravine wall and floor. Halatai looks up and sees the wyvern with the spear in it's side, floundering as it passes by overheard, missing at least five feet from the end of it's tail.
A short while later and the monster lands in the ravine with a thud, it gets up off the ground shaking it's head after landing face first on the ground. Then it growls as it stumbles into the ravine wall, which it punches a couple of times, before it makes it's way up a cleft in the ravine to the open ground above. It's roaring and shouting in the townsmen's language as it does so.
"I'm pretty sure they have" quietly says Amagin who continues in dry tone with "Considering you can usually hear it roaring from the rise nearly a mile away" in response to his little sister Flalil asking him if those in the nearby camp know what's going on.
They fall silent as one of the wyverns passes quite low over the ravine, it's the wyvern with the spear in it's side, and a chunk of it's tail missing. It's right wing is bent and not flapping properly, while one of the remaining riders upon it's back, is hanging over the side, apparently lifeless, and only the straps around his waist seem to be keeping him attached to the tame wyvern.
A few moments later and the other wyvern passes overheard, this one even lower, barely above the ground as it bellows and screeches due to the monster which is hanging on to it's tail, which is swinging wildly about as the wyvern tries to dislodge the monster, which must weigh at least five full grown men, causing the wyvern to drop lower and lower to the ground.
The two cousins Halatai and Amagin share a look as they clearly heard the monster between it shouting in the townsmen's language, laughing maniacally as it hung onto the tail of the tame wyvern.
They along with young Flalil and the brothers Domatai and Tolagin hear that wyvern crash into the ground somewhere to the north of the ravine, they hear the large winged creature with wings nearly twenty five foot long a piece, bellow in pain, followed by the green monster roaring.
"Did you hear that?" calls out Tolagin from further down the ravine, he adds in a tone of disbelief "It was laughing!" Amagin replies with "We heard!" then they all listen to the monster continuing to battle the two wyverns and the remaining townsmen.
As they continue to listen to the battle they hear one of the wyverns let out an extremely loud screech of protest, which is followed by a roar from the big green monster, then Halatai slightly frowns as he hears something else, and he says to his cousin Amagin "Someone's coming".
A few short moments later one of the wyvern riders comes into view on the lip of the ravine opposite them, the townsmen is bloody and cradling one arm against his side, while he holds a sword in his other hand as he breathes heavily.
As the two cousins beneath the overhang lift their bows as the townsmen looks down into the ravine and spots them, the head of wyvern rider suddenly shatters apart. A fairly large hammer slams into the ravine wall just a bit down from the overhang as the headless body topples down into the ravine. As it does, the five children hear the monster shout something, then peel in laughter at something.
The cousins Halatai and Amagin glance at one another, and though they were ready to shoot the townsmen even though they've never shot at a person ever before. They're rather glad the monster who dwells in one of the tribes nearby water caves killed the townsmen instead.
Over the shouts and sounds of fighting between the remaining townsmen, their tame wyverns, and the big green monster, Halatai is sure he hears someone else approaching the ravine, though this time from the otherside.
Then the son of the tribe's leader hears a familiar voice call out "You two get up here!" Halatai leans out from beneath the overhang, looks up and says "Uncle down here". Saladén the far hunter looks down and sees his nephew Halatai, and his other nephew Amagin a moment later, while the two brothers Domatai and Tolagin hurry across the floor of the ravine.
Halatai and his cousin Amagin lift up little Flalil and a pair of hands grab her, and lift her out of the ravine, the two cousins then scramble over to the rocks that Domatai and Tolagin are climbing, they too are helped out of the ravine by other hunters in the tribe.
Once out of the ravine, Halatai sees that his uncle Saladén is with half a dozen other hunters and scouts, and from the tribe's camps, he sees his father Chanük coming with others, heading across the open ground on this side, the south side of the ravine.
The cousins Halatai, Amagin and Flalil along with the brothers Domatai and Tolagin look to north of the ravine, where the final throes of the battle is taking place between the townsmen and their tame wyverns, and the monster that dwells in the cave up the nearby rise.
Both wyverns are on the ground, the one with the spear in it's side, with a useless wing, and a fair portion of it's tail missing. Is on it's side, legs kicking frantically, screeching loudly, as there's another spear in it, this one low in it's belly, down near the groin. While there's a massive tear up it's belly, spilling out a lot of it's innards and guts.
Close to it is a townsmen screaming in agony, as he's impaled upon a spear that's been shoved into the ground. The townsmen in question is slowly slipping down the long spear that's been rammed up his ass and comes up through the top of his shoulder blades.
The other wyvern, the bigger of the two is a bit further away to the right. It too has a damaged wing, but it's still standing on all fours, even though it has bloody maw, and a long cut down one flank. Standing, facing it, is the monster, which roars at the hissing black wyvern.
The wyvern which has a dead rider in the saddle upon it's back, rears back on it's hind quarters, and swings it's right front claw, hitting the monster square in the chest, knocking it down.
Those watching either grimace or wince, as the hunters have all seen what the talons of a wyvern can do, easily going through armour, and ripping apart a man.
Not so the monster, who though a little wobbly, gets to his feet shaking his head, before roaring in defiance at the wyvern that towers over him.
The injured wyvern rears up again, and once more it swings it's right front claw as it hisses at the monster. Though this time the monster yells something as it swings with both hands, the large sword it has.
The black wyvern stumbles back screeching in pain as it's right fore leg goes flying through the air after it's cut cleanly off. With blood spraying over it, the monster runs forward roaring, swinging the sword in it's hands.
The wyvern tumbles onto it's side, with the front few feet of it's snout, both lower and upper jaw completely sliced away. And as it screches through it's bloody ruinous maw, the monster stabs the large sword into the wide open right eye of the wyvern, down into it's skull, killing it.
The nomads watch as the monster pulls down it's pants then take a piss on the dead wyvern as it laughs, then after pulling up it's pants, it turns and looks their way.
Halatai's uncle Saladén, a usually quiet and not a demonstrative man at all, says "Fucking hell" at what they've just witnessed. Then the monster starts walking this way, briefly stopping to stomp on the back and head a few times of a townsmen with a broken leg, who is trying to crawl away. After smashing the townsmen's head apart, the monster continues on it's way to the ravine, ignoring the other wyvern that's in it's death throes, and the impaled townsmen who is slowly dying.
As it gets closer they see the monster covered in blood, has a crossbow bolt in it's face, which it pulls out without a care in the world, then spits out a mouthful of blood, not even stopping to do so.
It gets to the otherside of the ravine, and roars at the watching nomads, who all flinch. Until the monster whacks itself in the side of the head with the flat of the blade it's holding.
After it shakes it's head, and mutters something in a totally incomprehensible language, it looks at them and grins a bloody grin, before it calls out something in what sounds like the language of the townsmen.
Chanük the tribe leader who has now joined the others and has a basic understanding of the townsmen's language, looks at his brother the far hunter "What did it say?" Saladén, who can fluently speak the language of the townsmen, though even he's found it difficult to understand what the monster just said, replies to his brother with "Ah" followed by "I think it just asked us if we've got any booze" . . . . . .

Wonderful 23.

The Nomads Plains...

They look at the body that's just fallen out of the sky, then after the cousins Halatai and Amagin look at one another, they look up and see one of the wyverns gaining in height, screeching and bellowing in pain with a spear in it's side, while the two other riders on it, are yelling and screaming in the language of the townsmen of Belinswae.
Halatai looks at the townsmen again, and if he wasn't dead already, he is now, because Tolagin who is about twenty yards further down the ravine, and closer to the body, puts an arrow in it, shot from his bow.
Then Halatai and Amagin sees Tolagin's eyes go wide in shock and fright, before he yelps and scrambles back behind the pile of rocks he and his brother Domatai have taken cover behind.
Thinking it's the other wyvern swooping down at them, both Halatai and Amagin, as well as young Flalil who is tucked up behind them against the ravine wall, get the fright of their lives when something rather large, and very green, lands right infront of them after jumping into the dry ravine.
Halatai gasps in fright at seeing the monster from the cave standing just a few feet infront of him. He instantly regrets gasping, for he gets a clear intake of breath and smells the monster. A smell that's so disgusting, that it doesn't even compare to animal dung, or the smell of a dead carcass.
Just as the son of the tribe's leader is thinking about throwing up, the monster turns around and looks at the three cousins, and growls. Then it yells at them in what sounds like the townsmen's language, it grunts then shouts a word in their dialect "Fucks!" and makes a shooing motion with it's large right hand to a nearby overhang in the ravine wall.
The cousins Halatai, Amagin and Flalil hurry beneath the overhang, watching the monster, which has a massive sword in one hand, take a long spear, easily ten feet in length from the harness contraption on it's back, look up into the sky, roar then throw the spear, far harder than they thought possible.
It grunts and growls, then mutters something in a totally incomprehensible language, before it runs to a large rock, easily step on top of the four foot tall rock, and leap up and out of the ravine.
The three cousins beneath the overhang, along with Domatai and Tolagin further down the ravine on the otherside, hear the monster roar, then shout something, it's rather loud, it's answered by a screeching wyvern, followed a few moments later by the second wyvern.
"By the plains gods" murmurs Halatai who then exclaims "Shit!" next to him, his cousin Amagin nods his head in agreement, but is still too stunned to say anything. While all three cousins are breathing quickly in fear as they listen to what sounds like the monster fighting the tame wyverns and their riders.
They along with the brothers Domatai and Tolagin further along in the ravine hear the monster roaring and shouting, while wyverns screech and bellow, and townsmen yell and shout. A few moments later and dark red, almost black blood splatters across part of the ravine wall and floor. Halatai looks up and sees the wyvern with the spear in it's side, floundering as it passes by overheard, missing at least five feet from the end of it's tail.
A short while later and the monster lands in the ravine with a thud, it gets up off the ground shaking it's head after landing face first on the ground. Then it growls as it stumbles into the ravine wall, which it punches a couple of times, before it makes it's way up a cleft in the ravine to the open ground above. It's roaring and shouting in the townsmen's language as it does so.
"I'm pretty sure they have" quietly says Amagin who continues in dry tone with "Considering you can usually hear it roaring from the rise nearly a mile away" in response to his little sister Flalil asking him if those in the nearby camp know what's going on.
They fall silent as one of the wyverns passes quite low over the ravine, it's the wyvern with the spear in it's side, and a chunk of it's tail missing. It's right wing is bent and not flapping properly, while one of the remaining riders upon it's back, is hanging over the side, apparently lifeless, and only the straps around his waist seem to be keeping him attached to the tame wyvern.
A few moments later and the other wyvern passes overheard, this one even lower, barely above the ground as it bellows and screeches due to the monster which is hanging on to it's tail, which is swinging wildly about as the wyvern tries to dislodge the monster, which must weigh at least five full grown men, causing the wyvern to drop lower and lower to the ground.
The two cousins Halatai and Amagin share a look as they clearly heard the monster between it shouting in the townsmen's language, laughing maniacally as it hung onto the tail of the tame wyvern.
They along with young Flalil and the brothers Domatai and Tolagin hear that wyvern crash into the ground somewhere to the north of the ravine, they hear the large winged creature with wings nearly twenty five foot long a piece, bellow in pain, followed by the green monster roaring.
"Did you hear that?" calls out Tolagin from further down the ravine, he adds in a tone of disbelief "It was laughing!" Amagin replies with "We heard!" then they all listen to the monster continuing to battle the two wyverns and the remaining townsmen.
As they continue to listen to the battle they hear one of the wyverns let out an extremely loud screech of protest, which is followed by a roar from the big green monster, then Halatai slightly frowns as he hears something else, and he says to his cousin Amagin "Someone's coming".
A few short moments later one of the wyvern riders comes into view on the lip of the ravine opposite them, the townsmen is bloody and cradling one arm against his side, while he holds a sword in his other hand as he breathes heavily.
As the two cousins beneath the overhang lift their bows as the townsmen looks down into the ravine and spots them, the head of wyvern rider suddenly shatters apart. A fairly large hammer slams into the ravine wall just a bit down from the overhang as the headless body topples down into the ravine. As it does, the five children hear the monster shout something, then peel in laughter at something.
The cousins Halatai and Amagin glance at one another, and though they were ready to shoot the townsmen even though they've never shot at a person ever before. They're rather glad the monster who dwells in one of the tribes nearby water caves killed the townsmen instead.
Over the shouts and sounds of fighting between the remaining townsmen, their tame wyverns, and the big green monster, Halatai is sure he hears someone else approaching the ravine, though this time from the otherside.
Then the son of the tribe's leader hears a familiar voice call out "You two get up here!" Halatai leans out from beneath the overhang, looks up and says "Uncle down here". Saladén the far hunter looks down and sees his nephew Halatai, and his other nephew Amagin a moment later, while the two brothers Domatai and Tolagin hurry across the floor of the ravine.
Halatai and his cousin Amagin lift up little Flalil and a pair of hands grab her, and lift her out of the ravine, the two cousins then scramble over to the rocks that Domatai and Tolagin are climbing, they too are helped out of the ravine by other hunters in the tribe.
Once out of the ravine, Halatai sees that his uncle Saladén is with half a dozen other hunters and scouts, and from the tribe's camps, he sees his father Chanük coming with others, heading across the open ground on this side, the south side of the ravine.
The cousins Halatai, Amagin and Flalil along with the brothers Domatai and Tolagin look to north of the ravine, where the final throes of the battle is taking place between the townsmen and their tame wyverns, and the monster that dwells in the cave up the nearby rise.
Both wyverns are on the ground, the one with the spear in it's side, with a useless wing, and a fair portion of it's tail missing. Is on it's side, legs kicking frantically, screeching loudly, as there's another spear in it, this one low in it's belly, down near the groin. While there's a massive tear up it's belly, spilling out a lot of it's innards and guts.
Close to it is a townsmen screaming in agony, as he's impaled upon a spear that's been shoved into the ground. The townsmen in question is slowly slipping down the long spear that's been rammed up his ass and comes up through the top of his shoulder blades.
The other wyvern, the bigger of the two is a bit further away to the right. It too has a damaged wing, but it's still standing on all fours, even though it has bloody maw, and a long cut down one flank. Standing, facing it, is the monster, which roars at the hissing black wyvern.
The wyvern which has a dead rider in the saddle upon it's back, rears back on it's hind quarters, and swings it's right front claw, hitting the monster square in the chest, knocking it down.
Those watching either grimace or wince, as the hunters have all seen what the talons of a wyvern can do, easily going through armour, and ripping apart a man.
Not so the monster, who though a little wobbly, gets to his feet shaking his head, before roaring in defiance at the wyvern that towers over him.
The injured wyvern rears up again, and once more it swings it's right front claw as it hisses at the monster. Though this time the monster yells something as it swings with both hands, the large sword it has.
The black wyvern stumbles back screeching in pain as it's right fore leg goes flying through the air after it's cut cleanly off. With blood spraying over it, the monster runs forward roaring, swinging the sword in it's hands.
The wyvern tumbles onto it's side, with the front few feet of it's snout, both lower and upper jaw completely sliced away. And as it screches through it's bloody ruinous maw, the monster stabs the large sword into the wide open right eye of the wyvern, down into it's skull, killing it.
The nomads watch as the monster pulls down it's pants then take a piss on the dead wyvern as it laughs, then after pulling up it's pants, it turns and looks their way.
Halatai's uncle Saladén, a usually quiet and not a demonstrative man at all, says "Fucking hell" at what they've just witnessed. Then the monster starts walking this way, briefly stopping to stomp on the back and head a few times of a townsmen with a broken leg, who is trying to crawl away. After smashing the townsmen's head apart, the monster continues on it's way to the ravine, ignoring the other wyvern that's in it's death throes, and the impaled townsmen who is slowly dying.
As it gets closer they see the monster covered in blood, has a crossbow bolt in it's face, which it pulls out without a care in the world, then spits out a mouthful of blood, not even stopping to do so.
It gets to the otherside of the ravine, and roars at the watching nomads, who all flinch. Until the monster whacks itself in the side of the head with the flat of the blade it's holding.
After it shakes it's head, and mutters something in a totally incomprehensible language, it looks at them and grins a bloody grin, before it calls out something in what sounds like the language of the townsmen.
Chanük the tribe leader who has now joined the others and has a basic understanding of the townsmen's language, looks at his brother the far hunter "What did it say?" Saladén, who can fluently speak the language of the townsmen, though even he's found it difficult to understand what the monster just said, replies to his brother with "Ah" followed by "I think it just asked us if we've got any booze" . . . . . .

Wonderful 22.

The Nomads Plains...

Dorc da Orc growls as the large sword he's holding, goes between his legs and trips him up. The ork warleader grunts as he hits the incline face first, and slides further down into the cave that he's been living in for the past couple of weeks.
"Fuckass" mutters Dorc da Orc after he spits out a mouthful of sand, the large ork glares at lord Farque's sword, but doesn't say anything to it, as it's bound to hit him again, which is more than annoying since he's the one holding it.
Dorkindle sighs, then sits up, the naked ork weaponsmith brushes some of the sand off him, then glares at the nearby pool of water, he hates that more than the sword, even though the water keeps the cave cool during the hot summer days here in the north of the nomads plains.
The large ork grimaces when lord Farque's sword tells him to put on his pants if he's going to go out and take a piss when the local tribes children are nearby watching him "Not fucken Dorc's fault they fucken pervs" mutters the warleader of the ork race, who slightly flinches as his right hand holding what he thinks is a magical sword, slightly rises up. He breathes a sigh of relief when the weapon doesn't hit him.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe gets up and wanders over to the rocks where his gear is, and puts his pants and boots on, though only after he's able to let go of the large sword that belongs to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Dorc da Orc sits down with his back against the cave wall, and not for the first time he wonders how barbarian hordesman from the southern tundra are in these hot, arid plains, north of the equator, far, faraway from the southern tundra.
Dorkindle who didn't really listen to what lord Farque's sword told him about these people who dwell in these hot, desolate plains, snorts then mutters "Fucken pony riders, that got no ponies" the large ork finds this extremely strange, as they're obviously the same people to even him, who often finds that humans all look pretty much the same to him.
The ork warleader who often sleeps during the day time, as the heat outside is just plain unbearable to him, yawns as he thinks about having something to eat, probably some of head the dead wyvern that he's placed at the top of the rise above the cave that he's living in.
The large ork is just thinking about gnawing on some of that, when he starts to doze, thinking of ponies, and what he would like to do with them, which involves him fucking a heard of them, the ork weaponsmith chortles as he starts to doze.
Ork! shouts Ryn the Sword of Power into the mind of the warleader of the ork race, Dorc da Orc wakes with a start after just a few short moments of sleep "What?" growls an annoyed weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks who finds that he's instinctively taken hold of lord Farque's sword which he placed beside him.
Dorkindle frowns as he listens to the voice in his head, the voice that's been the most prominent one by far in the last five weeks. Which is both a curse and a blessing in the opinion of the large ork. For it's shut up the other voices in his head, including the annoying voice of his 'mother', which has been a relief. Though the fact that the voice of lord Farque's sword is worse that all of the other voices that are usually banging away in his mind, kind of negates the positive aspect of the regular voices in his head being quiet.
"Alright, alright you don't have to fucken shout all the time" mutters Dorc da Orc as he gets up and grabs his weapon harness and puts it on, then he picks up the plate of natural dragon armour he wears, then he stumbles over to the sand incline that leads up to the cave mouth as the large sword tells him, in no uncertain terms to hurry up or else.
The ork weaponsmith stumbles outside into the morning sunshine, putting on the plate of dragon armour that belongs to him.
Dorkindle looks to the east and mutters "Fucken humanlings" as he spots the children who were watching him earlier, making their way to their tribes camp.
"Now fucken what?" asks the large ork, who then mutters "Not north" as the voice of lord Farque's sword tells him to look to the west and south. The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks looks that way and frowns, then he grunts and looks up into the sky that way after the voice in his head dryly tells him to look at the sky.
After a few moments, and with the advantage of his natural farsight, Dorc da Orc spots something, it's a pair of wyverns, he grunts then says "Yeah me fucken see 'em" the large ork, who at seven and half foot tall, and is around seven hundred and fifty pounds in weight, is still the largest ork of his tribe, slightly frowns as he notices something.
The wyverns aren't wild, as there's a number of riders upon their backs, and they're flying in formation. Dorkindle has seen it often enough in battle, and knows that the two wyverns and those upon them, are on the hunt for their enemy.
"Hmmmmm" murmurs the ork warleader as he first scratches his chin, then his nuts, as he thinks about something, the large ork looks east again, at the camp of the tribe of nomads, and though it matches the surroundings, Dorc da Orc with his sight, not to mention his hearing and sense of smell, can easily pick it out from nearly a mile away on the rise he's on. He then looks at the wyverns again to the west and south, and knows that from the air, the human riders won't be able to see the nomads camp, but their two wyverns will more than likely be able to if they get a good sight of it.
The ork weaponsmith, then looks back to where the children who were observing him a little earlier from down in the boulder field, are now crossing the hard packed flatland that's partway to their camp.
Dorc da Orc shrugs, then says "So fucken what?" he then winces and glances at the large sword that he's holding, afraid that it might come up and whack him as the voice in his head yells at him.
"Oh alright" mutters the large ork who sighs, as he figures it would be best to do what he's told to do, for the simple reason it would shut up the voice of lord Farque's sword for the moment, and will save him a thrashing, as the large sword knows exactly how hard to hit him, without breaking any bones, or cracking open his skull, but still hurt like hell.
With a sigh Dorc da Orc starts down the rise towards the boulder field, he grimaces and breaks out into a jog when lord Farque's sword yells at him to hurry the fuck up.
"Should we sneak a look at him late in the afternoon?" asks Amagin as the five children head back to their tribe's camp, they all know the monster rests during the day time, and is awake again around sunset. They've all seen him in the fading light of dusk, though they prefer to watch him first thing in the morning, like they have this morning. For the simple fact his antics seem to be funnier in the morning than they are at the end of the day.
"Maybe" says his cousin Halatai who like all the children, even young Flalil is keeping an eye on their surroundings as they head back to camp, the son of the tribe's leader continues with "Depends if we have to keep an eye on any of the herds i suppose".
His cousin Amagin grunts as he forgot about that, while the brothers Domatai and Tolagin nod as they too might be asked to watch some of the herds into the early evening, or if not that, then some other task. For the children of the nomads tribes work almost as much as the adults. They have to if they are to survive in the harsh environs that they live in.
Halatai as they cross the flatlands keeps a careful watch on the sands to the east where sand dragons dwell. And though the monster that dwells in the cave killed the sand dragon that's been pestering the tribe the most often of late, there are others lurking in the sand that's not all that far away.
Tolagin the oldest of the children, who also has keen eyesight, frowns as he looks back to the west, he quietly says to the others "What's that in the sky?" they all look back, and after a few moments as they look to the west and slightly south, Halatai recognizes what is they've seen "Wyverns".
The children walk a bit quicker, glancing back as they do, Domatai says "Two of them" followed by "A mating pair?" Halatai shakes his head, then quietly says "It's not the season" the children all know that the wyverns of the plains fly in flights of a handful of them, up to dozens. Or alternatively they will fly solo, the only time you see a pair of wyverns is if they're mating, and the season for that is in the late autumn, not the height of summer as it is now.
Halatai then says "Besides they're not flying like a pair about to mate" the ten year old boy who is the best with the bow and the knife amongst the tribes children, then adds "They're flying too straight and level for that" the son of the tribes leader, after a brief pause as he knows that it can only mean one thing, quickly says "Townsmen" followed by "Raiders".
"We're too far east" says Domatai as they all move a little quicker, though not at a run, because doing so might alert the keen eyesight of the approaching wyverns "Not far enough" says Halatai, who knows that Domatai is indeed correct, as they're way too far east into the plains, not to mention north, that they would ever see townsmen raiders.
Who are usually found near their own lands, either on foot, horseback, or on their tame wyverns, which are bred from wild wyverns of the nomads plains for generations upon generations.
But not this morning, as there's definitely a pair of tame wyverns flying in this direction, it's confirmed when Tolagin says "I think i see riders" as he looks back and watches the wyverns for a few moments.
The children all know that they're in trouble if they get caught out here in the flatlands, their only hope is to get into the dry ravine that leads to their tribe's camp. Though getting there before the approaching wyverns get here, might prove to be a little difficult, for Tolagin says "I think they've spotted us" they all look back, and see that the pair of wyverns are swooping downwards as they head directly this way.
Taking change of the situation, Halatai knowing that they've only got one chance of survival, yells "Run to the ravine!" the children take off running, and if the wyverns hadn't seen them already, they definitely have now, for the children hear the two wyverns screech to one another in triumph as they head down towards their fleeing prey.
As they run, Halatai is pretty sure he hears something else, but he's not to sure, as all can hear is his own breathing, his heartbeat in his ears, and the effort of the other four children with him.
The lip of the ravine is close, and the tribe's leaders son shouts "Jump" he grabs his little cousin Flalil and leaps down into the dry ravine with her as the shadow of s wyvern appears on the ground around them.
He hits the slightly sloping ground in the ravine with a grunt, barely holding onto Flalil as they, and the other children hear the loud screech of one of the wyverns, and smell it's strong reptilian like odour.
If there was ever any doubt that these were tame wyverns, that's put to rest as Halatai hears the voices of men calling out in the language of the townsmen as he along with his cousin Amagin scramble into some nearby rocks. They may not offer protection like the boulder field at the foot of the nearby rise would do, but it's the best cover available to them.
"What's that?" murmurs Halatai as he puts down his cousin Flalil, he's sure he's just heard a roar as he looks up and sees one of the wyverns rising up into the air, while out of the corner of his eye, he spots the other one swooping down towards the ravine.
Then Halatai along with his two cousins Amagin and Flalil hear, then see something totally unexpected "Huh?" murmurs a surprised Amagin, while an equally surprised Halatai murmurs "By the plains gods, what the hell?" . . . . . .