Wonderful 37.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Mira Reinholt the mage is pretty sure when he knows when the dragon dies, he hears what he can only describe as it's death throes, followed by a loud crashing sound as it falls to the ground, sounding like it took a few trees down with it as well.
The once powerful mage doesn't have to wait long, when out of the corner of his eye, he sees the same skeletal figure of a dead elf he saw earlier, come into view. Though this time it's holding it's own left arm in it's right hand, while it's skull is now at a bit of a jaunty angle.
The Vexilian mage in exile looks straight ahead as the long dead elven warrior looks at him, before dropping back down into the hole into the ground it crawled out of, then it covers itself with dirt again.
A few moments later and the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, glances the same way, and a bit further away, he spots the skeletal form of the dwarven warrior he saw earlier.
The mage Reinholt slightly shakes his head, as he sees that the ancient dwarf, who has been dead for how many years, the exiled Vexilian mage has no idea. Is now headless, and is carrying it's own skull in both of it's hands. A skull it's trying to put back on the rest of it's frame, when it falls back down into the hole in the ground it crawled up out of.
The swordmaster Reinholt faintly winces as the skull, which didn't drop back down into the hole, starts hoping on it's own accord, towards the hole in the ground the rest of it's body is in.
Then a skeletal arm pops up out of that hole, and the hand starts groping around for the skull, which it eventually finds, and pulls down into the hole, then both arms, can briefly be seen, pulling dirt down, to close the hole in the ground up.
"Fucking wonderful" murmurs Mira Reinholt the mage, who hasn't seen lord Farque raise the dead in years, and like every time he's seen it, it's more than a little unsettling to say the least.
The mage from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands gets up off the ground when he hears someone approaching "I take it, it's dead?" asks the once powerful mage "It is" replies lord Farque who has just walked around the pile of boulders.
The swordmaster Reinholt gestures to the disturbed earth nearby, and asks "Was that necessary?" the undead warlord shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders and says "Not really" he continues with "But they made it a fucking hell of lot easier to kill it" the deathlord of Farque then adds "You know how tough the fucking wyrms can be to kill".
The Vexilian mage in exile nods his head to that, for indeed he does know how hard it is to kill a dragon. For he killed one a number of years ago with lord Farque and Dorc da Orc, when it was just the three of them traveling throughout the Southlands.
Then a handful of years after that, the mage Reinholt fought another dragon, who he considered a colleague during his time in the kingdom of Druvic in the Southlands. A dragon that briefly killed Mira Reinholt, who lucky for him, was brought back to life, and into his own body too, by lord Farque, who then took down the same dragon, essentially killing it, before Helbe the elven thief along with Sephiryn the elemental finished it off in one of the main squares in the city of Leeabra, the capital of Druvic.
"Here" says the heavily armoured deathlord "Thanks" dryly says the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil as he looks at the longsword he gave to lord Farque. The weapon is at a complete right angle about halfway along the length of the blade. A blade that's no longer the dull steel colour it was before, but is now a scorched black.
"That's real useful now" dryly says the swordmaster Reinholt who takes it from the undead warlord "It is" says lord and ruler of the lands Farque who is also known as Draugadrottin by the people of his lands, he continues with "It's fire hardened by dragon flame" the lord of the death realm then adds "It's basically magical now".
"Oh?" says the mage Reinholt who then adds "What's it's magical properties?" the undead warlord tells him "It can't be broken". "It can't?" asks the once powerful mage, the heavily armoured deathlord nods his full helmed head, then the spellcaster from south of the equator, takes the bent longsword, and whacks it against one of the boulders next to them.
By the shape of fire, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself in surprise, who then quietly says "Would you look at that" as he doesn't find a single scratch or mark upon the black blade he's just whacked on one of the boulders.
"Still, it's no good being bent like that" says the mage who was once the youngest member ever of the mage council of Vexil his homeland, who then holds the weapon out to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque and asks him "Can you fix it?".
Draugadrottin takes the weapon, and taking hold of the blade, he bends it back so that it's straight again and no longer at a ninety degree angle. "Thanks" says Mira Reinholt who takes the longsword back from the heavily armoured deathlord who tells him "If you don't end up using it all the time, you can give it to that fat fuck Dorc" the undead warlord continues in a dry tone of voice with "He's been annoying as fuck for the last two and half years ever since i made him give back that magical sword to that idiot knight Percavelle".
At the mention of the large ork and the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, the swordmaster Reinholt sourly smiles, as the two of them, if they're not constantly arguing, are trying their best to kill one another. Which they try to do whenever lord Farque or anyone else, as in Mira himself, and Helbe the elven thief, who with magical means, aren't there to break the two of them up.
"Lucky those two geniuses aren't together at the moment" dryly says the Vexilian mage in exile, who thanks to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, knows that Dorc da Orc is somewhere out on the nomads plains. The undead warlord just grunts to that, then he makes his way around the pile of boulders, followed by the mage Reinholt who returns the newly blackened sword, to it's scabbard.
The spellcaster who was more powerful than any other mage of his generation in the Southlands, sees the disturbed earth everywhere, where the heavily armoured deathlord raised the dead, and as he spots the dead dragon away to the right, lying over a number of fallen trees, he asks "How'd you kill it?".
"With that sword you've got" replies lord Farque who pays no attention to the dead drake as he continues with "In it's maw as it was spraying fire all over the place, slammed that sword up through it's gullet, into the underside of it's thick fucking skull" the undead warlord then adds in a wry tone "It's how i bent the blade like that".
Hell, no wonder it got burnt black like that, the mage Reinholt thinks to himself, he knows that the sword he now possess would normally be burnt to a puddle of liquid metal by the dragon's fire, but with lord of the death realm holding it at the time, it remained intact, though ending up completely altered.
As for lord Farque, who really wished he had his own sword when he dealt to the dragon, as it would of made matters a hell of lot easier for him, says "It was" in reply to the swordmaster Reinholt asking him "Some ancient battlefield?" as he waves a hand around them, indicating the now churned up earth.
"Must of been some dwarven mountain clans living in the area ages ago" explains Draugadrottin, who continues with "Must of been driven out by the elves, most likely before they created the actual principality".
"Hmmmmm about eighteen hundred years ago" says Mira Reinholt, who then adds "Maladimbáh is about that old, learnt that when i was in that tower" the deathlord of Farque shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders, then says "The dwarves are probably the one's who i heard live in the hill country along the coast in the north of Belinswae" the undead warlord adds "The only non humans who have a decent sized community in the region".
"Strange place" murmurs the exiled Vexilian mage, who has been in a lot of strange places in his three decades of life, but for some reason, he finds the region of Belinswae to the west, which he was only in for a short amount of time, to be one of the strangest places of all.
"Of course you'd find it strange" dryly says lord Farque who points the way to go, the heavily armoured deathlord who is also known as Des'tier to an older generation of elves, who may know him, continues with "It's the lack of magic, well i should say, the lack of practitioners of magic in Belinswae that makes it so strange to you".
Probably, the once powerful mage thinks to himself, who then finds himself nodding in agreement with the undead warlord who says "And with those in the position of authority there, you've got yourself a bunch of tyrants in control of everything" the heavily armoured deathlord then adds "When you've got that, other communities tend not thrive in that type of society".
That's a bit rich coming from you, since you're the very definition of an all powerful tyrant, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself, though he must admit, lord Farque's lands, is just as diverse as anywhere else in the Southlands that has a decent sized population. And that two of the rarest races to be found anywhere in the world, water elementals and the krean are found in his lands, with it being the only place to find the winged krean.
While during his brief time in Belinswae, the Vexilian mage, who was even in the city of Falnic for a couple of days. Hardly saw goblins, who besides humans, are the most abundant people to be found anywhere in the populated areas of the world of Volunell.
As they head down through the valley as the late morning sun beats down upon the treetops and the surrounding mountains on this clear summer's day, the heavily armoured deathlord says "From what i found out in the towns and villages i stopped at in Belinswae on my way here, even a larger place like Falnic, doesn't have the same population as a city of comparable size in the Southlands, even in a smaller, backwards feudal kingdom, like Sarcrin".
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil frowns as he remembers his time in the port city of Falnic, then he nods his head and says "You're right" the once powerful mage nods again, when the lord and ruler of the lands Farque says "Population control to keep those in power, staying in power".
"Hmmmmm wonder how they're doing that?" murmurs Mira Reinholt "Pretty easy if you think about it" says lord Farque who follows that up with "A bet a shitload of them, especially the men, are killed with their raids into the nomads plains" he continues with "Those in power, those justifiers, have their own little armies, i would say as many of their guards die as they kill nomads, every time they raid into the plains" the undead warlord then adds "They probably only get the upper hand when they catch a tribe unawares, or the nomads get caught close to Belinswae".
Hell, that's probably true, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself after blinking in surprise, and as they cross a mountain meadow, and the highly skilled swordmaster sees that they're heading directly south, he asks "Where we going?" the lord of the death realm replies with "South, into the plains". "We're not going after her?" asks the Vexilian mage in exile, who knows that Kaldeàlil Haldéilv is heading west more than south "Eventually" says Draugadrottin, who then adds "We're going to get someone first".
The once powerful mage sourly smiles as he knows who they're going to get out on the nomads plains, then Mira Reinholt genuinely smiles when lord Farque, after glancing at him, says "I think you'll be able to cast again soon".
"When?" asks the swordmaster Reinholt who keeps his excitement under control, the undead warlord after looking up at the sun and it's position in the sky, says "I'd say after midday".
By the shape of fire, thank fuck for that, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself in relief . . . . . .