Wonderful 113.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Helbe the elven thief lifts an eyebrow, and looks at Narladene the ground pixie who is perched upon his right shoulder. "Someone set off one of her traps" whispers Narladene the ground pixie.
The young elven noble from the principality of Laerel who is floating about twenty feet off from the long balcony of the suite where Mira Reinholt the mage was held as a prisoner. Nods his hooded head as he goes back to watching Kaldeàlil Haldéilv the elven magic user through the balcony doors to the suite.
The attractive elven maid who is the illegitimate daughter of lord Haldéilv, is frowning as she stands behind a large table in the main room of the suite, looking towards the door that opens up to the hallway beyond.
"Ah i see" murmurs Narladene to the elven masterthief, the tiny winged creature continues in a whisper with "Mira isn't too far from the front door of the suite, so little Kai, er lord Farque must be setting off her traps that are intended for you".
The naturally magical creature hops off the right shoulder of the elven princeling, and wings her way to the edge of the balcony, that she briefly touches, before heading back to the right shoulder of the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel. "Yep" whispers Narladene, who then adds "It's Farque alright".
"Ha!" chortles Dorc da Orc, who then adds "It looks like fucken elf soup" the large ork who isn't particularly fond of elf meat, does murmur "Mmmmm elf soup" and licks his lips and starts to drool, as they look at the bloody mess that's the remains of the elven maid that lord Farque threw towards the door of the suite where Mira Reinholt was once held as a prisoner.
The undead warlord continues on his way, and while the mage Reinholt stays where he is, the ork warleader steps by the Vexilian mage, intending to follow the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Jaŕg" says lord Farque without looking back. Dorc da Orc grunts, and immediately stops and stays put after hearing the word Stay in the ork language from the heavily armoured deathlord.
Draugadrottin as he's also known by the people of his lands far to the south of the equator, stops just short of the bloody gore that's the remains of one of Kaldeàlil Haldéilv's hired mercenaries. The lord of the death realm looks to the end of the hallway, where on the left side as he looks down it, there's a corridor up against the south facing side of the tower, that joins the long hallway.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque makes a shooing motion with his left gauntleted hand after nodding his full helmed head to the two people glancing around the corner where the long hallway and the corridor meet.
Stepping back, and then turning, Riley Hait the mercenary ranger quietly says to the others "Back". Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy nods his hooded head in agreement, and is already moving back down the corridor.
"What is it?" quietly asks Lisell Maera "I don't know" is the quiet reply of the ranger Hait who shrugs his shoulders, then the mercenary ranger who was raised and trained in the elven principality of Envadarlen in the Southlands, says "And i don't want to know" he then silently adds, especially after seeing what that last spell did.
Seeing the ranger Hait and the spy Tanith back away from the corner, then sensing them and the others with them backing away down the corridor they're in. The undead warlord picks up the sword of the disguised elven mercenary from amongst the pool of blood, and her body parts. Well what's left of her body parts, which isn't much.
The heavily armoured deathlord walks forward, as he walks through the bloody gore splattered across this part of the hallway floor, he throws the sword.
The blade slams into the floor, point first, just a few paces short of the large door to the suite that the mage Reinholt was held prisoner in two weeks ago, which Kaldeàlil Haldéilv and a number of her mercenaries are now in.
There's a slightly pause, then lines of energy shoot from the floor, ceiling, and the walls to either side of the large doors of the suite, and opposite it.
There's a multitude of them, and they crisscross themselves, making a grid pattern the width and height of the long hallway about twenty feet to either side of the large doors to the suite where the mage Reinholt was held as a prisoner just two weeks ago.
The lines of energy expand along the hallway, black scorch marks score into the floor, walls and ceiling as it expands down the hallway towards the south facing end, and towards where lord Farque stands.
Though the heavily armoured deathlord doesn't stand there for long, he's already moving down the hallway, and the grid lines of energy at this end approach him.
The undead warlord steps into the lines of energy. They seem to snap off and attempt to wrap around the lord of the death realm, and though they reform from the walls, floor and ceiling. Those that try to wrap around the lord and ruler of the lands Farque disappear.
Draugadrottin continues walking as the lines of energy continue to expand along the hallway in both directions. The deathlord of Farque stops just short of the sword that he threw.
While the grid pattern of energy lines stops a few paces short of where the corridor along the south facing side of the palace like tower meets the long hallway. And in the other direction, it stops a few yards short of where Mira Reinholt stands with Dorc da Orc.
The heavily armoured deathlord holds up a gauntleted hand when he looks back at his fellow travelers from the Southlands, the once powerful mage nods his hooded head in understanding.
"We wait" Mira Reinholt the mage murmurs to Dorkindle, who grunts a disgruntled grunt as he would rather be moving along, until the Vexilian mage in exile quietly tells him "That grid of energy would kill us, no way could a barrier spell of mine protect us from it" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster silent adds in a dry tone, i could if i still had all my powers.
The ork warleader grunts again, and mutters "Magicky shit" as he stands there with the mage Reinholt as they watch lord Farque and wait for him to give them the signal to continue on.
Inside the large suite where Mira Reinholt was held prisoner, and freed from on the night exactly two weeks ago. Kaldeàlil Haldéilv the elven magic user mutters "Someone's setting off my traps for him".
The mercenaries Linden and Harrick who are closest to where the attractive elven maid stands behind the large table where they used to sit down and have meals with their former prisoner the mage Reinholt. Glance at one another, then look at the illegitimate daughter of lord Haldéilv, and Harrick the mercenary guard quietly asks her "Everything going alright".
"Maybe" is the murmured reply of Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, who wished she knew of a viewing spell she could remotely look through. She knows such a spell exists, she just hasn't found it in any book or tome she's read.
If she did, she would of placed it out in the hallway, so she could watch what's happening out there where she has set a number of traps for her quarry, prince Helbenthril Raendril.
The elven magic user, who sensed her former prisoner Mira Reinholt close by in the long hallway, wonders if he's setting off her traps. She can't sense him anymore, and Kaldeàlil suspects he's either holding his power within himself, or one of her traps has taken care of the mage from south of the equator.
"Nope" dryly murmurs the attractive elven maid as she senses another of her set spells out in the hallway beyond, suddenly being released.
Fire bursts into air and envelopes lord Farque as he takes a step forward. The fire swirls around and becomes a man sized ball that encompasses the undead warlord, who stands amongst it without it affecting him.
The heavily armoured deathlord sticks his raised hand out of the swirling ball of fire that surrounds him, and he make a beckoning gesture towards him.
Dorc da Orc doesn't hesitate, even with the grid lines of energy still just a few yards infront of him and the mage Reinholt, the large ork takes a step forward.
The next moment, the lines of energy disappear, and the once powerful mage from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands sets off with the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
The two of them from south of the equator don't walk too fast as they continue on their way to where the lord and ruler of the lands Farque stands amongst a swirling maelstrom of fire.
Dorkindle drools excessively as they walk through the bloody remains on the floor of the elven maid lord Farque threw down the hallway. Then the ork weaponsmith and the highly skilled swordmaster stop a dozen paces short of the heavily armoured deathlord in the midst of the swirling cloud of fire, that's putting out tremendous heat, that causes a sour looking Dorc da Orc to sweat profusely, and for Mira Reinholt to break into a sweat too.
Then the temperature returns to normal as the swirling flames around the lord of the death realm disappears. He holds up a gauntleted hand once more, and the once powerful mage and the warleader of the ork race stay where they are. They watch as the lord and ruler of the lands Farque reaches down, lean forward and touch a slab of the floor infront of the large doors where the mage Reinholt was held prisoner a couple of weeks ago.
They don't see the lord of the death realm move next, what they do see is wall opposite the door, and the ceiling directly above the width of the door, explode out and down.
The debris stays in that confined space, smashing into the floor as it sprays in that set area. Though surprisingly it doesn't damage the large doors to the suite.
Lord Farque stands just back from the debris, and the dust in the confined area infront of the large doors. He turns and gives a few hand signals. Dorc da Orc grunts, and nudges Mira Reinholt, who stumble a few steps. Who once he steadies himself, he sourly looks at the large ork, who stands there with his eyes closed, and has his hands covering his ears.
The Vexilian mage in exile quickly does the same thing when he sees lord Farque step onto the debris, and reach out to the handle of one of the doors to the suite.
Bolts of lightning shoot forth from the door and strike the undead warlord after he touches the door handle, there's a peel of thunder that shakes the long hallway as bolts of lightning continue to strike the heavily armoured deathlord.
Who finally lets go of the door handle after he's set off the final lightning bolt spell that was triggered when he touched the door handle. The lord of the death realm steps off the rubble.
Mira Reinholt opens his eyes, and finds lord Farque standing infront of him and Dorkindle. After whacking the large ork on the arm, forcing the ork weaponsmith to drop his hands from his ears, and open his eyes, Draugadrottin whispers to the once powerful mage "I'm going to open the doors".
"There's a rift on the doors, on the otherside" continues lord Farque in a whisper, who then adds "We're going to go through it".
"Where's it go to?" whispers the mage Reinholt with a frown upon his face, and the deathlord of Farque tells him "I said we're going to go through it, not into it".
Fuck! the once powerful mage thinks to himself in alarm as he knows exactly what the undead warlord means. It's something he's heard about, and never experienced, as you tend to end up dead if you attempt it.
The Vexilian mage in exile would rather go through a miscast rift/void again than do what the heavily armoured deathlord is suggesting.
"Fuck me" Mira Reinholt mutters under his breath when Des'tier gestures for him and Dorc da Orc to follow him up onto the rubble.
The shape of fire protect me, the once powerful mage repeatedly chants to himself in silence as he steps up onto the rubble, and lord Farque takes a hold of his left arm, and whispers "Hold on tight".
Draugadrottin grabs the large ork who is on his otherside of him by the right arm, and quietly says in the guttural language of the orks "Hold on tight cunt".
"Huh fucken why?" quietly asks Dorc da Orc in his native language as he stands there in the vice like grip of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque "Because we're going for a fucking ride" quietly says Draugadrottin in the ork language. Then lord Farque kicks open the large doors to the suite . . . . . .