Sir Percavelle Lé Dic yawns loudly, while next to him on the bench, Helbe the elven thief continues to eat his late night meal, while trying to stay awake.
In one corner of the room, Tamric Drubine is fast asleep on a camp bed. While closer to the fireplace, Lisell Maera has just fallen asleep on a rug on the floor.
It's the first time the four of them have been in the same place in some time this winter.
They're in a mountain village in the east of the Omban clanhold. A village that has a large dwarven army camped in and around it at the moment.
The four of them from the Southlands have taken over one of the houses that the villagers abandoned when they moved away at the start of Winter to the safety of the Omban mountainhold.
The residents of the village will soon return now that the enemy have pushed out of the Omban clanhold. While those further east in the Stone Hills will hardly take their time to come this way as they've got other things on their mind.
The heavily armoured knight, who has taken off his helm, greaves, and gauntlets, goes to lift his mug, and finds it empty.
The earl of Lé Dic who is tired, looks at the pewter jug in the middle of the table, and wonders if it's still got any more ale in it.
It takes him a few moments to find out, as he sits there yawning before he reaches out for the jug, and finds that it contains a bit of ale.
He gets half a mug from it, and after yawning again, the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, takes a sip from it.
"My fine pointy eared fellow, i must admit I'm absolutely pooped" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic in a tired tone of voice, Helbe the elven thief as he methodically chews a mouthful of stewed vegetables, nods his head in agreement.
As the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic in the Southlands yawns again before taking another sip from his mug. The elven princeling uses a chunk of bread to soak up the sauce in the bottom of his bowl.
After finishing the small loaf of bread, and the slices of cheese on the trencher at his elbow. The elven magic user turns his head slightly to one side.
Even in his tired state, sir Percavelle notices this, and asks the young elven noble "What is it my light fingered taker of precious things?" as he figures the elven masterthief has heard something over the strong wind that's blowing outside.
"Wyvern coming in" says Helbe the elven thief, who continues with "It's just about to land".
"Him?" asks the knight, who still thinks of himself as a Paladin, even though he was stripped of the rank from those in his order, when he took off a number of years ago on an unsanctioned quest, taking one of their holy relics with him.
"Not sure" says the young elven noble from the principality of Laerel in the Southlands, a few moments later the grandson of Prince Raendril, after seeing Narladene the ground pixie appear on his right shoulder, and nod, says to the nobleborn knight "Him".
The former knight of the first rank in the order of Saint Mar-che grunts. Then the two tired Southlanders stare at the door that opens up to outside, and wait.
It's not long before the door opens, and lord Farque steps inside. The heavily armoured deathlord closes the door behind him, quickly before too much of the heat from the fireplace escapes outside.
Neither Tam or Lis wake up when the undead warlord enters and makes his way over to the table, where he sits down on the sole chair in the room, that's at one end of the table.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque who has to duck down as he walks through the room. Slightly pauses as the chair he sits on, creaks under his weight. He shrugs his heavily armoured shoulders then looks at the jug in the center of the table.
"Tis said to say my lord, it's empty" says sir Percavelle as he notices the large, heavily armoured figure at the end of the table looking at the pewter jug.
"Figures" dryly says lord Farque, who gets up, and taking the jug with him, and ducking down so he doesn't hit his head on the ceiling, he makes his way to the far end of the room, to the work bench there, next to which is a small barrel.
The undead warlord takes a mug from the bench, and dips it in the barrel of ale. He also dips the jug in the barrel, filling it up. With full mug and jug, the deathlord of Farque returns to the table.
Through a yawn, sir Percavelle tops up his mug from the jug that the lord and ruler of the lands Farque has just filled up.
The nobleman from south of the equator is about to take a drink, when prince Helbenthril Raendril nudges him in the side.
The earl of Lé Dic is about to admonish the young elven noble, when out of the corner of his eye, he sees lord Farque lifting up the visor of his full helm.
The heavily armoured knight looks quickly towards a corner of the room, while next to him, Helbe the elven thief is staring at the fire.
On the elven spellcasters right shoulder, Narladene the ground pixie suddenly finds something interesting about the weave of the elven masterthief's cloak she's sitting on.
She stares at that, as she and Helbe the elven thief and sir Percavelle Lé Dic don't look in the direction of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
After hearing the undead warlord close the visor of his helm after having a drink, the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel finally looks over at the heavily armoured deathlord, and asks him "Find anything?".
Lord Farque nods his full helmed head then says "A bit" the lord of the death realm who has been gone since before first light this morning, continues with "Seems the army of that Justifier Kaellin is moving south" he then adds "Looks like they're going to leave the Yalkin clanhold".
Realising that there's probably only one thing that could of caused this, because the mage Kaellin's army has been so entrenched in the Yalkin clanhold for weeks having defeated the Yalkin warriors in two decisive battles this winter.
Helbe the elven thief says "You think it's worked?" then remembering who he's sitting next to, the princeling from Laerel switches to the elven language and adds "You think Dorc and Riley have got their army?".
Next to the elven magic user, the nobleborn knight is sitting there dozing as he holds his mug of ale. He wouldn't of noticed if the elven masterthief said Dorc da Orc's name in the common language anyway.
"It would seem so" says the undead warlord in the elven language, he continues with "Cause there's no way that fucking mage would give up that position he had in the Yalkin clanhold otherwise".
The young elven noble nods his head, then after glancing at the dozing earl of Lé Dic beside him, casts a spell on the heavily armoured knight to go and lie down at get some sleep.
The elf from south of the equator says to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque "Wonder how many more of their armies head back to Belinswae?".
"We'll find out soon enough" says lord Farque who continues with "We'll check on them over the next few days".
Sir Percavelle gets up, and makes his way over to his things. The knight in the order of Saint Mar-che who is sleepwalking, bumps his head on the low ceiling quite a few times, doesn't wake, and instead takes off the rest of his armour. Stacking it in a pile on the floor, then taking his bed roll and a blanket. He moves closer to the fireplace that Lisell Maera is sleeping infront of. Lies down on his bed roll, covers himself with his blanket, and falls to sleep properly fairly quickly.
All the while the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic has been doing this, lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief have continued their conversation.
Glancing over and seeing that sir Percavelle has finally put himself to bed, the elven master assassin after quietly yawning, asks the heavily armoured deathlord "Should we attack them as they fallback?".
"Not now, maybe later" says the undead warlord, who is also known as Draugadrottin by the people of his lands, he continues with "Best to let them travel south through the mountains unhindered for a bit" he then adds "We'll start attacking them further south in the foothills, once they're nearly back in Belinswae".
"Any reason why?" asks the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel "To get them to hurry the fuck up" replies the lord of the death realm, who then adds "Though more importantly for the benefit of the dwarves, to lift their spirits as they see that they've driven the enemy out of their homeland".
The elven masterthief nods in understanding, then after yawning again, he looks at the large, heavily armoured figure sitting at one end of the table, who tells him "In the meantime, that mage is sending some of his guards south via rift" the undead warlord adds "I sensed it as i was flying around today".
"You want me to find him and get rid of him?" asks the elven master assassin, who was always intending to kill the mage Kaellin the further east they made their way through the Stone Hills aiding the various dwarven clans who have been under attack this winter.
"Would be best, but not for little while" says Draugadrottin, who then dryly adds "We actually want his army out of the mountains fairly quickly, killing him too soon could turn their fallback into a fucking shambles".
"There is that" says a yawning Helbenthril Raendril, who takes the mug sir Percavelle was drinking from, downs the ale that's left in it, then says to the undead being who is known as Des'tier to an older generation of elven kind in the Southlands "I need some sleep".
The deathlord of Farque nods his full helmed head, and the young elven noble gets up, slightly ducking his head so he doesn't hit the ceiling in the dwarven house, he makes his way over to his gear.
Where he gets his bed roll and blanket, the elven magic user is too tired to cast again, picks up couple of pieces of wood and tosses them into the fireplace after he spreads out his bed roll.
The elven princeling is soon asleep as he lies near where Lisell Maera and sir Percavelle are sleeping.
At the table, lord Farque looks at the three of them, then at Tamric Drubine who took possession of the camp bed first, and is sleeping on it in a corner of the room.
The heavily armoured deathlord then beckons over Narladene the ground pixie who is sitting on Helbenthril Raendril's bed roll and staring at the fire. The lord and ruler of the lands Farque quietly tells the tiny winged creature something in the ground pixie language.
The naturally magical creature nods her head in understanding, then she sinks down through the table, then into the floor, and then the ground beneath the house near the center of the dwarven village perched on the side of a low mountain.
The ground pixie is soon quickly heading east and south as she does something for the undead warlord.
Meanwhile back in the house, lord Farque lifts the visor of his full helm, and slowly drinks the remaining ale in the pewter jug on the table. The lord of the death realm sits at the table throughout the night. Then is gone by the morning when the others wake up.
As he helps Lisell Maera prepare breakfast, Tamric Drubine looks around and asks "Anything happen last night?". Helbe the elven thief informs him, as well as Lis and sir Percavelle what lord Farque found out yesterday.
"So their other armies have started falling back through the mountains to Belinswae" quietly says the nobleborn youngster from the kingdom of Sarcrin in the Southlands, Tam then asks "Are we going to follow?" he then adds "Keep up the fight?".
Ignoring sir Percavelle Lé Dic who snorts then says "Of course" as he polishes his armour with a soft cloth. Prince Helbenthril Raendril tells the former heir to castle Drubine "Eventually".
The young elven noble looks at Tam, then the orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury, and finally the earl of Lé Dic, and he says to the three of them "After all, they wanted a war, so they're going to keep getting one" . . . . . .
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