Aftermath 15.

The Kaldel Plains...

"Whoo" nervously murmurs Dorc da Orc as the jolly boat rocks from side to side.
The large ork grabs the gunwales with both hands, and mutters "Stay still ya cunt".
The ork warleader looks away to the left and scowls. He contemplates swearing his head off again. But no one will listen. As they're all ignoring him.
The ork weaponsmith sighs in an exaggerated manner, then he mutters "Fuck me".
The big, burly ork form the southern polar region of the world. Goes back to looking glum in the early morning light, as he sits alone in the jolly boat.
The small air boat is surrounded by water. As it's in river, which was absolutely dry yesterday just before the storm hit, but not now.
The river, which isn't more than a stream really. And isn't particularly deep, or wide. None of which matters, as it might as well be the deepest of oceans when it comes to Dorc da Orc.
As water, all water. Is an absolutely disgusting thing to the large ork, or for that matter any ork. Who as a race, have an irrational hate towards it.
Dorkindle of the wolf tribe of orks. Is just glad the small air boat has an anchor. For if not, he could be gently drifting down the stream. Which is even worse than just sitting here. Like he's doing right now.
"Keep some of the bones" says Mira Reinholt the mage in the elven language "It'll give the big fat lump something to chew on" continues the once powerful mage, who then adds "Which will shut him up, which in turn will give us some peace of mind".
Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy nods, and the elf originally from the principality of Alínlae.  Who has just dressed the two antelope that he shot yesterday. After being unable to until just before dawn. Due to the heavy rain from the storm that passed over this particular area of the Kaldel Plains since yesterday afternoon.
Now the early morning is clear, and after the spy Tanith and Darid Parsen the cavalry commander finish their butchery. They'll be off again, continuing on their way to the northeast across the Kaldel Plains.
To find the group of Tamric Drubine, Lisell Maera, Tovis the war engineer, and Beldane the cleric.
And to also find whoever it was that was responsible for bringing down the Farqian destroyer they were on the other night.
Helbe the elven thief, has already gone ahead, having left as dawn approached. Now the others with the jolly boat, are about to set off too.
Teabagger the goblin Cunt makes his way back to the edge of the stream.
The small, bright green goblin shakes his head as he looks at his general, who is still sitting in the middle of the air boat, looking more than a little moody as he looks off in the distance to the northeast.
"Boss, i mean general" says Teabagger the goblin Cunt, the large ork grunts and looks his way.
"It's not that deep general" says the commander of the goblin battalion in the armies of Farque.
"See" adds Teabagger who steps out into the stream, which is barely a foot deep, a foot and a half at the most.
The ork warleader grunts, then curls his upper lip up in disgust. Dorkindle then snorts when the small, bright lurid green goblin tells him "Maybe you could jump across?".
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks has thought about that. But even he would struggle to reach the bank on that side if he was to jump from the small air boat.
And knowing his luck around water, Dorc da Orc is certain he'd probably fall short, and get wet anyway if he was to leap from the jolly boat.
So he decides to stay in the boat, and wait for the others. Who all took shelter in the small air boat, under the spare canvas during the storm that went from yesterday afternoon, until halfway between midnight and dawn, as it swept over them.
"That everything?" asks the mage Reinholt who had just stepped away to look through his leather wrapped, brass cylindrical eyepiece.
"Everything" is the answer from Darid Parsen the cavalry commander, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy nods in agreement.
Then commander Parsen, who like the once powerful mage is a member of the personal council to lord Farque, calls out "Teabagger, give us a hand with this!".
The goblin commander makes a splash as he runs back through the steam, and hurries to the others.
Proud in the fact he keeps to his feet, and doesn't fall flat on his face.
Darid Parsen, who in actual fact, is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of the cavalry commander.
Nods for Shur Kee the monk to give them hand too. Commander Parsen doesn't even bother to ask sir Percavelle Lé Dic. As he knows the heavily armoured knight won't help.
Especially considering some of what they'll carry to the jolly boat, is for Dorc da Orc, and only Dorc da Orc.
They carry the meat, which Mira Reinholt has chilled to almost frozen in one of the packs they have. Back to the jolly boat. While wrapped up in a torn canvas. Is the offal, and quite a few bones.
And the ork warleader, who for the most part. After swearing at them all for leaving him in the jolly boat on the water. Has ignored them all.
Is all of a sudden interested in them, as he watches what they're bringing back to the small air boat with them.
"Don't say we don't ever do anything for you" says Mira Reinholt in a dry tone of voice after he climbs back into the jolly boat.
Dalinvardél Tanith, or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others, who is carrying the pack of antelope meat. Follows the Vexilian mage in exile onto the small vessel.
While Darid aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman and Shur Kee the monk, along with Teabagger. Carry the wrapped up canvas with the offal and bones across the stream. And dump it into the jolly boat. Close to the big, burly ork who hails from the frozen bottom of the world.
"That's yours" states commander Parsen to the large ork, who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks. One of the larger of the twenty tribes of orkdom.
"Ooohhh" says Dorkindle in a tone of delight as he grabs the wrapped up canvas full of bones and offal.
The others climb up into the jolly boat, with Teabagger taking another go at it, as he slips the first time, and drops back down into the water. That doesn't even come up to knee height on the goblin. Who is rather short as he barely stands five foot tall, if that.
Once the small, bright green goblin is in the jolly boat, and sir Percavelle Lé Dic is the last one onboard. Where he sits in the bow. Shaking his head in disgust as he watches Dorc da Orc shove a handful of offal into his mouth. Then proceed to gnaw on a leg bone of one of the dead antelopes.
Mira Reinholt and Dalinvardél Tanith haul up the small anchor, then the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, takes the tiller.
And after he lifts it up, the small air boat starts to lift up out of the water, and head up into the air. As away to the east, the sun continues to rise in the morning sky. On what's a clear and sunny day near the end of summer, here in this part of the Kaldel Plains.
After Shur Kee the monk trims the lone sail the way the mage Reinholt wants it.
The spellcaster, who was once the most powerful mage of his generation, in all the Southlands.
Sets sail for the northeast as they continue their journey in that direction above the Kaldel Plains. As they search for those of the group who are missing. And search for those responsible for bringing down the tri-masted destroyer they were all flying on the other night.
"Should be able to fly much further today" quietly says the mage who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil, to his fellow councillor, commander Parsen, who sits down beside him on the aft bench.
The swordmaster Reinholt, who is speaking in elven to the cavalry commander, quietly continues with "It's a steady breeze now after that storm swept through during the night".
Darid aka Zubutai Timaginson nods his head in agreement with his fellow councillor, then commander Parsen dryly says in elven "I thought that rain was never going to stop last night".
The councillor, who is a cavalry commander in the armies of Farque, nods his head down to the ground as they jolly boat continues to rise, and he quietly says "You can see how much the plains have changed already".
The exiled Vexilian mage nods his hooded head in agreement. As down below on the ground, parts of the plains have already turned green after the constant rain when the storm swept by yesterday afternoon, and during the night.
The grass on the Kaldel Plains is mostly brown during the warmer months, especially during summer. And can get quite long in places. Now as far as the eye can see. Where ever there's grass, you can see patches of green starting to show across the plains.
"Would hate to be out in a storm like that without any shelter" quietly says the mage Reinholt, his fellow councillor nods in agreement, as the spellcaster at the tiller turns slightly more to starboard once he levels out at a couple hundred feet above the Kaldel Plains as they continue to the northeast.
They continue flying throughout the early morning without any incident. Until Dorc da Orc as he chews on a hip bone of one of the antelopes that the spy Tanith shot yesterday.
Grunts, then after sniffing as he looks back from where he sits in the middle of the jolly boat. The warleader of the ork race scowls then mutters "Fucken hell".
Mira Reinholt is just about to ask the ork weaponsmith what's got his attention. When he suddenly sees Narladene the ground pixie out of the corner of his right eye.
The once powerful mage grabs a hold of the tiller again after letting it go at being surprised at the appearance of the naturally magical creature.
He looks at the tiny winged creature, who is hovering off his right shoulder. Who he assumes, correctly as it turns out. Is only visible to him.
Narladene mouths the word "Helbe" and points away to the north and east. The exiled Vexilian mage nods in understanding. And the ground pixie disappears. As she goes off to find the young elven noble who she can sense is about five miles further to the north of the small air boat that the others are in.
They sail through the air for another couple of miles when Helbe the elven thief turns up. After an argument was started between Dorc da Orc and sir Percavelle Lé Dic. Which per usual started as the two of them sat there glaring at one another.
When the large ork biffed the antelope thigh bone he was chewing on. At the heavily armoured knight. Which clipped the side of the former earl of Lé Dic's full helm with a resounding clang.
An argument that only stopped when the mage Reinholt told both the ork weaponsmith and the knight in the order of Saint Mar'che to sit back down as they were starting to tip the jolly boat to port.
And if they didn't, he'd teleport the both of them off the small flying vessel. And not down onto the ground, as he pointed higher up into the sky.
"Those two been at it again have they?" asks Helbe the elven thief as he gestures at the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. And the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic. Who have gone back to glaring at one another.
The swordmaster Reinholt responds to that with just a sour looking smile, then the spellcaster who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil, asks his fellow councillor, the elven magic user "What is it?".
Switching to the elven language, the elven masterthief quietly tells his fellow councillors Mira Reinholt and Darid Parsen "Narladene's found them" followed by "The ones who took down the destroyer".
The young elven noble who is from the island principality of Laerel, infact he's a member of the royal family that rules that elven principality.
Explains to the once powerful mage and the cavalry commander that the ground pixie stayed behind at the crash site. Where she observed those who were responsible for bringing down the Farqian warship. Show up again through a rift yesterday morning.
After telling his fellow councillors what those responsible for knocking the tri-masted airship out of the sky the other night, were doing. He then tells them who they are.
"Wreckers?" says the mage Reinholt in a tone of surprise, who then adds "Salvagers?" using the other name that wreckers are often known by.
"That they are" quietly says the young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel "A crew of illegal wreckers, more than two hundred of them" adds the highly talented elven magic user.
"That's just a few more than us" dryly says Darid aka Zubutai Timaginson "Nothing we can't handle I'm sure" says the elven masterthief, who also happens to be a master assassin, and a master archer.
"You hope" dryly says the cavalry commander, who was previously a foot soldier in the army of lady Linara Lé Dic in the kingdom of Druvic. Until he died, and his body was taken over by the hordes outrider from the southern tundra.
The elven princeling flashes a smile, then he says "I know so" he briefly pauses, then he adds "Because Narladene has found out exactly where they're are".
"Oh?" says the Vexilian mage in exile, who then asks his fellow councillor who is from the island principality of Laerel "Where exactly?".
"In a couple of villages to the northeast" is the reply from the elven magic user "The direction we're going" continues the elven master assassin who then adds "That's where they're based".
Mira Reinholt nods his hooded head, then he asks his fellow spellcaster who is all in white, while he's all in black "How far away?".
Prince Helbenthril Raendril slightly winces, then after a brief pause he says "Nearly seven hundred and fifty miles from the crash site".
"Hell" mutters the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, while next to him, the cavalry commander, Darid Parsen grimaces.
"That's still more than six hundred miles away from where we are now" says the mage Reinholt "It is" says Helbe the elven thief, who after a slight pause, continues with "But look on the bright side, it'll give us plenty of time to try and find Tam and the others".
Both the swordmaster and the cavalry commander sourly smile at that, then Darid aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman dryly says "It'll also give us plenty of time to not find them as well".
"That is a possibility" says Helbe the elven thief in a dour tone, then the elven princeling adds "That's why I've sent Narladene out to see if she can locate them".
The once powerful mage nods his hooded head, then murmurs "That's something i guess" as he knows the naturally magical creature has the best chance of any of them, of finding the four members of the group who are missing.
"All we can do is keep heading northeast and hopefully continue to get favourable winds" says Mira Reinholt, his fellow councillors Helbenthril Raendril and Darid Parsen nod in agreement with him . . . . . .