Aftermath 71.

The Kaldel Plains...

Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy and sir Percavelle Lé Dic show up first, after making their way through the village to get to the village green where the others are.
The elf from the principality of Alínlae and the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
Didn't run across many of the remaining illegal wreckers. As a good lot of them have started to flee now that most of their leaders are dead. And those that aren't dead, have been captured.
When Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin notices that Darid Parsen the cavalry commander isn't with the others as they stand out the front of the badly damaged two storey house at the northwest corner of the village green. And mentions this to the others.
Lisell Maera points, and tells him that's the cavalry commander. The elven spy grimaces when he spots the bits and pieces of body parts that was commander Parsen.
It takes a few moments for sir Percavelle Lé Dic to realise the same thing. And when he does, the heavily armoured knight grimaces too.
Next to show up a little bit later is Dorc da Orc. The large ork who is bleeding all over the place. Has a torn cloak wrapped around his neck and throat. And another one wrapped around his left leg.
While over his left shoulder, is the unconscious form of one of the illegal wreckers. The tall plainsman by the name of Pallen, who is a blademaster.
While over the right shoulder of the big, burly ork who is from the southern polar region of the world.
Is the cloak wrapped body of Teabagger the goblin Cunt.
When any of the others try to speak to the ork warleader, he just growls at them.
Dorkindle walks to the front of the badly damaged two storey house. Where he dumps the unconscious blademaster Pallen next to the other unconscious plainsman on the ground. The leader of the crew of illegal wreckers, Arvelle.
Then the large ork leans back against the front of the house, and with the cloak wrapped, dead body of the goblin commander now in the crook of his right arm.
Dorc da Orc watches the stripped down airships across on the south side of the village green, continue to burn down to the ground.
The last to show up is Helbe the elven thief, along with Narladene the ground pixie.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel after watching some more of the illegal wreckers flee from the village after he came back from further east on the plains.
Appears out of thin air on the village green. The highly talented elven magic user glances towards the burning airships.
One that's basically burnt to the ground, while the second is still blazing away, this cold, though sunny and fine day here in the northeast of the Kaldel Plains.
The elven masterthief makes his way over to the others who are standing out the front of the badly damaged two storey house that was the abode of the leader of the crew of illegal wreckers.
The young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel. After looking at the two unconscious plainsmen lying on the ground next to the front door.
Then slightly frowns when he sees the small, cloak wrapped figure of the dead goblin commander in the arms of Dorc da Orc.
He frowns again when he notices that Darid Parsen the cavalry commander isn't with the rest of the group.
The elven master assassin looks at Mira Reinholt the mage, and nods his hooded head for the once powerful mage to follow him.
The two spellcasters, members of the lord Farque's personal council. Walk a bit away from the rest of the group.
"Where's Zubutai?" quietly asks Helbe the elven thief in the language of the elves "I mean Darid" adds the elven princeling.
"There" is the quiet reply of Mira Reinholt the mage, who then sourly adds "Scattered across the village green".
Prince Helbenthril Raendril looks to where his fellow spellcaster and council member has nodded.
Then the elven magic user grimaces as he sees the body parts that was Darid Parsen the cavalry commander.
While on his right shoulder, invisible to all but him. Narladene the ground pixie grimaces too when she sees the remains of Darid aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman strewn across some of the village green.
"What happened?" asks the elven master archer "That mage of their's got him" says the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
"You take care of him?" asks the elven princeling from Laerel who was chased most of the morning by a mageglobe that was created by the mage who was an illegal wrecker.
"I helped" replies the mage who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil "But it was Beldane" continues the mage Reinholt, who then adds "The cleric, who took care of that mage".
Mira Reinholt, who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, gestures towards a body lying out on the village green, then says "There he is".
The elven masterthief in the white hooded cloak, nods when he sees the dead body of the mage named Samiel, who was the most powerful of the spellcasters amongst the illegal wreckers.
Then the elven master assassin looks beyond where the bodies of the two unconscious plainsmen lie near the front door of the badly damaged two storey house.
To where Dorc da Orc is leaning back against the front of the house, staring at the airships on the south side of the village green, one that's now just a smouldering shell. While the other is still well and truly ablaze.
"What happened there?" quietly asks Helbe the elven thief with a nod of his hooded head to where the large ork is standing, completely ignoring everyone else.
"The little goblin was killed" quietly explains the Vexilian mage in exile, who continues with "And the big lump when into that ork blood rage of his".
Both the elven magic user, and the ground pixie that's on his right shoulder, wince when they hear that.
"Who the hell knows how many of them he killed during that" quietly says the highly skilled swordmaster, who then adds in a slightly dry tone "Probably a lot".
Then the mage Reinholt says "He turned up not that long ago, bleeding like a stuck pig, carrying the dead goblin and that plainsman he caught".
Prince Helbenthril Raendril slightly nods, then quietly says "Those wounds of his might need to be checked" as he looks at the blood soaked cloaks wrapped around the large ork's throat and neck, as well as one around his left leg.
"They look bad, even for him" adds the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel.
"He'll be fine" quietly says the human council member, who continues with "Anyone else would of bled out ages ago, but not him" the Vexilian mage in exile follows that with "Besides he's just ignoring everyone, and when you try to speak to him, all he does is growl" he briefly pauses then adds "He doesn't even swear at you if try to speak to him".
"That doesn't sound good" murmurs councillor Raendril in the royal elven language, who then switches back to the normal elven language, then quietly says "Probably best to keep an eye on him".
The once powerful mage in the black hooded cloak nods in agreement with his fellow spellcaster, then he quietly says "I'm not sure" in reply to Helbe the elven thief quietly saying to him "What the hell are we going to do about Zubutai?".
The two councillors share a look, as they know the person who can bring Zubutai the barbarian hordesman back to life, in another body. Isn't here with them at the moment.
And he's the one who'll be the most annoyed that the hordes outrider has got himself killed again.
"We might get into trouble with you know who" sourly says Mira Reinholt who continues with "Zubutai dead again, as well as the goblin commander" the spellcaster who is in exile from his homeland of Vexil then adds "He won't be happy about that".
"That's for sure" dryly murmurs Helbe the elven thief who like the once powerful mage, knows lord Farque is going to be more than little angry that both Darid Parsen the cavalry commander, along with the goblin commander, Teabagger are both dead.
Especially since they as a group, decided to act on their own to exact revenge upon those who brought down the Farqian warship they were traveling on across the Kaldel Plains.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel is silent for a few moments as he looks at what remains of commander Parsen scattered across the village green.
Then the elven member of lord Farque's personal council looks at the small body of the bright green goblin, wrapped in a cloak, held in the arms of the ork general, Dorc da Orc.
The grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel sighs, then he looks at his fellow spellcaster and council member, and quietly says "We messed this up a bit".
Then as he looks at the badly damaged two storey house they're standing to the side of, the highly talented elven magic user adds "Tell me you got all their loot?".
"We did" says  the spellcaster who was a member of the mage council of Vexil, infact he was the youngest ever member of that particular council that helps to rule the city-state of Vexil.
"With what Tam and the others stole previously, we've got all of it" adds the mage Reinholt, who after a slight pause, says "There's a shit load of it".
"Oh?" says prince Helbenthril Raendril who then quickly adds "How much of a shit load?".
The Vexilian swordmaster in exile sourly smiles as he looks at the elven magic user, who is a thief through and through.
Then the once powerful mage tells his fellow councillor how much they've taken from the illegal wreckers.
The arched eyebrows of the elven masterthief lift up high when he hears that. They were told by Tam and Lis how much wealth the illegal wreckers had accumulated over the last year or so, from their illegal activities across the Kaldel Plains.
But to find out how much they actually have. As the ship's lockers are actually larger than what the two youngsters described.
They have a fairly substantial chunk of wealth in their hands now. Probably the most they've had, ever since they acquired, as in took. A whole lot of anti-magic from a colony of gnomes out on an island in the Hynralv archipelago. Which lies out in the Great Western Ocean off the coast of the Southlands.
That was a dozen years ago, when the group was markedly different than it is now.
"Well" says Helbe the elven thief, who after a brief pause adds "At least that's something to come out of this mess".
Mira Reinholt the mage nods his hooded head in agreement to that as they watch the airships on the south side of the village green continue to burn.
One is just a charred and blackened shell. With tendrils of smoke coming off. While the other is still ablaze as it burns to the ground.
"Added with the magetubes they've got over there" says the once powerful mage who points to the long building on the south side of the village green, just behind the airship that's a smouldering shell.
"As well as that ship there" adds the highly skilled swordmaster who gestures at the third airship, here on the north side of the village green. Which has been partially stripped down by the crew of illegal wreckers.
"We've got a bit of a fortune on our hands" continues the Vexilian mage in exile, the highly talented elven magic user nods his hooded head in agreement to that.
Then the elven princeling says to his fellow councillor "Best we gather it all up" the elven masterthief who is a member of the royal family that rules the principality of Laerel looks at the others in the group, then he quietly says "It'll give them something to do".
"Then what?" quietly asks the mage Reinholt "We leave" is the reply of prince Helbenthril Raendril, who then nods his hooded head back to where the others are standing out the front of the badly damaged two storey house on the northwest corner of the village green.
The two spellcasters who with the absence of lord Farque, and the death of Darid Parsen the cavalry commander. Lead the group of adventurers, who are in the armies of Farque.
Make their way back to the others. And they get them to do a number of tasks during the remainder of the morning.
As Mira Reinholt teleports back those ship's lockers he took out of the badly damaged house.
Beldane the cleric creates a gateway to the patch of scrubby trees about five miles to the east of the large village. Where the rest of the illegal wreckers wealth, which was stolen earlier, is buried.
Along with the fighting cleric, Tamric Drubine, Lisell Maera, Shur Kee the monk, sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Tovis the war engineer head through the gateway. To help dig up the strongboxes and the cask like chests, that are buried amongst the trees to the east of the village.
While the others go about doing those various tasks. Helbe the elven thief remains behind at the front of the baldly damaged two storey house at the northwest corner of the village green.
To keep an eye on Dorc da Orc, who growled at the young elven noble when he attempted to speak to him.
As well as to keep an eye on the two plainsmen who have been captured. Arvelle the leader of the crew of illegal wreckers. And Pallen the blademaster.
As he stands over the pair of unconscious illegal wreckers. The elven magic user reads their minds.
First the blademaster from the kingdom of Girdane, then the plainsman who has led the crew of illegal wreckers.
Who for the last year or so, have created havoc across the Kaldel Plains, bringing down airships. Taking anything of value off them. Then stripping down those vessels. And selling anything of worth from the stripped down airships.
As the second of the burning airships over on the south side of the village green burns down to the ground, the elven master assassin lifts an eyebrow in surprise after reading the mind of the leader of the crew of illegal wreckers, Arvelle.
"Now isn't that interesting" murmurs Helbe the elven thief as he looks down at the tall plainsman with the shaved head, who has led the crew of illegal wreckers.
"What is it?" asks Narladene the ground pixie as she stands upon the right shoulder of the elven princeling and looks down at the unconscious plainsman whose mind the elven magic user has just read.
The young elven noble from the principality of Laerel is silent for a few moments as he looks at Arvelle the plainsman, then the elven masterthief quietly tells Narladene what he's just found out . . . . . .