A Grand Design 44.

Winter. The City Of Oaklynn. The Capital Of The Kingdom Of Girdane.

Mira Reinholt the mage yawns as he walks through the darkness of the morning before dawn.
Next to him, Shur Kee the monk yawns too.
A sure sign to the once powerful mage that they're up far too early. As the short, statured monk is usually bright eyed and alert first thing in the morning.
The two of them are following lord Farque and Dorc da Orc. With the undead warlord leading them out of the city of Oaklynn, the capital of the kingdom of Girdane.
They head east out of the southern quarter of the city. Walking along a road, on what's a bitterly cold morning before the dawn.
Well it's bitterly cold for the mage who is from the city-state of Vexil, and the physical adept from beyond the Southlands.
Not exactly cold for the two infront. As lord Farque doesn't feel the cold. Since he's dead, or to be exact, undead.
While for Dorc da Orc, he wishes it was even colder. As the large ork from the southern polar region of the world, was born and raised in much colder climes than here in the central region of the Southlands.
No one is on the road for quite some time, until they get to a bridge that crosses the Tambir river.
Where they see a horse and cart heading towards the city. The driver on the cart, a local farmer by the looks of it, who is half asleep as he heads to one of the markets in the city.
Jerks awake, when his horse steps to one side, when it sees, and gets a whiff of Dorc da Orc.
Who eyes the cart horse with nefarious intent. Until the ork warleader grunts when lord Farque nudges him with an armoured elbow. Prodding him to keep moving, as the big, burly ork was about to stop.
They cross the Tambir river, and on the otherside of it from the city. Lord Farque quietly says "That way" as he points to the southeast, then looks at the mage Reinholt who yawns.
"Where?" asks Mira Reinholt the mage as he peers in the direction the undead warlord has pointed to.
"And how far?" adds the spellcaster who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil.
"Another mile and a half" says the heavily armoured deathlord in response to the question from the mage who is a member of his personal council.
"I can't see shit" mutters the Vexilian mage in exile, who ignores the "Blind fuck" muttered by Dorc da Orc. And casts a spell to see in the dark, here early in the morning before the dawn on this bitterly cold winter's day.
The spellcaster, who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands. Until he went offworld through a rift/void he miscast, and he lost the vast majority of his powers.
Grunts when he's able to see where the lord and ruler of the lands Farque wants them to go.
The spellcaster who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster, drains some of the power from one of his spell gems he's pocketed about himself.
Then he teleports himself, along the lord of the death realm, the ork weaponsmith and the physical adept.
He does that two more times, as the council member is unable to teleport too far due to his lack of power.
After they reappear, lord Farque, who is also called Draugadrottin by people of his lands.
Leads them off the road, and heads due east. Beside the large, heavily armoured deathlord. The warleader of the ork race grunts as he catches wind of who isn't all that faraway.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, then sourly smiles as he catches the scent of the person who is with the other. Well, creature, would be a more apt description.
They head towards a thicket of trees off the road, about forty yards away as the first sign of dawn in the east starts to appear on the horizon in that direction, as the sun is about to come up on another winter's day, here in the east of the kingdom of Girdane.
As they approach the thicket of trees, a cloaked figure suddenly appears. And as they get closer, both Mira Reinholt the mage and Shur Kee the monk eventually recognise who it is.
"Morning" says Helbe the elven thief when the others, who left the city of Oaklynn early this morning to meet him, come to a stop infront of him.
A yawning "Morning" comes from the mage Reinholt, and a similar sounding greeting comes from the short, statured monk wearing an odd, conical shaped hat.
While Dorc da Orc just grunts, then he scowls as he smells an unseen Narladene the ground pixie on the right shoulder of the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel.
While lord Farque, one to never bother with unnecessary greetings, just nods his full, helmed head, then he asks "Where are they?" followed by "Still on the otherside?" as he can't sense that many people in the vicinity.
"They are" says the elven masterthief who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, an island principality off the coast of the Southlands.
"Thought it would be best to come through all at once" continues the highly talented elven magic user, who like his fellow spellcaster, the mage Reinholt, is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Makes sense" says the undead warlord, who then nods his full helmed head when the elven master assassin tells him "We haven't told them where we're going, just eastwards".
"East alright" dryly murmurs Mira Reinholt the mage.
"Our army will come through first, followed by theirs" continues the nobleborn elf.
Nodding once more, the heavily armoured deathlord holds out a gauntleted hand, which the mage Reinholt places a rolled up map in.
The lord of the death realm hands it to elven master archer, and tells them "That's the best way" followed by "And there's no other lords or dukes armies in and around the city at the moment, the only ones heading out west today will be the latest intake of mercenaries the crown have hired".
"Just the regent's forces to worry about then?" asks the elven princeling.
Draugadrottin nods his full helmed head, then says "Pretty much" he continues with "Not that they can defend a city the size of Oaklynn".
Mira Reinholt nods his hooded head in agreement, Shur Kee nods in agreement too. While Dorc da Orc grunts with that assessment from the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
As false dawn approaches, the undead warlord, who is also known by the elven name of Des'tier, asks the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel "Have you spoken to the duke of Dalmar lately about what he wants to do?".
The heavily armoured deathlord continues with "Well apart from the obvious of getting his sister back, and taking out the regent".
"Not lately" says Helbe the elven thief, who after a moments pause continues with "You think he might want to take the throne?".
"Maybe" says the undead being "I get the feeling he doesn't want it" says prince Helbenthril Raendril, who switches from the common language, to the royal elven language and adds "I know for fact he's not interested in it, I've read his mind".
Continuing in the same language, the elven spellcaster says "He wanted the king disposed, and that's happened, all he wants to do now, is to kill the regent, get his sister back, and form a new court, so that those in the far western duchies aren't put upon anymore".
"Fair enough" says the lord of the death realm in the same language, who switches back to common, and continues with "We'll see to it that the palace, and the city council building is open for their arrival".
The young elven noble nods his hooded head, then says "They'll appreciate that i bet".
The undead warlord gestures to the nearby woods, where amongst some rocks, soldiers in his army, have been widening a hole in the ground, underneath which is a tunnel that has a gnome hole in it.
"You might as well go back through, and start sending the army through" says Des'tier, who then adds "You'll be in the city early in the morning, before they know what the fuck is going on".
The elven princeling nods his hooded head, then says "I'll just get going then".
The highly talented elven magic user disappears as he shifts away into the nearby woods.
While the lord and ruler of the lands Farque gestures back towards the Tambir river and says to the mage Reinholt "Let's head back".
After the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster teleports the four of them a few times back to the road, which they walk along, and are soon crossing back over the bridge.
As the first rays of light of the dawn start to appear in the sky to the east on this bitterly cold winter's morning, here in eastern Girdane.
Dorc da Orc asks lord Farque "So what the fuck we gonna do this morning?".
"Open the palace and the council building up" replies Draugadrottin "Open?" mutters the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
"Yes, open" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who then adds something in the elven language. Which obviously Mira Reinholt the mage and Shur Kee the monk, have no idea what he's saying.
But which causes the ork warleader, to chuckle, then say in the common language "Fucken get some".
Helbe the elven thief goes back through the portal in the gnome hole, and he's soon going through the tunnel below ground, that's lined with Farqian soldiers on either side, who make way for the councillor.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, goes up the dirt packed ramp. And once he's in the clearing in the woods, where it's still relatively dark here in the central region of the kingdom of Girdane. He looks around, and spots Tamric Drubine the field commander, Arvelle Ganard the plainsman, Larris the sorcerer, sir Kamson the avenger, and a number of others in the senior staff of the young field commander. As well as a few others, like Lisell Maera the messenger. And he makes his way over to them.
The elven princeling hands the rolled up map lord Farque gave him, to the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
Who as he unrolls it, Helbe the elven thief tells him "You can get underway". The elven magic user creates a lightball so that Tamric Drubine can study the map, and the brief instructions lord Farque has written on it.
After Arvelle Ganard the plainsman looks over the young field commander's shoulder, and quickly looks at the map and instructions, he says to the nobleborn teenager "I'll go through with the first lot as planned".
Nodding to that, Tamric Drubine the field commander says "Do that" followed by "You might as well get going".
The tall plainsman with the shaved head, who is a member of the personal council to the deathlord of Farque, nods then hurries off, heading down the dirt packed ramp in the ground after he calls out some orders.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, turns to his second in command, sir Kamson and tells him "You know the order they're to go in Kamson, make sure it's done".
"Yes field commander" says sir Kamson the avenger, and as the former member of the order of the Knights of the Dark starts calling out orders.
Field commander Drubine looks at Helbe the elven thief and says to him "We might as well go and tell them what's going on" Tam briefly pauses before continuing on with "And where they're going".
The two of them, followed by a pair of Farqian soldiers, who have been trained by prince Helbenthril Raendril. Along with Lisell Maera the messenger, make their way through the woods. Heading out to the edge of it.
Once they're by their own army, who are starting to depart. And they go through the camp of the dukes of Falosen, Girnath and Dalmar armies, which is coming down at the moment.
They make their way to where the three dukes and a number of others are standing by the edge of the woods. As the first signs of dawn start to show here in central Girdane, on this bitterly cold winter's day.
After greeting the dukes Hilloc, Korros, Lombasil and the others, Tamric Drubine the field commander says "As you can hear, and see, our army are moving out" referring to the mercenary army from the lands Farque.
"Your armies will immediately follow, starting with those further in, closer to the clearing in the middle of the woods" adds the nobleborn teenager who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
Slightly frowning like his fellow dukes, and their officers are doing, duke Hilloc of Dalmar says "Why those in their first?" he follows that with "And where exactly are we going?".
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, glances at Helbe the elven thief who is standing beside him.
"Those of your armies further in, go first for the simple fact they're closer to the point of departure" says the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, who continues on with "And as we've mentioned before, we're going east".
The elven masterthief who is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, briefly pauses before he adds "To be exact, the city of Oaklynn, or close enough to it".
"Er?" says the duke of Dalmar after a moment of confusion, then after looking at his fellow dukes, then back at Helbe the elven thief and Tamric Drubine the field commander, he says "What, you mean this morning?".
"Yes exactly" says the highly talented elven magic user, who continues with "We'll be in the city of Oaklynn later this morning" the elven princeling looks at each of the rebel dukes, then he adds "Where you'll take the city council building, and the palace, and take over the court".
Just as the dukes of the three most western duchies in the kingdom of Girdane think the mercenaries have gone mad.
Tamric Drubine tells them "If you'll follow us, we'll explain" the young field commander of the mercenary army from the lands Farque adds "And have your officers get your companies to depart once your camp has come down".
And as the first rays of light start to appear on the horizon to the east on this bitterly cold winter's day here on the border of the duchies of Wostin and Fandell in central Girdane.
The dukes of Falosen, Girnath and Dalmar walk alongside field commander Drubine and councillor Raendril who explain to them how they'll be in the city of Oaklynn fairly shortly.
As below ground, beneath the woods they're walking through, Arvelle Ganard the plainsman leads the first of the companies in the mercenary army from the lands Farque through the gnome hole, that has a portal in it . . . . . .