The Lost Ones 50.

Summer. Gilsom & The Coast Of The Southlands.

"Well the port authority isn't saying they're pirates, but they're also not denying the fact that they might be" says Lisell Maera the messenger who along with the Shur Kee the monk has just made their way back to the others.
"And of course they didn't have a cargo manifest of any kind, or a set destination once they left port" adds the attractive young woman who hails from the city-state of Brattonbury.
"Figures" sourly says Tamric Drubine the field commander, next to him, sir Percavelle Lé Dic grunts in agreement, then loudly mutters "Not very sporting, wot".
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, then looks over at Saanea the witch, and asks her "They still going south?".
"They are" is the reply of Saanea the witch who is the newest member of the group.
The young field commander nods, then quietly says "At least that's something".
Then the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who is now a senior officer in the armies of Farque, looks at Lisell Maera who asks him "Were you able to get one?".
"We did" is the reply of field commander Drubine who continues with "It'll go down the coast for a bit, before heading inland" he briefly pauses before adding "Though it doesn't leave for a little while longer".
Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by the others in the group, slightly winces when she hears that, then she sighs at the predicament they're in.
It's morning, and they're on the harbourside of the port town of Gilsom.
They thought it best not to go back through the small mountain to the inland side of Gilsom. For the simple reason people might connect them with what happened in the shipyards of Gilsom last night.
And the fact that word has started to spread that a number of murders happened last night.
Where several dwarves were killed in the township on the otherside of the small mountain that's right here on the coast, here in the hill range called The Cascades.
The reason for those murders is sitting on the ground next to the building of the shipping agent's the others are standing infront of this morning.
Dorc da Orc is in the shade, enjoying the breeze coming off the harbour, on what's a significantly cooler morning compared to recent days this summer along the coast of the Southlands.
The large ork is sipping from a barrel of ale, trying to keep a low profile. Well, as low a profile as possible for a seven and a half foot tall, seven hundred and fifty pound, green killer of dwarves.
The ork warleader is all but ignoring the others. As all of them are at least a little annoyed with him for taking off last night when they needed him.
For Dorkindle, chasing down those who they've been after since leaving the Maldin Hills, is fine and all.
But to him, the killing of dwarves is much more important. He's still a bit pissed off that he didn't kill more of them last night in the township on the otherside of the small mountain, within which is the town of Gilsom proper.
Here in the port itself, Tamric Drubine looks out at the crescent shaped harbour, and all the ships that are coming into dock, or leaving the harbour.
There's vessels of all descriptions coming and going from Gilsom. From small fishing skiffs, to massive triple masted merchant vessels, some of which are bound for the nation of Nors, which is all the way across the Great Western Ocean.
The nobleborn teenager who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, a castle that's located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Looks to the northern point of the crescent shaped harbour. There sits the circular airdock that's in the port.
The only airdock on this side of the small mountain. As all the other airdocks, as well as the airship building yards. Are on the inland side of the small mountain, where all the expansion has happened over the last twenty years here in Gilsom.
Out of the three airships at the raised, circular dock. He sees the one he's paid a small fortune for them to get on as passengers, that will take them down the coast for a bit as they continue their pursuit of those they've been after since quickly leaving the Maldin Hills.
The young field commander then asks Lis "Were you able to find out anything?".
"Just that the merchant Sharnd occasionally does business here" is the reply of the messenger who is part of the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque.
"The port authorities didn't want to give anymore information than they had to" adds the attractive young woman who is originally from further north along the coast, where the city-state of Brattonbury is located over fifteen hundred miles away.
"Same here" says field commander Drubine hiking a thumb at the shipping agent's building behind them.
"Though they did tell me he's from a town in the lowlands on this side of the Maldin Hills" adds the nobleborn teenager who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque.
"That's something at least" quietly says Lisell Maera, who continues with "You never know" she briefly pauses before adding "That might come in handy one day".
Nodding his head, Tam quietly says in the elven language to the messenger "I hope so".
Shur Kee the monk and sir Percavelle Lé Dic sit down on the bench seat infront of the offices of the shipping agent that field commander Drubine has just dealt with.
While Lis after glancing to where Dorc da Orc is sitting to the side of the building, wanders down to the dock that's right infront of the shipping agent's building.
The witch Saanea is already there, standing at the land end of the dock, with her eyes closed as she watches what her familiar is looking at, down the coast from the port town of Gilsom.
Tamric Drubine after looking towards the pretty looking hillwoman down at the dock.
Turns and walks by the former paladin, and the short statured monk sitting on the bench infront of the shipping agent's offices.
The young field commander, who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque makes his way around to the side of the building, where Dorc da Orc is sitting in the shade, sipping from a barrel of ale.
The nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin crouches down near the large ork, though not too close as the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world absolutely reeks at the moment.
What with it being the middle of summer, and it's been a while since he's been rained on. Which is about the only time he has a wash, unless he happens to fall into a body of water somewhere. Which he definitely does his best to avoid.
The ork general grunts when Tam quietly says to him "That annoyed me more than you realise last night when you took off like that".
The ork weaponsmith continues to sip from the barrel of ale, and not look at the young field commander as Tam quietly tells him "I could of done with you and your sense of smell to follow after that lot when they went through the tunnels".
The nobleborn teen who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, then quietly adds after a brief pause "But no, you had to go and kill some poor dwarves".
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grins, and guffaws at the mention of the dwarves he killed in the township last night.
Field commander Drubine slightly shakes his head, then even though technically general Dorc is a superior officer to him in the armies of Farque, he tells the ork warleader "I'll have to inform the lord when we finally see him, of your disregard of my orders last night" Tam continues with "I'm sure he'll find a suitable punishment for you".
With an angry looking scowl upon his broad, green, brutish looking face, Dorc da Orc says "Why you gotta go and do that for cunt?".
The large ork, who to be honest, rather hopes they never find the rest of the group again. For the simple reason he hates getting his lights punched out by lord Farque whenever he apparently does something wrong. Apparently to him, but pretty obvious to everyone else.
Shakes his head in disgust, and says "The little fucken freaks deserves it" he continues in his deep, growling voice with "They needs to be fucken wiped out to makes the world a better place, and Dorc is the man to do it, me mean ork to do it".
The big burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world sees the young field commander Drubine roll his eyes at what he just said.
Dorkindle snorts and says "Me fucken knows you since you was a lil' humanling" the general in the armies of Farque follows that with "You know how me hates them fucken midget cunts" he then adds "More than the cunt sun, and yucky fucken water".
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then says "So you knows what Dorc gonna fucken do if any of them short little fucken hairy cunts are around".
Tamric Drubine already knows this, and not caring about the excuses given to him by the large ork, he tells him "I don't care Dorc" followed by "You disobeyed my orders in what's effectively a time of war".
The young field commander doesn't mention that the big, burly ork as a general is actually one of his superior officers. It helps that Dorkindle often completely forgets his position in the armies of Farque.
"For that I'll inform lord Farque when we next see him" adds the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
The ork warleader grimaces at the prospect at that. Though he's of the opinion, based on past experiences. That it might be a long time before they ever see lord Farque and the rest of the group again. That's if they ever see that lot again.
Dorc da Orc even mutters that in the ork language. Then he grunts, while the young field commander turns his head, when from around the front of the building, sir Percavelle Lé Dic calls out "Young Tam, they've started loading that airship".
"Come on" says Tamric Drubine to the ork weaponsmith "We can board it now" adds the nobleborn teen who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque.
Dorkindle who rather hopes Tam forgets about what they were just discussing. Grunts and gets up off the ground, and follows the young field commander to around the front of the building.
Where the group heads off to the north end of the crescent shaped harbour, to the airship that will soon leave the port town of Gilsom.
Meanwhile, further south down the coast of the Southlands. A brig, which is essentially a coastal raider. Has moved out to more open water, to pick up speed as it heads south down the coast.
As the rather dark, and scruffy looking twin masted ship, that's rigged for as much speed as possible.
Heads out into deeper water to try and catch the breeze out there, on what's a cooler summer morning, than it has been of late.
Brossic the lowland mercenary slightly shakes his head as he looks around at the state of the ship and it's crew. It's something he's done a number of times since coming onboard last night, when they left the port town of Gilsom in rather a hurry.
Though no expert on ships, especially sea going ships compared to airships. Brossic can see that for all the wonky looking rigging, and disheveled and tatty looking crew.
That the ship itself, and those who crew it. Are actually a well disciplined crew, who follow the orders of the officers and captain without question.
More so than any merchant vessel that the lowlander mercenary has ever traveled on before.
Infact Brossic wonders if they once belonged to a nation's navy before they took up the sea going trade.
Though trade is only part of what they do. It's fairly obvious they partake in a bit of piracy when it suits them.
But not at the moment, as they've been hired by Brossic and the others who have plans to create their own nation up in the Maldin Hills.
Brossic turns and sees Grunna the sorcerer make his way up on deck. Up forward of a midships, both the mercenaries Spranen and Halnard. Along with some of the other mercenaries they've hired, are playing a game of cards against some of the crew who aren't on duty at the moment.
As he stands just below the stern deck, Brossic is joined by Grunna the sorcerer who quietly says "He's still fucked off as you can imagine".
In response to Brossic the lowland mercenary quietly asking him "How's he doing?".
Brossic the crew leader of those who plans to carve out their own nation in the Maldin Hills, grunts then murmurs "I can well imagine".
For he too is still more than annoyed at the loss of their airship, which belonged to Sharnd the flatland merchant.
Brossic nods over to his left, and the two of them wander over to the port rail, where they look towards the shore as they head south down the coast of the Southlands.
As he glances to aft, to where a flock of seagulls is following the brig, as the ship's cook is throwing scraps overboard.
Grunna the sorcerer quietly says "So" he briefly pauses before he continues with "What do we do then?".
As they haven't really discussed their plans since leaving the port town of Gilsom last night.
Just that onboard, they've got all of those who they had already hired. As well as most of the latest batch of mercenaries they hired in Gilsom. Along with the crew of the brig they're on as they head south, just off from the coast.
"Nothing's changed" quietly says the leader of the crew of mercenaries, who follows that with "We'll continue on as we've planned, and head inland to the Maldin Hills".
Brossic momentarily pauses, before he continues on with "We'll just take longer to get there now".
He then asks the spellcaster from further south along the coast "Can either one of those two cast a rift?". Referring to the wizard and magic user who are amongst those they hired in the port town of Gilsom.
"No" is the reply from Grunna, who then adds "And even they did, neither one has ever been up to the Maldin Hills, so it wouldn't matter".
The crew leader nods his head, then says "Definitely take longer to get there then".
The spellcaster from further south along the coast grunts in agreement with that, as the brig cuts through the water with efficiency as they catch an offshore breeze.
Then the two of them see Halnard and Spranen leave the game of cards being played infront of a midships. And make their way aft to where the two of them are standing at the port rail.
"What are you two taking about?" asks Spranen the mercenary when he and Halnard join Brossic and Grunna at the port rail.
It's basically the same thing Sharnd the mercenary asks a few moments later, when he comes up on deck, and joins the others in the small group who have plans to create their own nation up in the Maldin Hill range.
"How we're going to continue on with our plans, that's what" quietly says Brossic the mercenary, in a quiet and determined tone of voice.
The others all nod, even the rather disappointed and dejected looking Sharnd the merchant, who still can't believe that his airship has been destroyed.
"This might be a bit of setback" quietly says the crew leader, who continues on with "But i tell you, nothing is going to stop us and our plans".
"Here, here" states Grunna the sorcerer, which is echoed by the others, including the flatland merchant, Sharnd.
As they look to the shore, and on a day like today, where it's cooler than most summer days, and the sky is clear and blue with no clouds above.
They can see in the distance, the faint smudge that is the Maldin Hills. Which is at least forty miles in from the coast of the Southlands.
Nodding in the direction of the Maldin Hill range, Brossic the lowlander quietly says in a determined tone of voice "We're going back there" followed by "To make our own nation".
Whilst amongst the flock of seagulls trailing the brig as it continues southwards. One of the seagulls is not a seagull. And is actually a witch's familiar. Which is watching and listening to what's going on down on the ship below . . . . . .