The Lost Ones 56.

Summer. The Sultanate Of Dreese.

The airship the Quick Gull swings out to starboard across the beach and over the trees of the tropical forest on the otherside of the road.
An energyball explodes just thirty feet behind it as lord Farque, who is at the wheel takes it away from the chaos that's been unleashed on the beach.
"A few ward spells would be handy you two" says Helbe the elven thief to Mira Reinholt the mage as well as the Viceroy of Dreese.
Who are little disoriented after suddenly appearing on deck just a few moments ago.
The crew and officers, not knowing what's really going on. Jump to the orders shouted at them by lord Farque.
While Beldane the cleric hurries forward to check on the mage Reinholt, the Viceroy of Dreese along with Dalinvardél Tanith the elven thief.
Who are all a little unsteady on their feet after going through a shift spell that Helbe the elven thief had placed in the fractured spell gem that was given to the once powerful mage.
A fireball streaks by the stern of the small single masted airship as it turns inland.
"Hell" says Tovis the war engineer as he watches the fireball go by, he then turns to the undead warlord at the wheel, and says "They're not happy are they?".
"Can you blame them" dryly says lord Farque.
"I guess not" quietly says the young engineer originally from the kingdom of Druvic, which is in the Southlands, all the way on the otherside of the continent.
As the undead warlord shouts out in the local dialect "Haul that line in!". And some of the crew jump to his orders.
Both the war engineer Tovis, and Jarjin Littlefoot the halfling. Look to aft, back to the beach, at the south end of which is the Sultan's flagship, and his royal pavilion.
A beach where all hell has broken lose, as the Sultan, the supreme ruler of Dreese. Lies dead on the sand infront of his pavilion.
Those nearly thirty spellcasters who have been under the direct control of the Sultan. Some of whom have been under his control for more than four years.
Are finally under their own control now that the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese is dead.
And they're finally free to do what they want. And what they want, is revenge for what's happened to them.
The nearly thirty spellcasters who have had the shared experience of being under the direct control of the now dead Sultan of Dreese.
Take out their anger on anything and anyone they see. Starting with the members of the Sultan's court who have been traveling with him during his campaign against his younger brother the Viceroy.
The first of whom to be killed. Is the herald of the court. The so called voice of the Sultan.
Who on having the rather overweight supreme ruler of Dreese fall on top of him.
Managed to pull himself out from under the dead Sultan. Only to have himself go up in a pillar of flames as he stumbled to his feet. As a rather irate sorcerer set him on fire.
Other members of the Sultan's court are killed as well. One has their head explode as they try to run away.
While another is envisorated as they stand there infront of the royal pavilion, completely dumbfounded at what's just happened.
While a lady of the court's head explodes as she stands there screaming as she looks at the dead body of the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Most of those from the Sultan's court are killed when a mage, blasts away the entire bow section of the large triple masted airship that's the Sultan's flagship.
Killing a fair few of the crew onboard the vessel, as well as some of the Sultan's personal guards.
The spellcasters who have been under the complete control of the Sultan of Dreese.
Take great pleasure in killing those of the Sultan's personal guards who are at this end of the beach.
One finds himself standing there with both of his arms chopped off. While another is cut in half at the waist. He is still alive for a bit as he lies there on the sands of the beach, looking at the lower half of his body lying next to him.
One of the Sultan's personal guards goes flying through the air, going over a hundred feet out over the water, which he hits at speed.
While another from the Sultan's battalion of personal guards. Is bent over double, puking up his insides, with his entrails coming out of his mouth, as a rather clever wizard finds various inventive ways in killing those who have been part of the nightmare that the spellcasters have been living under, until just a few moments ago.
As a member of court who is covered in bright orange, then blue flames goes running into the channel. And continues to burn as the water doesn't put the flames out. And as the royal pavilion starts to burn.
The nearly thirty spellcasters who the Sultan of Dreese had enscrolled. Turn on the rest of the Sultan's forces, who have made it onto the other end of the beach. And are on the road just up from the beach.
As well as out on the water, as many of them have come down from their camp by boat and ship.
While other boats and ships have crossed the channel, or are crossing the channel from the other island. That lies here near the equator, at the very north of the chain of islands that are off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
The only thing the nearly thirty spellcasters don't turn on. Are the Sultan's concubines.
The only people who have had it worse than they have. As boys, girls, men and women, concubines all. Stand around, watching what's happening in disbelief. As their minds are now their's again, now that the Sultan of Dreese is dead.
Some wander away, to get away from the carnage unleashed by the spellcasters who were the Sultan's very own cadre of practitioners of magic who he controlled.
But even those concubines who don't move off the beach. Are perfectly fine. As not a single spell unleashed in fury comes their way.
And if one accidentally did. They would still be fine. As the spellcasters, even in their anger and fury. Have put up wards around those who were concubines to the supreme ruler of Dreese.
After Beldane the cleric casts a light healing spell on Mira Reinholt the mage. The only one to really need it, as he's physically tired after being under the control of the Sultan of Dreese since the springtime.
The once powerful mage, the elven spy, the fighting cleric, along with the Viceroy of Dreese make their way to aft.
A few of the crew recognise the local nobleman, after all he was previously their commander.
They stare at him as he walks by with the some of the foreign mercenaries. Until an order is yelled at them from the stern deck.
On the stern deck, the mage who is from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands. Slightly grimaces as lord Farque takes one look at him, then ignores him, as he addresses the member of the royal family that's ruled the Sultanate of Dreese for a number of generations.
"Told you it would work" says the undead warlord to the local nobleman.
"Yes you did" says the Viceroy of Dreese, who had his doubts it would work. He slightly flinches as the sound of a large explosion can be heard from the beach they're getting further away from.
"So i guess we start calling you Sultan now" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin by the people of his nation.
"Er?" says the Viceroy, who then adds "Well" followed by "I don't know about that".
"Might as well" says the heavily armoured deathlord who is looking forward at the bow, where Helbe the elven thief has positioned himself.
The young elven noble who is from the island principality of Laerel, which lies off the coast of the Southlands. Is looking down at the tropical forest below as lord Farque takes the Quick Gull inland.
The highly talented elven magic user holds up his right arm, and calls something out in the royal elven language.
The lord of the death realm calls out a some order, which is relayed by the ship's captain. Who no way in hell was going to stand against the foreign mercenary called the dead man when he and other foreign mercenaries came onboard.
The small, single masted airship slows down, and comes to a halt, just a mile and a half inland from the beach they were on previously.
"Put some strong wards up behind us" says Draugadrottin to Beldane the cleric and the Viceroy of Dreese "There's a mageglobe coming this way" adds the undead warlord who has commanded the Sultan's forces in the war against the Viceroy.
As the two spellcasters do, Mira Reinholt quickly creates a mageglobe of his own, which he flings away. It shoots over the head of Jarjin Littlefoot, who the Vexilian mage in exile notices for the first time realising who he really is, causing the spellcaster from the Southlands to burst out laughing.
"I see you damn well told him" says Jarjin Littlefoot the halfling in an accusing tone of voice in elven to the spy Tanith.
Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, can't help but snort as he suppresses the laughter that threatens to escape.
The elf from the principality of Alínlae in the Southlands, where he previously served in one of the more prominent noble houses in his homeland.
Just nods his hooded head in response to the accusation from the hobbit who is a former air sailor in the fleet of the Sultanate of Dreese.
The small airship drops down towards a clearing in the trees that covers a lot of the interior of the island.
As it does, lord Farque looks over at the captain of the Quick Gull and says to him "You and your crew have got a decision to make".
The heavily armoured deathlord who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means, The Destroyer. Then tells the captain of the small single masted vessel "You can either join him" as he nods at the Viceroy of Dreese.
"Or you can stay onboard with us" continues the undead warlord who then adds "By the way, we're going halfway around the world, so take that into consideration when you make your decision".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque briefly pauses before he tells the captain "If you don't choose. I'll kill the fucking lot of you".
Draugadrottin briefly pauses again, as there's a loud explosion about four hundred yards to aft of the Quick Gull. As the mageglobe created by Mira Reinholt, encounters the one from an irate mage back on the beach, over a mile and half away to the east.
"Quick" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who then tells the ship's captain "You haven't got much time".
The Quick Gill's captain momentarily pauses, then he turns and starts shouting out to his officers and crew, to come to him as he something important to tell them.
As the small airship hovers thirty feet over the clearing, the hobbit from the mainland of Dreese, slightly frowns, and jumps up and holds onto the port rail as he looks overboard.
The former air sailor, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to find himself inhabiting the body of Jarjin Littlefoot, nods his head when he spots something.
Hoping down off the port rail, the hobbit who along with Mira Reinholt the mage, and Helbe the elven thief, are members of lord Farque's personal council, says "They're heading this way". "I know" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The Viceroy of Dreese hurries to the port rail, followed by Mira Reinholt the mage.
As the once powerful mage frowns as he wonders what's going on. The local nobleman who is also a spellcaster, who is now able to feel his magical powers again. Suddenly grins as he spots movement in the tropical forest.
Helbe the elven thief who has made his way back from the bow, says to the slightly confused looking mage Reinholt "His army" as he nods his hooded head at the Viceroy.
Still frowning, the Vexilian mage in exile says "I thought they were defeated yesterday".
"They were" says the young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, who then adds "We let a fair few of them escape to the west side of the island yesterday" the highly talented elven magic user continues with "I went and spoke them last night, told them to come back this way before dawn" he briefly pauses before adding "Seems they listened to me".
The Viceroy of Dreese turns to lord Farque, who tells him "You and your forces might as well stay back out of the way, and wait for those spellcasters to do all your dirty work".
The undead being who has lead the Sultan's forces in the campaign against the Viceroy briefly pauses then adds in a slightly dry tone of voice "Besides some of them might turn on you lot in their anger".
"That's true" quietly says the local spellcaster, who looks at the large heavily armoured figure at the wheel, then the other foreign mercenaries, and he says "What about all of you?".
"Like i said, we're leaving" says Draugadrottin, who continues with "We've given you the chance for victory, it's up to you take it".
The Viceroy of Dreese nods as he recalls the number of games of Shāh he played against the foreign mercenary known as the dead man by the Sultan's forces, all of which he lost.
The local nobleman slightly nods again, in understanding this time, when lord Farque quietly tells him in the dialect of Dreese "I'm no longer in command of your brother's forces".
And with a nod of his full helmed head in the direction of the beach they've just left, where from even a mile and half away, they can all hear the thud of ship out in the channel explode, blowing debris and water up into the air.
The lord of the death realm says "You've got a distinct advantage now, even with the numbers you've got left" Des'tier momentarily pauses before adding  "Like i said, probably best to wait for that pissed off bunch of spellcasters to do your dirty work".
"I will" says the Viceroy, who is the younger brother of the now dead Sultan of Dreese. Who can now take the Sultanate for his own if he's victorious in defeating the remainder of his older brother's forces.
Looking at the ship's captain, lord Farque calls out to him "Well have you lot made up your fucking minds?" the heavily armoured deathlord then adds "Because we're leaving".
The rest of the group who were brought here to Dreese by a rift/void spell that Mira Reinholt the mage accidentally cast back in the Southlands.
Are all pleased to hear that from the lord and ruler of the lands Farque. That they're leaving . . . . . .