The Find 2.

Autumn.

Onboard the Quick Gull. A few hundred feet above the ground, just after dawn on a cold autumn morning.
"What's that in the distance?" asks Beldane the cleric as he stands at the starboard side rail.
"Eweteets?" adds the powerful spellcaster who is originally from the kingdom of Nastell.
"It is" replies Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy who is standing next to the fighting cleric at the rail, as they look eastwards as the sun rises up over the horizon in that direction.
"Been there before?" asks the elven spy who hails from the principality of Alínlae.
"I haven't" is the reply of the cleric in the church of Glaine.
"You haven't?" says the spy Tanith in surprise, who continues with "I thought you would of, considering they call it the City of a Thousand Churches".
Beldane shakes his head, then tells the elf in the gray hooded cloak standing beside him "I've never been north of the Colevar Mountains before".
The powerful cleric continues with "This is the furthest north I've ever been".
Dalinvardèl Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, grunts then says "Eweteets is the furthest north I've been in this part of the Southlands".
The spy who previously served in one of the more prominent noble houses of his homeland, Alínlae.
And who is now a company commander in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque, continues with "Never gone up to The City of Ruins".
The elven spy then adds "Though I've gone further north, all the way in the west, out on the coast".
Beldane the cleric nods his head, then he casts a farsight spell upon himself, so he can see what Dalin with his naturally enhanced elven eyesight can see.
"Damn, that is a lot of churches" murmurs the cleric in the halfplate armour as he gets a better look at the city about fifteen miles away to the east of them.
Seeing all the church spires glistening in the first light of dawn, as the sun continues to rise on what's a cold autumn morning, here in the northern region, of the central Southlands.
"Not just churches, but all sorts of temples and shrines there" says the spy Tanith, who last visited this part of the Southlands some fifty years ago.
"Yeah, my church has a handful of places there" says the powerful cleric in the church of Glaine, who then adds "And we're not even a church that's widespread across the Southlands".
The elven spy who is a company commander in the armies of Farque nods his hooded head.
As they continue to watch the city in the distance to the east, as the small, sleek looking, single masted airship that's the Quick Gull, flies northwards.
After a while, as the rising sun gets higher in the sky to the east, the two of them, the elven spy and the fighting cleric, look forward, to the north, the direction they're heading.
As they do, Dorc da Orc who has been lying asleep on the bow deck. Wakes up yawning, and grunting, and muttering away to himself in the incomprehensible language of the orks.
The large ork spots Beldane and Dalinvardèl by the starboard rail, he grunts and gets up, and makes his way back along the deck to join them.
"Where the fuck we going?" asks Dorc da Orc as he joins the elven spy and the fighting cleric at the starboard side rail, in a midships.
"You don't remember?" asks the spy Tanith, who continues with "We've gone over the plan a number of times". The last of which, was late yesterday afternoon.
"Dorc forgot" says the ork warleader with a shrug of his massive shoulders.
"You mean you weren't listening" dryly says Dalin in the elven language, which illicits a grin, and a nod of agreement from Beldane the cleric.
Switching back to the common language, the elven spy who hails from the principality of Alínlae, tells the ork weaponsmith "We're heading further north, to The City of Ruins" followed by "Well, the towns and villages just south of there first i guess".
With a frown upon his broad, feral looking face, the large ork after muttering "Not north" when Dalin said, south.
Says "What the fuck is there?" the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, then adds "Don't know if Dorc has been to that fucken city before".
The elf who is a company commander in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque says "We're going there to look for someone".
The spy Tanith follows up with "And i understand you've gone there in the past with some of the others".
Seeing the more than usual look of confusion, mixed with a scowl upon the face of the ork warleader.
Dalin tells him "It's an ancient city, well the ruins of it" followed by "In a giant hole in the ground".
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name, stands there blinking in the early morning sunshine, trying to figure out if what the spy Tanith is telling him is true.
It takes a few moments, but the large ork eventually nods, as he realises what the elf in the gray hooded cloak is referring to.
"That fucken place" says the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, who then dismissively snorts, before continuing with "What a fucken hole alright".
The warleader of the ork race then says "Got loots there, but also heaps of fucken cunts trying to get it".
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world then scowls as he recalls his last visit to The City of Ruins nearly twenty years ago.
"Gots into heaps of fucken rumbles there last fucken time" says the large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque.
Dorkindle who has quite a selective memory, that's putting it lightly, he definitely forgets a lot of the things he's done in life.
Then says to the elven spy and the human cleric "Went through a fucken magicky gate, ended ups in another fucken city" followed by "Gots into a fight with a big, motherfucken dragon, and Dorc means fucken big, that cunt was fucken silly massive".
With a shake of his head, the large ork who is the son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
Who he killed, which was only fair, as she was doing her best to kill him at the time. Ork relationships, no matter who they're between, whether it's family members, friends, or neighbours, are what one would call complicated.
Says to Dalin and Beldane "That fucker was at least five times bigger than any other cunt dragon Dorc has had a scrap with".
The ork weaponsmith continues with "We fucked off back through that magicky gate" he briefly pauses, before adding "Though me thinks Farque stayed behind, he must of done that big fucken dragon cunt in".
Though the elven spy and the fighting cleric know the ork warleader is more than a little prone to exaggerating things.
They know he's speaking the truth here, as they've heard from some of the others in the group.
Who were in The City of Ruins nearly twenty years ago. When they went through a giant portal, and ended up on the otherside of the world.
Where the encountered one of the Greater Dragons of Volunell, who lord Farque ended up destroying.
"What were we fucken gettin' in that shitty city in the hole that time?" muses the ork who was named warleader of his race by lord Farque a number of years ago.
"A big fucken sparkly gem me thinks" murmurs Dorkindle, who pauses for a moment or two, as he suddenly remembers something.
A grin appears on the broad, green, brutish looking face of the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks.
Who then chuckles before he says "Ha! Dorc gotta a fucken bakery there".
Both Dalin and Beldane's eyebrows shoot up when they hear that from the large ork as the was the last thing they were expecting Dorkindle to say, he continues with "In that little town above the fucken hole".
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world, who a few moments ago, couldn't care less that they were flying to The City of Ruins.
Is suddenly buoyed at the prospect of getting there.
As he remembers purchasing a bakery in one of the towns up on the lip of the massive hole in the ground, which The City of Ruins, or Dalphene as it once was known as, is located in.
"Good fucken cakes there" murmurs the large ork, who doesn't remember the conversation the group had yesterday afternoon as they discussed what they would be doing once they get close to The City of Ruins.
But he can clearly remember the quality of the cakes from the bakery he purchased at The City of Ruins, from his last visit there nearly twenty years ago.
"Fucken get some" murmurs Dorc da Orc as drool dribbles down his chin.
The ork general in the armies of Farque, then grunts and asks the elven spy and the fighting cleric "How fucken long it gonna take us to get there?".
"From what i understand, about half a day's flight from here" says the spy who hails from the elven principality of Alínlae.
"But we'll be stopping off before we get there" adds Dalinvardèl Tanith, who continues with "So who knows when we'll actually get there".
"Better be fucken soon" grunts Dorkindle, then the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks says "Dorc hungry".
Then the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world heads to the nearest leader, to go below decks to the galley, to see what's for breakfast.
The warleader of the ork race is so preoccupied at the prospect of getting to The City of Ruins, or Dalphene as it was once called thousands of years ago.
To see the bakery he purchased nearly two decades ago. And the cakes they have there.
That he doesn't even notice his bitter rival, sir Percavelle Lé Dic. Coming up on deck from the ladder on the port side of the sleek looking, single masted airship.
That's originally from the Sultanate of Dreese, which is all the way over on the far east coast of the continent.
Seeing his bitter rival Dorc da Orc heading below deck, sir Percavelle Lé Dic loudly mutters "Filthy beast".
The large, heavily armoured knight is disappointed the large ork totally ignores him as he heads below deck.
The middle aged nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic, who has his full helm tucked under his right arm.
Shakes his head in disgust as the ork general disappears below deck.
Then the former paladin spots Dalinvardèl Tanith and Beldane the cleric over on the starboard side, here in a midships.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by the rest of the group, joins them at the starboard rail.
With his left hand shading his eyes as the sun continues to rise, the member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che, says "Is that Eweteets, wot?" as he looks away to the southeast.
"It is" replies Beldane the cleric, who then asks the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic "Have you been there Percy?".
The former paladin sourly smiles at being called Percy, something he doesn't particularly care for.
No matter what the nobleborn knight says, or does. He can't get the others in the group to stop calling him Percy.
"I've been there a few times" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who then adds "Wot".
"Fine city i suppose" continues the large, heavily armoured knight, who then adds in a disparaging tone of voice "A fair too many holy places to the wrong gods to my liking".
He shrugs his broad shoulders, then says "What can you do, wot".
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief, in the east of his homeland, the kingdom of Druvic.
Then looks away to the north, the direction they're heading as the captain of the Quick Gull calls out an order.
And a moment later, the small, dark, sleek looking, single masted vessel starts rising in altitude in the cold autumn, morning air.
"Though i have heard of this City of Ruins" says the Druvician nobleman, who continues with "I have not visited it before, wot".
Both Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy and Beldane the cleric nod to that, then the spy who hails from the elven principality of Alínlae, says "Nor have we".
"Hmmm doth wonder if the rumours are true about it, wot" muses the former paladin who is part of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
"That it is a free for all" adds Percy who continues with "Peoples of all description, battling one another as they hunt for treasure, wot".
Nodding his hooded head, the spy Tanith says "From what I've heard, that's pretty much what it is".
"Same" says the fighting cleric who is a member of the church of Glaine, who then adds "That's what I've heard as well" followed by "It's an open battlefield through quite a lot of it".
Sounds like my kind of place, wot, sir Percavelle Lé Dic thinks to himself.
"Sounds like our kind of place" Dalinvardèl Tanith dryly says in the elven language to Beldane the cleric.
Who wryly smiles, as the three of them, fighting cleric, elven spy, and former paladin.
Look away to the north, this cold autumn morning. In the direction the Quick Gull is heading.
Towards the city once known in antiquity as Dalphene, but is now commonly called, The City of Ruins . . . . . .