The Find.

Autumn.

The Quick Gull. Heading northeast over the Sarvill Plains. Early one clear, crisp morning.
"Could be anywhere here, really" says Mira Reinholt the mage pointing at one of the maps on the table, here in the captain's cabin of the Quick Gull.
"Definitely there I'd say" says Helbe the elven thief pointing in the same general location that his fellow spellcaster has just pointed at.
"Seems to be" says Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit, who nods his head in agreement with the two practitioners of magic.
Then the three of them, all members of the personal council to lord Farque.
Look at the undead warlord who is sitting on the bench seat at the stern window of the cabin. Looking out to the southwest, the direction they've come from, since leaving the city-state of Brattonbury a few days ago.
The heavily armoured deathlord turns his full helmed head and looks at the trio standing around the table.
"It's there, since all the information we've gathered indicates it is" says lord Farque, who after another look out the stern window, gets up and joins the three at the table.
Looking down at the maps spread across the table, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, whose full helmed head almost touches the ceiling in the cabin.
Says in a sarcastic tone of voice "It would of been nice if someone who flaked out, didn't use the name of some ancient land that even i hadn't heard about" followed by "A nation that only existed for a few fucking decades at that".
Helbe the elven thief winces at that, and keeps his eyes on the maps. As he still isn't sure why when he blacked out a few months ago.
When his power of foresight most recently took him over. Told him the person they have to find, lived in a nation that hadn't existed in over a millennia.
"At least i got their name" murmurs the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel.
"You hope" dryly says the lord of the death realm.
The elven masterthief blinks, and wonders if the name his foresight told him, is indeed correct.
No matter, the highly talented elven magic user thinks to himself, who then silently adds, at least I've got an image of who they are.
"Cut across the east of Druvic perhaps?" asks the once powerful mage, Mira Reinholt who points out a possible route they could take.
"We'll skirt the east of Druvic" says lord Farque, who also goes by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands.
With an armoured finger, the undead warlord points out the route they should take to their destination.
As he does, the lord and ruler of the lands that bears his family's name, says "Up through here, between the east of the Sunreach Mountains, and the west of the Colevar Mountain Range".
The undead warlord who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to, The Destroyer, continues with "Then up north through here".
"West of Eweteets?" asks the mage Reinholt, who hails from the city-state of Vexil, his homeland he's in exile from.
The heavily armoured deathlord nods his full helmed head yes in reply to that, then he says "Then it's less than a days flight northwest of that to The City of Ruins".
The trio who along with the honorary member, Shur Kee the monk. And the Seneschal of the lands Farque, Kreece Van Der Linden the mage. Make up the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Nod in agreement with the large, heavily armoured deathlord.
Then Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit says "We still don't know how big this nation over a thousand years ago actually was".
The halfling, who isn't what he appears to be, continues with "A city-state?" followed by "Or something bigger?".
"Well Dalphene was already in ruins when this nation was in existence" says Draugadrottin, using the original name for what now is known as The City of Ruins.
"We'll just have to figure it out when we get there" adds the undead being who leads the group.
"Should we stop at Eweteets, or over in Kuradum to see if we can find out anything about it?" asks the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation.
Until he was stripped of most of his powers when he went offworld through a rift/void spell he accidentally cast.
"A waste of time" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who continues with "I doubt they'll have anything different than what we've already found out".
The large figure in the dark blue, black full suit of heavy plate armour, then adds "Besides both of those city-states are not even half the age of when this nation was around".
The three of them, both spellcasters, and the halfling, nod in agreement with that.
Then the hobbit who is from the far east coast of the continent, the Sultanate of Dreese to be exact, muses "Wonder why it lasted just a few decades?".
"Probably destroyed in a war most like" says the young elven noble, who is a member of the royal family that rules the island principality of Laerel.
"Most likely" says the lord of the death realm, who follows that with "Dozens, if not hundreds of nations have disappeared across the Southlands over the last five thousand years".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque then adds "Most because of war, or a disaster of some kind, or even pestilence" followed by "Lots of reasons, but the most common is war".
The other three are all in agreement with that, as they've all see their share of wars in each of their lifetimes, here in the Southlands.
"We'll start in the towns, villages and farming communities just to the south of The City of Ruins" says the deathlord of Farque.
The mage Reinholt, who like his fellow spellcaster, Helbe the elven thief, has taken his hood off his head, nods then muses "Wonder if anyone bothered to fix that stationary rift there?".
"I doubt it" says the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, who follows that with "The portal is damaged on both sides isn't it?".
"I blasted it apart on this side" says the Vexilian mage in exile.
"The otherside was damaged when that asshole Greater Dragon was trying to destroy me" states lord Farque.
The other three fall silent at that. As they often forget the undead warlord killed one of the mythical creatures, that are the Greater Dragons, the creators of the world of Volunell.
For the two spellcasters, Mira Reinholt, and prince Helbenthril Raendril.
They'll never forget that experience, as they were there. Barely escaping from the opposite side of the world from The City of Ruins.
Whilst lord Farque, by himself. Stayed behind, and fought and destroyed the Greater Dragon Kor. Who was the god-king of Kaevatil*.
A nation on the complete opposite side of the world from The City of Ruins.
While Jarjin Littlefoot, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of the halfling from the far east coast of the continent.
Wasn't yet a member of the group at the time. He would join them about a year and half after that.
"I barely got through it after waking back up" adds the heavily armoured deathlord, who follows that with "And then it failed after i came back through".
Both the human mage, and the elven magic user nod, as they remember the events from nearly twenty years ago.
When they, and the group at the time, were in The City of Ruins. Searching for treasure. But finding something completely different all together.
"What's a bet we'll find some of our answers there" says the young elven noble who is a member of the royal family that rules the island principality of Laerel.
"Not much of a bet" says the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
"I wouldn't be surprised if they're actually there" adds the practitioner of magic, who at seventeen was the youngest member ever of the mage council of Vexil.
Until he was kicked off it, and sent into exile, for turning against his homeland during the Battle of Vexil.
"I'd rather hope not" dryly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who continues with "If there's a giant shithole in the Southlands, it's Dalphene" followed by "And the people there tend to be what you find in a fucking shithole".
Both spellcasters, Mira Reinholt and prince Helbenthril Raendril nod in agreement with the lord of the death realm.
For Dalphene, or The City of Ruins as it's more commonly called. Is the home of some of the worst rogues you'll ever find in the Southlands.
Where gangs of people, mercenary companies, and even small armies, as well every type of adventurer you can think of.
Are in Dalphene, searching for treasure, and anything else worth of value in the ancient city.
Where running battles are fought over a particular section that's more profitable than others.
While tribes, and tribe being too liberal of a word in this instance. Of wild goblins, live in the ground surrounding the city, and within the ancient ruins as well.
All the while, airships with day trippers, fly from the city of Eweteets. Journey there to watch and observe the ancient city in the ground. Usually in a festive mood, as if it's a holiday outing.
"Knowing us, they'll probably be there" says Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman in a slightly dry tone of voice. Which earns him a glare from the undead warlord.
"Let's hope not eh" quickly says the halfling who clears his throat, and looks at the maps on the table.
Hoping the deathlord of Farque takes his attention off of him.
"Yes" says Draugadrottin, who then adds in a dry tone "Let's fucking hope not".
"We've had a good run of it in the last decade" says Helbe the elven thief, who continues with "Ever since Tam really" followed by "They've all been fairly stable individuals who have joined the group".
"Except Percy" dryly says Mira Reinholt the mage.
"Except Percy" says the elven princeling in agreement with his fellow spellcaster.
Then the elven master assassin adds "Tam, Lis, Tovis, Dalin, Beldane and Saanea are all fairly sane and level headed, even with some of the problems they've had in their lives".
The elf, who is the envoy for the armies of Farque when they're hired out in a conflict or a war, briefly pauses before he adds "Unlike some of the older members of the group".
Both Mira Reinholt and Jarjin Littlefoot scowl, then the exiled Vexilian mage says "What's that supposed to mean?".
"Well" says the highly talented elven magic user who darts a look at the large figure in the dark suit of full heavy plate armour.
"It means you lot who have been around longer are fuckups" says lord Farque, who nods at the elven princeling, as he adds "Including you".
Though Helbe the elven thief goes slightly red with embarrassment, he nods in agreement with the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Zubutai, even though it hasn't happened in nearly two years, you keep fucking dying" says the undead warlord, who then adds "Stop doing that, it's a fucking pain in the ass to keep bringing you back to life".
"Then there's Shur Kee, who has, and always will be off in his own fucking world all the time because of who, or more rightly, what he is" says Draugadrottin.
"And Helbe you're a fucking clepto, and always will be, even with the added responsibility I've given you over recent years" adds Des'tier.
"As for you mage, you maybe calmer and not fly off the handle as you did when you were younger" says lord Farque, who continues with "But ever since you came back with most of your powers gone, you've become fucking obsessive about certain things".
The heavily armoured deathlord briefly pauses, before he says in an extremely dry tone of voice "And then there's Dorc" followed by "Nothing more needs to be said about him".
The others all definitely agree with that from the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Then the undead being points at the elven master archer, to be exact, at his right shoulder as he says "I'm not forgetting you gnat" followed by "You're just as fucking annoying as this lot at times".
On the right shoulder of prince Helbenthril Raendril, Narladene the ground pixie refrains from scowling as lord Farque, who is the only one who can see her at the moment, stares at her.
The naturally magical creature who is attached to the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel.
Just nods her head in reply to what the undead warlord just said about her, and the others.
"So if we find this new one, hopefully not down in The City of Ruins" says the deathlord of Farque.
Who looks at the others around the table here in the captain's cabin of the Quick Gull, before he adds "Let's hope they're like the younger members of the group" followed by "And not like you fucking lot" . . . . . .

*A nation on the same continent as Nors and Tran.