The Find 62.

Autumn.

In the north of the central region of the Southlands. Within the giant hole located there. Lies the ancient city of Dalphene. More commonly called The City of Ruins.
"Bad?" asks Jorkamin the mercenary captain with a grimace of pain.
"Could be worse" says Jenin the sorceress, who continues with "You could be dead".
"Thanks" sourly says the mercenary captain as he lays there in pain.
He takes a deep breath, then says to the practitioner of magic "Well go ahead, get it over with".
The sorceress nods her head, then she casts a healing spell upon the mercenary captain, who promptly falls asleep.
Jorkamin wakes up later, finding himself somewhere else, lying on a bedroll, with a thick blanket covering him.
It's fairly gloomy as he looks around, and he realises he's in a room in one of the ruins the company uses here in the northern half of the pit.
The mercenary captain winces as he suddenly remembers what happened last night.
Then he lifts up the thick blanket and looks down at himself. He faintly smiles as he finds himself in one piece.
After what happened last night, when the tower he was up, collapsed all around him, basically falling on him.
Which he was lucky to survive, and to get dug out of by others in the company.
"Fucking hell" mutters Jorkamin as he recalls the massive explosion that nearly killed him.
Then he scowls in disgust as he recalls that not only did he lose his second warship, but he also lost another wyvern and it's rider.
He lets out a sigh of frustration, then sits up, and is about to call out, when the wooden door to the room opens.
And the sorceress Jenin enters, followed by Marissa, who is holding a lamp.
"How are you cap?" asks Jenin, who is one of the spellcasters in the largest mercenary company down here in the City of Ruins.
"Better" says Jorkamin, who continues on with "Thanks".
The mercenary captain looks at Marissa, and asks her "Still nighttime?".
With a shake of her head, Marissa the mercenary says "Dawn cap" followed by "Damn foggy out there at the moment".
Jorkamin grunts when he hears that, then recalling what happened during the night, he asks "Any word about Darmos?".
The two women share a look, then the sorceress Jenin says "He's most likely dead cap".
The practitioner of magic follows that with "Those two explosions that destroyed his rift were massive".
She continues with "It's a miracle you and a handful of others survived the one at this end".
Jorkamin winces, then the mercenary captain asks "How many did we lose there?".
After another shared look between the women, it's Marissa who answers with "With the forty or so who went through the rift with Darmos" she briefly pauses before adding "Nearly sixty were still in the ancient building next to the tower you were up".
Once more Marissa pauses, before continuing with "We pulled you and three others out of the tower" followed by "And we dug out eight who were still alive in the building next to it".
The mercenary captain grimaces then he mutters "Fuck". As he works out he's lost nearly a hundred of his company in those explosions that destroyed the rift that Darmos had cast.
That's at least a third of all those he has here to the north of the neutral zone of the City of Ruins.
"Send word south to bring up more of the company" says Jorkamin the captain of the largest mercenary company down here in the giant hole in the ground.
"I've already done that cap" says Marissa, who is one of Jorkamin's officers in the company.
"Did that when you were out" adds Marissa, who follows that with "They've started arriving".
The mercenary captain grunts, then with a nod of his head, he murmurs "Good".
Jorkamin then slightly winces as he realises that he no longer has a second in command of the company with Darmos dead.
He lets out a sigh, then with the help of Jenin the sorceress he stands up. He's a little wobbly at first.
But he walks back and forth a few times across the room, and he's soon steady on his feet.
Looking at Marissa, he says to her "Marissa you're now acting second".
Jorkamin didn't have an actual second in command of the company. Just that he basically treated Darmos as his second.
As the second in command of any mercenary company is truly a position of power.
For if the captain of the company dies. The second takes over the company fully. Though they might have to fight others to do so.
"If i die, the company is yours" says Jorkamin who follows that with "If that happens, there's a couple of things i want you to do".
He pauses for a moment or two, before he continues on with "Make sure you wipe out Hamblett and Jarnok's companies" followed by "And whoever it was that was responsible for destroying our ships, and the wyverns" he then adds "The ones who destroyed that rift that Darmos cast".
"Will do cap" says Marissa the mercenary as she realises the massive responsibility that Jorkamin has placed upon her if anything was to happen to him.
"But for now, we're going to find whoever the fuck did that to us last night and kill them" says Jorkamin the mercenary captain, followed by "And continue our battle with Jarnok and Hamblett".
"How is he?" asks Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit as he looks at the wizard that lord Farque captured during the night.
"Still out" says Mira Reinholt the mage who has just woken up after taking a nap.
"Must of got knocked the fuck out" murmurs the halfling who like the once powerful mage, is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
His fellow councilor grunts in agreement, then gets up and starts packing his stuff up.
While the wizard Darmos lies there, still unconscious after being captured during the night.
"Foggy out there" states Jarjin Littlefoot, a former air sailor from the Sultanate of Dreese, a nation that lies on the far east coast of the continent. "Just settling in" adds the halfling who isn't what he appears to be, who continues on with "Pretty thick too".
The mage who is from the city-state of Vexil, his homeland he's in exile from, nods his head.
Then after he picks up his sword, and straps the double bladed weapon across his back.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster looks down at the unconscious wizard, and says "Fuck if I'm going to carry him".
When the mage Reinholt looks at his fellow councilor, the hobbit who previously served in the air fleet of the Sultan of Dreese, says "Don't look at me".
The hobbit, 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.
Continues with "No way in hell I'm carrying him around" followed by "He's easily twice my weight and more".
The unconscious wizard in Jorkamin's mercenary company, isn't exactly slight.
He's a rather portly individual, who by the looks of him, hasn't exactly lacked any meals in recent times,
"Maybe i can get Beldane or Percy to carry him" murmurs the once powerful mage who rubs his chin as he thinks about it.
Then the two of them turn as they hear someone enter the ruins, coming through the next room along.
They both know who it is, as they can both hear the loud grumbling and growling in a language they don't understand. A language they don't want to understand.
Dorc da Orc walks into the room, and with barely a grunt at Mira Reinholt the mage and Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman.
The large ork picks up the right leg of the unconscious wizard who was captured during the night.
The ork warleader turns, and with every intention of not picking up the captured spellcaster.
He takes a step, intending to drag the wizard Darmos behind him. The ork weaponsmith grunts again at the two councillors.
And just as he's about to walk out of the room, he suddenly stops as a shout in the ork language can be heard from outside.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world sourly smiles.
Then he picks the unconscious wizard completely up off the ground, and slings the mercenary spellcaster up over his right shoulder.
The large ork, who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
Exits the room, after grunting again at the halfling who is a former air sailor. And the spellcaster, who was once the most powerful mage of his generation. To be found anywhere in the Southlands.
Until he was stripped of most of his powers when he went offworld through a rift/void spell that he accidentally cast a number of years ago.
The Vexilian mage in exile, and the hobbit who is a former air sailor, share a look, before they follow the warleader of the ork race out of the room, then outside.
Stepping outside, the mage Reinholt lifts the hood of his cloak up, and places it on his head.
The practitioner of magic who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, looks around at the foggy environs.
As Dorc da Orc wanders off to where lord Farque is standing, while Beldane the cleric walks over to the two councilors.
"A word with you Mira" quietly says Beldane the cleric.
The mage Reinholt yawns, and leans back against the ruin he was just in, and says "Go ahead".
"A bit of a problem" quietly says the powerful cleric who hails from the kingdom of Nastell.
"Oh?" says the exiled Vexilian mage, who is suddenly interested in what Beldane has to say.
So is Jarjin Littlefoot, who is standing next to his fellow councilor, the swordmaster Reinholt.
The fighting cleric in the church of Glaine explains the problem he has. As he does, Mira Reinholt frowns then nods in understanding.
"Saanea is having the same problem" quietly says the powerful spellcaster, who continues with "She can do it for longer, but i don't know how long she can hold out for".
Beldane briefly pauses before continuing with "The two of us aren't as skilled and experienced as you are councilor".
"Hmmmm" murmurs the spellcaster who was the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil.
Until he was kicked off it, and sent into exile for betraying his homeland during the Battle of Vexil.
"Keep doing it for a bit" quietly says Mira Reinholt, who continues on with "I'll just go and have a word with Farque".
The once powerful mage heads off, and is followed by the halfling originally from the Sultanate of Dreese.
They find the undead warlord standing at the corner of the next ruin along. As usual, Dorc da Orc is with the large, heavily armoured deathlord.
The large ork is crouching down, with the unconscious wizard Darmos over his right shoulder.
"Bit of a problem" Mira Reinholt quietly tells the undead warlord, the once powerful mage follows that with "Beldane and Saanea, can't go too much longer with holding their power within themselves, especially the cleric".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque who is looking away through the fog, turns his full helmed head and looks at the Vexilian mage in exile.
He's silent for a few moments, then lord Farque quietly says in the elven language "Have them hold for a bit longer".
The lord of the death realm continues with "Once they stop, they'll both be sensed fairly quickly".
"We close?" quietly asks Mira Reinholt the mage.
Lord Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, nods his full helmed head, and quietly says "Less than a hundred yards".
The councilor Reinholt grunts when he hears that, then he asks the undead warlord "Those elven twins?".
"Those elven twins" is the reply of the large, heavily armoured deathlord as he goes back to looking through the fog that's settled across the pit, on this cold autumn morning down here in the City of Ruins . . . . . .