Wonderful 34.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Mira Reinholt the mage wakes up and yawns, the once powerful mage pushes the blankets, the tops of which are up over his face, down. He sits up in the early morning sunshine, and looks around.
The Vexilian mage in exile looks down to the right, where about thirty yards away, the wyvern lies sleeping. The mage Reinholt then looks behind him, and up, where about fifty yards away, is the snow line on this particular mountain. Wherever the spellcaster, who is also a highly skilled swordmaster looks, he sees no sign of lord Farque, who left in the middle of the night, just after they landed here.
Mira Reinholt is in the mountains in the west of the principality of Maladimbáh, the exiled Vexilian mage who is on the north facing side of a mountain, yawns again and stands up, then stretches in the morning sunlight, on what's a cool, but clear, summer's day here in the mountainous elven principality.
The swordmaster Reinholt bends down and picks up the water bag lying next to his blankets, the once powerful mage as he has done a lot over the last few of days, drinks a fair bit of water, as he continues to purge the toxins out of his body, after being forced to drink a potion for over a month, that's blocked him from his magic.
The spellcaster from south of the equator, who is still unable to tap his meager stores of magical power. Knows that it's only time before he gets his powers back. And if his calculations are correct, he expects them back sometime today, or maybe tomorrow at the latest.
After drinking a lot of what, the inevitable happens, the mage Reinholt needs to take a piss. Over the last three days, the exiled Vexilian mage has never pissed so much in his life.
The highly skilled swordmaster with eyes closed sighs in relief as he urinates, then he opens his eyes as he continues to wee, and sees the wyvern wake, open a large eyelid and stare at him, then let out a squawk.
"Wonderful" dryly murmurs Mira Reinholt the mage as he stands there feeling totally vulnerable in the morning sunshine, cock in hand, taking a piss that feels like it will never end, while a rather annoyed looking wyvern stares at him, at what can only be described as indignation.
The once powerful mage finally stops pissing, much to his relief. He does up his breeches, then mutters in the elven language "Someone should stick a bloody big spear in you" as he looks at the wyvern, who again squawks at him.
The wyvern like all of it's kind, is temperamental, and it being tame, like all tame one's, makes it more temperamental in comparison to it's wild cousins.
The large winged creature barely tolerates the mage Reinholt, though it's more than well behaved around lord Farque.
Infact the spellcaster who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster has never seen a wyvern so well behaved, than this one is around the undead warlord, who speaks to it in a language Mira Reinholt has no idea what it is.
The mage, who was once the youngest member of the mage council of Vexil, in the history of that large city-state in the Southlands. Can barely tolerate the wyvern himself, though it's proven useful over the last few days in their travels across the principality of Maladimbáh.
The swordmaster Reinholt shakes his head as he looks at the wyvern for a few more moments, then the once powerful mage sets about making himself some breakfast from their supplies.
Well his supplies really, since lord Farque doesn't eat or drink anything unless he wants to. And the wyvern only hunts when the undead warlord lets it, usually when he and the mage Reinholt are upon it, and the lord of the death realm has total control over it.
After eating, Mira Reinholt packs up his things, then sits down upon the grassy ground more than halfway up the mountain he's on, the Vexilian mage in exile ignores the wyvern that's stretching in the sunshine, flapping it's wings, before finally settling back down again.
Instead the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, closes his eyes, and starts on a number of mental exercises that help him with his spellcraft. The mage may not have access to his powers at the moment, but he can do other things that aid him in his calling.
With eyes closed, Mira Reinholt basically falls into a trance, he's close to dozing in the morning sunlight, and is oblivious to pretty much everything around him as he starts with a counting exercise, and goes on from there.
The mage Reinholt is that state for a fair amount a time during the morning, until his concentration is finally broken by a loud squawk from the wyvern.
The swordmaster Reinholt sourly smiles, then opens his eyes, looks at the wyvern and mutters "Shut up you overgrown flying lizard" in the elven language which the large winged creature doesn't understand, unlike the common language, and the language which lord Farque speaks to it in, which it does understand.
The exiled Vexilian mage sees that the wyvern is up slightly on it's back haunches, and is looking off to the west, the highly skilled swordmaster looks away in that direction too.
It's sometime before the once powerful mage spots what the wyvern is looking at, Mira Reinholt stands up as he watches lord Farque walking in this direction.
Once the undead warlord rejoins the mage Reinholt, he hands something to the spellcaster, who like himself, is from south of the equator. "Where did you get this?" asks the swordmaster Reinholt in surprise as he looks at the cylindrical brass eyepiece that he's now holding "There's a hermit, a scholar, nobleborn too, who is living in a hut i spotted from the air last night" says lord Farque, who then adds "I got it from him" the heavily armored deathlord says "Here" and hands the Vexilian mage in exile a cloth bag containing bread and fruit.
After the swordmaster Reinholt packs away the new supplies, he examines the cylindrical eyepiece, as the deathlord of Farque, who is also known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, explains to him "He's studying the local wildlife here in this area of the principality, has done for last century or so".
Mira Reinholt who sees that the cylindrical eyepiece is better than the one that he used to have, which was taken from him when was first taken prisoner in the coastal city-state of Renoa in the north of the Southlands. Who already wants to change the leather wrapped around it, to a plain black or brown leather wrapping, instead of the brown leather with elven motifs currently wrapped around it, says to the undead warlord "You didn't, you know".
"I didn't what?" asks the tall, heavily armoured figure of the lord of the death realm who stares at the once powerful mage, who clears his throat, and after a brief pause, asks "Didn't kill him for it did you?" as he holds up the leather wrapped, cylindrical brass eyepiece.
"Of course not" says lord Farque, who then adds "What kind of stupid fucking question is that?" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, says "Well, considering". "Considering what?" says the undead warlord in a flat tone as he interrupts the mage Reinholt, who clears his throat once more, and looks away as the large, heavily armoured deathlord stares down at him, then he says "Never mind" the once powerful mage then silently adds in a dry tone, considering you tend to kill everyone you run across.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque who informs the Vexilian mage in exile, that he bought the supplies and the eyepiece, which was a spare of the scholars, then says to Mira Reinholt "Neidegratsyn is his name, he sensed her early last night" Draugadrottin continues with "She was teleporting away to the south and west".
"Probably too tired to cast a rift" says the exiled Vexilian mage, who then adds "If she got any kind of decent rest during the night, she will more than likely be able to cast a rift this morning" lord Farque nods his full helmed head in agreement, then says "So i figured" he nods and says "Most likely" in response to the mage Reinholt saying "Fleeing westward to Belinswae, and the coast there, to that city of Falnic?".
The undead warlord gestures to the nearby wyvern and says to the highly skilled swordmaster "Let's go" the Vexilian mage in exile picks up his pack, and along with lord of the death realm, makes his way down to the waiting wyvern.
Switching to the elven language as they walk towards the wyvern, lord Farque says "That elven scholar Neidegratsyn says that dragon we've heard about, is somewhere in this part of the mountains".
"Can you sense it?" asks Mira Reinholt in the same language as he knows the lord and ruler of the lands Farque can sense anything living or dead, quite a long way away, even dragons, who are unable to be sensed by other spellcasters, like the mage, that's even if he had his powers at the moment.
"No" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who continues with "So it's not within twenty miles of us" the swordmaster Reinholt murmurs "That's a relief" the undead warlord nods in agreement, then as he looks at the wyvern, he silently adds in a dry tone, a good thing too, as it might be a bit of a problem if it turned up.
They get up into the saddle on the wyvern, though after the mage Reinholt has another drink of water, before he sits behind the large figure of lord Farque. They're quickly into the air, and the wyvern is winging away to the south and west across the mountains as they continue their pursuit of the person they're after.
A bit later in the morning, as the large winged creature is flying between peaks, lord Farque, who Mira Reinholt knows is looking everywhere with his incredible eyesight, that allows him to see vast distances, as well ad continually sensing, is just able to hear the undead warlord mutter "Fuck" over the wind that's blowing by them as they fly to the southwest.
The once powerful mage calls out "What is it?" the deathlord of Farque replies with one word, and it's in the elven language "Dragon" . . . . . .

Wonderful 33.

The Nomads Plains...

"Where is it?" asks Halatai "Who knows" replies Amagin as the two of them look around in the darkness, they can see quite clearly as all three moons are in the night sky tonight. "Probably smell it before we see it" dryly says Amagin, which causes his cousin Halatai to chuckle.
The cousins are on herd watch, with the goats and sheep in the corrals in the ground behind them at the moment, after the boys returned them from grazing in the scrubby patches of bushes and tough, straw coloured grass that is occasionally found throughout the dry, arid plains of the nomads.
"Call for it" says Amagin, Halatai mutters "You call it" his cousin, who is holding their small lamp, which they haven't needed to light so far, shakes his head, then quietly says in a dry tone "I'd rather not". "Chicken" says Halatai, who like his cousin, and for that matter, most nomads of the plains, has never seen a chicken before in their lives, the son of the tribe's leader then adds "I'll do it, since you won't" Amagin is okay with that, as he doesn't particularly want to.
"Monster" calls out Halatai in a voice that's only slightly louder than what the two boys have been talking in, then he repeats it "Monster" though this time in the townsmen's language, the common language, which their uncle Saladén the far hunter, has been teaching the boys various words and phrases in.
After getting no response, Halatai then calls out "Dorc" this time they hear a grunt in the distance, followed by a word in a deep growling voice. The two cousins glance at one another, they both shrug, and Halatai quietly says "Might as well" then the two boys set off into the night, heading towards where they've heard the monster named Dorc.
Both boys walk with a staff, as well as their bows over their shoulders, not to mention daggers on their belts. They feel fairly safe in the night, knowing that nothing of note will threaten them, for anything dangerous that usually roams near the tribe's camp and grazing grounds, are no longer a threat.
For as Flalil, Amagin's little sister is want to say. There's no more monsters in the night, because the big green stinky monster on two legs has killed them all.
The two boys occasionally glance up at the night sky, for the only thing they really have to worry about, is passing wyverns, though the large winged creatures prefer not fly at night, though once in a while you might see and hear them flying in night sky.
"Dorc" says Halatai again, which is rewarded with another grunt, followed by a word in the nomads dialect, which causes both cousins to sourly smile because they've just been called cunts.
Amagin nudges his cousin walking beside him, and quietly says in their dialect "To the right" Halatai looks that way, and in the moonlight he sees a large figure standing about forty feet away. The two boys cross the flat ground to it, once they stand next to it, though not too close, as it fair reeks, Halatai says "Hey Dorc" in the language of the townsmen.
"Hey cunts" replies Dorc da Orc in the same language as he glances down at the two human children, one of whom says something he can't understand in the dialect of their people, as they don't speak the common language that well, nor does he really.
The ork warleader grunts as he hears the translation provided to him by lord Farque's sword which is across his back at the moment, the large ork then points to the ground a bit further infront of them, and he says "Foods" in the common language, and he makes an eating gesture.
The two boys lift their eyebrows at that, for they know the word food in the townsmen's language, but in no way do they see anything resembling it. They follow the monster, who they've learned is an ork, whatever that is. To where he's pointed, there he kneels down on the sandy ground, puts his face right down and starts sniffing.
In the light provided by the three moons in the night sky, the cousins Halatai and Amagin glance at one another and shrug, for they know the monster has an incredible sense of smell. Not to mention the other senses, as he can see in the night like it's the day, as well as see far distances, not to mention he has hearing that can pick up things from miles away.
The cousins, along with other members of tribe have learnt to communicate with the monster, speaking in a mix of their own dialect, as well as the language of the hated townsmen. Also with gesturing, and acting out things, which Halatai, Amagin and the other children of the tribe are particularly adept at, which the large, green, monster always seems to find amusing.
As he's down on all fours, Dorc da Orc grunts in satisfaction, the large ork then gets up, he takes a heavy sledge from his weapons harness, and he starts whacking the ground with the large hammer.
Halatai and Amagin back up a bit when the monster starts swinging it's massive hammer at the ground. With each strike they feel the ground slightly shake beneath their feet, they know Dorc must be hitting the ground extremely hard if they're to feel even just the slightest of movement beneath them.
"What's he doing?" asks Amagin in the dialect of the plains nomads "He's hitting the ground with that big bloody hammer" says Halatai who is the son of the tribe's leader "I know that" says Amagin in an exasperated tone of voice, who then goes onto add "Why's he doing it?". "I don't know" says the slightly older of the two cousins, who shrugs his shoulders before continuing on in a dry tone of voice with "Why the hell does it do most things?" Amagin is quiet for a moment, then he says "True".
For they, along with everybody else in the tribe, have learnt that the monster, the ork, Dorc, does the strangest of things, for the oddest of reasons. Though that's a fair understatement if there was ever one.
Dorc da Orc grunts as hears a loud crack in the ground beneath him, he hits the ground a few more times with the heavy sledge he's swinging. Then he grunts once more, then hurriedly jumps back after hearing a shouted warning in his mind from lord Farque's sword. The large ork waves the two children back too after he growls at them to "Get the fuck back" in the common language, which they vaguely understand thanks to his gesture to move back.
Dorkindle swings the heavy sledge again, reaching out in a long arc to do so, he hops back quickly as the ground gives way, and a decent sized hole falls in. Then after returning the sledge to his weapons harness, then not even bothering to look, the warleader of the ork race takes a couple of running steps forward, and jumps down through the hole in the ground.
"By Awdhîn, what the hell?" murmurs Halatai in a surprised tone after seeing what the monster just did, the two cousins glance at one another, then they edge forward to have a look down into the hole in the ground that Dorc has just jumped into.
There's not a good angle of moonlight shining down through the hole that's over eight feet wide, so Halatai quietly says to his cousin "Light the lamp" Amagin has already crouched down and is taking out his flint and striker, to light the lamp.
And as Amagin light the lamp, Halatai is certain he smells something down in the hole that isn't the monster, then all of a sudden they hear it say something, it sounds vaguely familiar, like catch, but slightly different, then something lands on the ground just a few yards away to the right from the two boys as they hear Dorc down in the hole, chuckling to himself.
With the lamp lit, and Amagin opening up the canvas hole, so that a beam of light comes from the lamp, he shines it away to their right, at the ground.
"Fuck" yelps Halatai who sees it first, the son of the tribe's leader takes his staff and whacks the deadly sand viper on the head as it slithers towards them in sluggish manner, he hits it a couple of more times just to make sure it's dead, then he looks at his cousin Amagin who mutters "Shit" in a stunned of voice.
The two boys share a look, then they move forward, and Amagin opens the hole in the leather covering on the lamp wider, and shines the light down through the hole in the ground.
They see it's a cave, and they spot the monster Dorc, who is rubbing the back of the head, they also see the floor of the cave is moving. As Amagin shines the light directly down, they see that the floor of the cave is covered with snakes, for the cave is a viper pit, containing hundreds if not thousands of the deadly creatures.
"Fuck, you didn't have to do that" mutters Dorc da Orc as he rubs the back of his head where the hilt of lord Farque's sword has just whacked him for throwing the snake up at the two boys above.
The ork weaponsmith who mutters "Silly snakes" as he's bitten multiple times in the legs by the sand vipers, knows that food out here in the nomads plains isn't exactly plentiful for the nomads. And having eaten snakes with them, which they cook over hot coals after rubbing a spice mix on the snakes that they catch and cut open length wise, the large ork who rather enjoys them cooked like that, knows that the snakes here in this underground cave will be a welcome bounty for the nomads of the tribe he's been living alongside for the last week or so.
Both Halatai and Amagin who are amazed the monster isn't dead as they see it getting bitten over and over again by the deadly vipers, both the more common brown, sandy coloured one, as well as the smaller, and rarer iridescent blue, almost black coloured one. As they know a single bite from either viper will kill a grown man, in mere moments in the case of the smaller rarer snake.
They back up when they hear the monster, say what they think is catch again, this time a bunch of snakes are thrown up through the hole in the ground and land near them, though this time none of them are moving.
To be on the safe side, both Halatai and Amagin whack each snake with their staffs, to make doubly sure that every viper is indeed dead.
Then the two boys start stuffing the dead snakes into the carry sack that Halatai has, all the while, more dead snakes continue to be thrown up through the hole in the ground.
Dorkindle grabs handful after handful of snakes and squeezes them, killing them as they bite him. The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then throws them up out of the hole above him, as he stomps around, squashing dead any of the other vipers who happen to be caught under his large boots. All the while murmuring "Silly snakes" and "Silly fucken snakes" then making hissing sounds at them in reply to the hisses directed at him by the deadly vipers, many of which are in a slightly torpid state, for it's the middle of the night and it's quite cool, not exactly the most active time for any snake.
Quickly Halatai's carry sack is full of dead vipers, and he runs back to the tribe's camp with it, to get more sacks, and other tribe members to help collect the dead snakes which are an unexpected bounty of food found for them by the monster named Dorc.
Amagin remains at the edge of the hole in the ground, whacking the dead snakes that get thrown up from the cave below by the monster, the ork, Dorc.
Soon Halatai returns with a half a dozen others of the tribe, including his father Chanük, and the boy's uncle, Saladén the far hunter. The new arrivals have all brought their staffs with their regular weapons, along with multiple carry sacks after Halatai has informed them at what is happening.
The brothers Chanük and Saldean look down into the hole, and see what's in the cave below "Damn" murmurs a surprised Saldean, who then has to duck quickly out of the way, as he's nearly hit by a bunch of dead snakes that are thrown up out of the hole in the ground.
The work into the night, filling all of the carry sacks they've bought, then after Chanük the tribe leader says to his brother "Tell him that's enough for now" which Saladén repeats in fluent common to the monster down in the cave below.
Dorc da Orc grunts, then stuffs some of the snakes he's just grabbed and killed, into his mouth and starts eating them, the large ork then mumbles around a mouthful of dead snakes "How the fuck me gonna get out of this cunt hole?" as he didn't exactly think of that when he jumped down into the cave.
After much grunting and swearing, where he hauls over a large rock, after he kicks away snakes that get in his way. Dorc da Orc stands upon the large rock, then jumps up and grabs the edge of the hole above.
Then after more grunting, growling and swearing in more than one language, and much exertion, the large ork pulls himself up and out of the hole in the ground.
Lying there on his back, breathing heavily Dorkindle just grunts in response to both Chanük and Saladén who thank him for what he's just done, after they thank him once more, the ork warleader waves a meaty, skillet sized hand, and tells them in the common language "No worries cunts" . . . . . .

Wonderful 32.

Belinswae. The City Of Falnic...

Lisell Maera sits out on the balcony of their rooms, with her eyes closed as much as she watches what's going at the port and in the harbour. At times like this, the orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury wishes she had someone to talk to.
In the past, she would of spoken to Caerik Alsair the air sailor, who she thought of as a surrogate older brother. But with Caerik living in the lands Farque, where he's now a second officer on a warship in lord Farque's air fleet. Destined to become someone of even greater rank. Lis is unable to speak to him about her problems.
Nor is she able to speak with the person she got to know well, and confide in while the group spent extended periods of time in the lands Farque. That being one of her teachers and instructors, the elemental blademaster, Sephiryn Van Der Linden nee Vaitrelle.
The orphan girl from Brattonbury in the Southlands lets out a sigh as she sits in the late afternoon sun, she opens her eyes when someone else joins her out on the balcony.
"You started on this one?" asks Tamric Drubine who sits on the outdoor bench to the right of the one Lis is sitting on. The nobleborn youngster from the kingdom of Sarcrin holds up the book he's got, showing the front cover to the teenager who was brought up in one of the poorer areas of the coastal city of Brattonbury in the Southlands.
"Looks entertaining" dryly says Lisell Maera as she sees it's a military book on the logistics of maintaining an army "I haven't" says the orphan teenager who continues with "One of Dalin's?" as the elven spy has been reading similar books, tomes, and scrolls ever since joining the group three years ago.
"It is" says the son of the former knight of castle Drubine, who has been given the book to read by Helbe the elven thief "Hopefully i don't have to read it" says Lis "Good luck with that" says Tam with a grin upon his face, who then sighs, opens the book to where he's up to, sits back, and starts reading it.
Lisell Maera isn't at all surprised the nobleborn youngster from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin is reading such a book. He's been tasked to read all military books that comes into their possession, as well as various other books. While Lis for the main part, only has to read specific books on warfare, though when she's got any spare time, she has to read those volumes that are similar to the one that Tam is ploughing his way through at the moment.
The two youngsters, with all their training, lessons and what they have to read, know that they're being prepared for certain roles. The two of them even basically know what it is, and where.
For like their friend Caerik Alsair who is no longer part of the group, they're being trained for positions in lord Farque's forces. With Tamric being a commanding officer, while Lisell a scout officer in the deathlord's army. The two of them are correct in that. But they don't know to what extent their positions will be. For they're being trained to go further than what they believe they'll one day be.
The two of them, though close, will never be the greatest of friends. Not just because of the nearly three year age gap, but because of their differing personalities. Are always comfortable around one other, even though they're in those awkward adolescent years of life.
They sit in comfortable silence on the long balcony to the group's suite hear in the White Gull inn, with Tam silently reading the book in his hands. While Lis, when she isn't sitting there with her eyes closed, watches the goings on down in the port and harbour, as the two of them wait for the others to return.
The orphan teen from the city-state of Brattonbury, and the nobleborn youngster from the kingdom of Sarcrin, have been put on a tight leash since their little escaped a couple of weeks ago outside the walls of the city of Falnic. Which ended up with them being far to the southeast of the city, near the nomads plains, where Lis was taken by road bandits and raped.
The teenager from Brattonbury in the Southlands, who so badly wants to talk to someone about her ordeal when she was abducted. Thinks she hears something out in the hallway, the she sourly smiles as she's certain she hears a familiar voice "They're back" says Lis "I know" says Tam who then adds in a dry tone of voice "I can hear him" the nobleborn youngster then adds "Only Dorc is noisier" the orphan teenager faintly smiles at the mention of the missing ork warleader.
They hear the door to the suite open, and the loud and overbearing voice of sir Percavelle Lé Dic say "I tell you, that knave deserved what he got, the filthy deck scrubber is lucky i didn't pummel him back to his poor excuse for a ship" the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che continues with "All because the drunken sot, and drunk in the morning i might add, took affront to my pleasant greeting of the day" there's a pause from the the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic before he adds "Someone has to teach such rapscallions a lesson for disrespecting their betters, so i did, for the greater good of the people of this dullard of a city of course".
"Someone caused a bit of a fracas again" dryly says Tamric Drubine in a quiet tone of voice, Lisell Maera nods her head in agreement, then she quietly says "Sounds like it" as they continue to hear sir Percavelle the paladin, talking to Shur Kee the monk and Dalinvardél Tanith.
A few moments later as the conversation continues on inside, Riley Hait the mercenary ranger walks out onto the balcony and says "Here you two are" the ranger Hait along with Lis and Tam look up, and briefly watch a pair of wyverns fly by, heading north along the coast in the late afternoon sunshine, then Tamric Drubine gestures to back inside, and he says in the elven language "What did he do this time?".
"Punched a sailor in the guts who didn't take too kindly to the lunatic wishing him a good morning" wryly says the ranger Hait in the same language, the mercenary ranger who is in actual fact really a hordes outrider, whose soul just happens to occupy the body of Riley Hait, continues with "Just up the street from here".
"At least he won't get into trouble for that" says the son of the former knight of castle Drubine "True" says Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, who then adds "Nor for the scuffle he got into earlier this afternoon with a bunch of warehouse workers who came stumbling out of a tavern drunk, with one of them bumping into him" the mercenary ranger who was brought up and trained in the elven principality of Envadarlen then says "Surprised he didn't kill any of them, considering he's in his armour and pretty much got most of his weapons on him today".
Both Lis and Tam get up, and look back in through the balcony doors, and see that sir Percavelle Lé Dic is fully armed and armoured, after sitting back down on their respective benches, the nobleborn youngster from the kingdom of Sarcrin says "Surprising indeed" the orphan teen from the city-state of Brattonbury nods her head in agreement for they both know the heavily armoured knight can turn particularly violent, fairly quickly too if he thinks there's been a slight against him.
"You two been here all day?" asks Riley Hait "After we went out with Helbe this morning, he sent us back around mid morning" says Lis, the ranger Hait looks at her and Tam, assessing if they're telling the truth or not. Under the scrutiny of the mercenary ranger, the orphan teenager from the coastal city of Brattonbury in the Southlands, quietly tells him "He sent Narladene with us to make sure we came straight back".
Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson satisfied with that, nods his head, then seeing that Tamric Drubine is holding a book, the elven trained human ranger says to him "A little bit of light reading there before dinner?". "Something like that" sourly says the nobleborn youngster from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who then shows the cover of the book to the mercenary ranger and tells him "You can read it if you want".
"No thanks, i would rather spend the day in the company of sir talks a lot, than read something like that" says the ranger Hait who then continues with "I'll leave that up to you to read" Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman who has read similar tomes during his stays in the lands Farque, silently adds, besides I'm not the one being trained to be a general of an army like you.
The mercenary ranger then glances at Lis who has been fairly quiet, as she has been quite a lot lately, Riley Hait who puts it down to her being a moody teenager at times, quietly says to the orphan from Brattonbury "What you thinking about there Lis?".
Lisell Maera who definitely doesn't want to mention what she's actually thinking about at the moment, says something else that's been at the back of her mind, which all of them have been thinking about lately "I was just wondering when he's going to make a decision to leave".
The ranger Hait nods his head, then he says "I think we're all wondering that Lis" the mercenary ranger after glancing inside at sir Percavelle who is still talking to Shur Kee and Dalinvardél Tanith, then tells the two youngsters "Hopefully he decides soon" Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson silently adds, before that damn knight starts killing people in broad daylight . . . . . .

Wonderful 31.

Belinswae. The City Of Falnic...

"There's definitely something more going on" says Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy who continues with "There's increased travel between here and Maladimbáh". "That justifier who went out last week?" says Riley Hait the mercenary ranger who is speaking in the elven language as is the spy from the elven principality of Alínlae in the Southlands.
"That mage Kaellin?" asks the ranger Hait "The very one" says Dalinvardél Tanith who often goes by his abbreviated name of Dalin, he continues with "This isn't usually a busy time to travel there" the elven spy who was once a member of a household of a noble family from Alínlae, then adds "Only the winter time when they don't travel there at all, is more quiet than the middle of summer".
The mercenary ranger who is in actual fact a hordes outrider from the southern tundra nods his head in agreement. As they've learnt that travel, either by wyvern or on horseback, to the elven principality of Maladimbáh, where you have to pass through part of the nomads plains.
Is busiest at the start of spring through to the beginning of summer, then again during the early autumn, till the middle of that season.
The height of summer as it was a few weeks ago, it's just too hot to travel across the nomads plains. While the winter time is just out of the question, for Maladimbáh is apparently quite a mountainous principality, and traveling through there then is very dangerous indeed.
The two of them are walking through the streets of the city, moving further away from the port as it's another warm, clear, sunny morning in Falnic. And though it's warm, it's no where near as hot as it was in the coastal city as it was a few weeks ago during the height of summer.
The elven spy and the mercenary ranger garner stares from many of those on the streets for the simple fact that they're foreigners, especially Dalinvardél who is a non human, as they're not exactly prominent in a predominantly human city.
After they wait for a street hawker, who is shouting his wares, in this case fruit and vegetables, to go by with his horse drawn cart. The spy Tanith and the ranger Hait cross a street, and make their way onto a bridge. There the two of them stop, and continue their conversation that they're having in the language of the elves.
As Riley Hait and Dalinvardél Tanith lean back up against one of the waist high walls that run along the sides of the bridge, the elven spy quietly says "They've definitely increased their raiding into the plains" the elf who was an assistant to the quartermaster of the Ollinsállé family in the elven principality of Alínlae, then adds "Pretty much all of the justifiers, especially here in Falnic, have guards of theirs, conducting raids out into the plains".
"Fucking townsmen" mutters Riley Hait, who in actual fact Zubutai Timaginson, is a barbarian hordesman of the southern tundra. Who has a lot in common with the nomads of the plains that stretch for hundreds of miles east of the region of Belinswae.
Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, whose ancient ancestors, were originally from the nomads plains. Until they left and traveled thousands of miles away to the south, to the southern tundra, which is about as far south you can go before you hit the southern polar region, where the Ork Range is located, says to the elven spy "So he's looking into that?".
"He is" quietly says Dalin, the he they're referring to, is the nominal leader of their group of adventurers, Helbe the elven thief. "From what i overheard yesterday from some of those guards, it's fairly obvious they're up to more" says the elf who like the human ranger, is from south of the equator.
The elven spy, then goes onto tell the mercenary ranger "There's a good chance that justifier Kaellin is there to sign a treaty so that he can be able to base some of his guards in Maladimbáh" Dalinvardél Tanith continues with "From there it's a hell of a lot easier to raid into the north and east of the plains as it is from here" the elven spy then adds "They'll be able to do it for much of the year too, unlike from here, especially if they get some mild winter weather".
"Shit" mutters Riley Hait, who after a pause, once again mutters "Fucking townsmen" the elf from Alínlae nods his head in agreement with the mercenary ranger, as he shares the same sentiments with him concerning the treatment of the nomads of the arid and dry plains to the east by the justifiers of Belinswae, even though they're here to do something entirely different. Though they, like the rest of the group, wouldn't be surprised if the two are connected in some way. For the missing trio they're looking for, always seem to be get caught up in local conflicts in some way or another.
As he looks out at the port and harbour, and beyond that the open ocean, the ranger Hait shakes his head, then he's about to mention something, when the elven spy quietly says "Hang on, what's going on here?".
"What is it?" asks Riley Hait, Dalinvardél Tanith dryly responds with "Sir talks too much" the mercenary ranger looks to where the elf who is a few inches taller than his six feet, points to, the ranger who was raised and trained in the elven principality of Envadarlen, looks north, to near where the inn they're staying at, the White Gull, is near the base of a hill.
"What's he doing?" asks Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman "Making a scene" dryly says the spy Tanith "I know that" sourly says the ranger Hait, who then says "Wait, is he wearing his armour?" knowing that the elf from Alínlae can see far more clearly than he can at what's happening.
"He is" is the quiet reply of Dalin, Riley slightly grimaces then mutters "Bloody hell" the elven spy nods in agreement, with good reason too.
The subject of their current conversation, sir Percavelle Lé Dic, has been a bit rambunctious of late. He's got into a few confrontations in the last couple of weeks, where he's ended up smacking a few people around, and in one case breaking the arms of a merchant who he thought was cheating him on the payment of something.
The knight in the order of Saint Mar-che has got away with it for the simple reason that those he's given a beating, have been primarily amongst the criminal underclass here in the city of Falnic. And the Justifiers turn a blind eye to that.
Though the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic in the Southlands nearly got into trouble with the incident with the merchant, who was innocent. A justifier looked into that, but the earl of Lé Dic in Druvic got away with because Helbe the elven thief made it so the paladin looked innocent in the incident when the justifier, a sorceress read the mind of sir Percavelle to see what actually happened.
"There's Shur Kee with him" quietly says Dalinvardél Tanith, Riley Hait nods as he spots the short statured monk standing a bit further behind the large, heavily armoured knight who is confronting a trio of people, who the elven spy has told the mercenary ranger, seem to be sailors.
"Can you hear what they're saying?" asks Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson, Dalinvardél Tanith gestures at the nearby port, then says "Too noisy from there, to hear what's happening with them". "Well if that blow hard draws a weapon and starts killing people in broad daylight, that's going to be a hell of a lot different than him cracking the heads of a few street criminals" says the ranger Hait "I agree" quietly says the elven spy.
Then the two of them slightly wince as they see sir Percavelle, with a gauntleted fist, punch one of the men he's confronted, in the stomach. The sailor drops to the ground, where he's obviously dry heaving, while the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, whose visor of his helm is up, stands there with hands on hips, talking to, though most likely, taking down to the trio of sailors.
They watch as the two other sailors help their friend up, and hurry him away, then eventually Shur Kee the monk convinces sir Percavelle Lé Dic to move on as well. And about time too, as a pair of justifier guards come into view on that street, totally unaware of what's just happened.
After a few moments, the ranger Hait shrugs his shoulders, then he says to the elven spy "Come on, let's get going" the mercenary ranger who in reality is actually a hordes outrider from the southern tundra, dryly adds "I'm sure we'll find out what just happened there, since sir windbag is bound to tell us all about it" Dalinvardél Tanith softly chuckles.
Then the two of them continue on their way, hoping to find out any information about the three missing group members, as well as anything else about what the justifiers, the rulers of Falnic are up to concerning recent activity into the nomad plains, and what they're doing traveling to the elven principality of Maladimbáh so often at this time of the year . . . . . .

Wonderful 30.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Kaldeàlil Haldéilv casts teleport when she sees the undead being move, the attractive elven maid winces as she briefly sees the large heavily armoured figure almost disappear, and him move so quickly it's hard to see as she waits, in what feels like a lifetime to her, for her spell to be completed.
The elven magic user breathes a sigh of relief when the familiar blackness of teleportation envelopes her, then she reappears at the far end of the main banquet hall, behind the high table.
Lord Farque gets to the table where Kaldeàlil Haldéilv was, just after she disappears, the undead warlord sourly smiles behind the visor of his full helm. Then as he turns to look at the far end of the banquet hall to where she's teleported to, the heavily armoured deathlord, grabs the elf, a hunter from his garb, who swings a sword at him.
"Thanks" sourly mutters Mira Reinholt the mage when the lord and ruler of the lands Farque streaks away in a blur of motion, leaving him behind. The once powerful mage swings the sword he has, at an elven house guard, one of a handful who rush him.
The sword takes the elf in the face, who goes reeling off to one side screaming in pain. Then a body smashes into the other house guards. The mage Reinholt sees that it's another elf, a forester or hunter by the looks of what he's wearing.
The exiled Vexilian mage looks over to where lord Farque went, and he sees the undead warlord nod his full helmed head to join him.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, who is at one of the open doorways to the main banquet hall here in the tower of the Haldéilv family, rushes into the banquet hall that's erupted into chaos.
Lord Farque looks across to the far side of the banquet hall, to where Kaldeàlil Haldéilv has gone behind the high table. As he does he's hit by an energy bolt, which he ignores as it uselessly bounces off his suit of full, heavy plate armour.
Draugadrottin as he's known by to the people of his lands, senses most of the spellcasters in the banquet hall at or near the high table, including the one that he's after. Then after he backhands an elven house guard across the face, breaking his neck, and sending him tumbling across the floor. And seeing that the mage Reinholt is now heading this way, the undead warlord starts heading towards the high table.
One of the first spellcasters to act is the visiting justifier from the city of Falnic. The mage Kaellin casts a firebeam, that goes directly from the tips of his fingers, to the large, heavily armoured figure that has violently interrupted this evening's dinner in the banquet hall.
"Good luck with that" dryly murmurs Mira Reinholt when he sees the firebeam cast by the mage from the coastal city of Falnic strike lord Farque, who just keeps walking quickly to where the high table is on the far side of the banquet hall.
The once powerful mage like the lord and ruler of the lands Farque has just seen Kaldeàlil Haldéilv run out through a doorway behind the high table. The swordmaster Reinholt jumps over an elf who has tripped up in their attempt to flee. Then the Vexilian mage in exile ducks a sword swung at him, and as he's low, he spins, swinging the sword he's using. Taking the house guard, who just attacked him, across the back of the legs, dropping him to the floor, screaming in pain.
The mage Reinholt picks up the fallen shortsword of that house guard, and now with a weapon in each hand, and feeling more than comfortable with it, the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands hurries to catch up to the lord of the death realm, who he sees a mageglobe heading towards.
After the firebeam hits him with no effect, lord Farque sees a mageglobe heading towards him, the undead warlord side kicks an elven magic user, a member of lord Haldéilv's extended family, who suddenly appears out of thin air right next to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
That elven noble is more than surprised when his wards, a barrier and protection spell fail to stop him from getting kicked so hard in the chest, that his leather armour is torn to shreds across his chest, which shatters apart so violently, that it looks like it explodes.
The elven magic user goes flying backwards with a gaping hole in his chest, with his ribs in pieces, sticking out of his torso, which is open for all to see when he hits the floor, and tumbles to a stop, obviously dead.
After kicking the elven spellcaster, lord Farque grabs the mageglobe out of the air right infront of the visor of his full helm. To say the living piece of magic is more than a little stunned to what's going on, would be an understatement to the extreme.
The heavily armoured deathlord with the confused mageglobe in his gauntleted right hand, leaps towards where the high table is, jumping forwards more than upwards, as he does, he throws the mageglobe at those at and near the high table, who are now all scattering as they realise that what is happening, is more than any of them can handle.
Mira Reinholt doesn't even flinch as there's a loud explosion where the high table is, all was, as the mageglobe comes to a confused end to it's life. The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, is busy blocking a sword with the shortsword he has in his left hand, then he swings the longsword in his right gloved hand, that takes the house guard attacking him, in the neck, almost decapitating the elf.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, jumps over the near headless elven house guard on the floor, and rushes to catch up to lord Farque, who has just called out to him to hurry up.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque kicks an injured elven magic user who is crawling along the damaged floor where the high table was before the mageglobe destroyed it. She goes tumbling across the floor after letting out a shout of pain at getting kicked.
The elven spellcaster, another relative of lord Haldéilv, knocks over a couple of others who are trying to flee the carnage, before she finally comes to a stop almost forty feet from where she originally was. Though now her stomach has been torn open from the kick she received, and her guts and entrails are across the floor behind her.
Lord Farque catches a glimpse of the frightened mage from the city of Falnic fleeing through a nearby door, following an equally frightened lord Haldéilv from the main banquet hall in the keep like tower.
The undead warlord makes his way out the doorway that Kaldeàlil Haldéilv fled through, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque who can sense where the illegitimate daughter of lord Haldéilv is going, turns and looks back into the banquet hall and lord Farque once again calls out "Mage hurry up!".
The heavily armoured deathlord glances down at the slightly charred body of an elven house guard who was blasted through the doorway when the mageglobe exploded, the lord and ruler picks up the dead body.
Mira Reinholt does flinch, then ducks as he sees a body come flying out of the doorway that lord Farque went through, a body that's coming right at the Vexilian mage in exile.
It passes over him, and the swordmaster Reinholt hears it smash into whoever it is that's chasing after him, the once powerful mage doesn't look back as he continues running towards the doorway that the lord and ruler of the lands Farque is through.
The mage Reinholt goes through the doorway, and before he can say anything, the undead warlord takes a hold of him at the scruff of his cloak, lifting him up off the floor, then they're moving.
The once powerful mage blinks in surprise as everything becomes a blur, there's streaks of light around him, as he feels he's moving extremely quickly. Then his vision goes back to normal, and he's let down now that they're at the end of the long hallway that they're in, Mira Reinholt realises that it's taken just a couple of moments to get from one end of the hallway to the other, when it should of taken way longer than it did.
By the shape of fire, no wonder he can move so fucking fast at times, the swordmaster Reinholt thinks to himself as he and the tall, heavily armoured figure of lord Farque round a corner, they reach an open doorway, which they both step through at the same time. Then holding their arms out from their sides a bit, indicating they want to go down, the two of them start heading down the wind tower that's in the middle of the tower of the Haldéilv family, that goes down through the escarpment it sits upon.
They're in the magical tower that's been hollowed out of solid rock for just a few moments, when lord Farque mutters "Fuck" Mira Reinholt says "What?" when suddenly the wind that's blowing around them, stops. The mage Reinholt gulps as they both drop without the wind supporting them any more, then the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil feels the undead warlord grab him by the back of the cloak like he did before, and they come to an instant stop.
The once powerful mage who finds himself dangling there in mid air, looks up, and with just a few lights inside this wind tower, Mira Reinholt can just make out lord Farque, whose right arm is in the rock wall next to them, the undead warlord has punched a hole in the wall, and is holding onto it, so that they don't fall.
"Fucking cow" mutters the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, the swordmaster Reinholt sourly smiles as he knows who the heavily armoured deathlord is referring to, who must of turned off the wind tower once she knew they were in it.
The mage Reinholt looks down, he can't see the bottom of the tower as there's not enough light to see by, the once powerful mage quietly asks "How far to the bottom?" he winces when he hears lord Farque, who can see perfectly clearly to the bottom of the wind tower, murmur "Hmmm" as he looks down.
"That's not very reassuring" mutters Vexilian mage in exile, then the spellcaster who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster says in a dry tone of voice "I'm not exactly going to let go am i" after the undead warlord tells him "Hold on".
"Stop whining like a little bitch, you're almost as bad as Dorc at times" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, then the mage Reinholt gulps and mutters "Fuck" after the heavily armoured deathlord lets go of the hole in the rock wall he's punched, and pushes then out a bit to the middle of the wind tower and they fall.
Mira Reinholt closes his eyes as they drop in what seems an eternity to him, hoping that he doesn't go splat when they hit the bottom of the wind tower, then the spellcaster who was the youngest member of the mage council of Vexil in the history of his homeland, slightly grunts as they come to a stop, and lord Farque lets him go.
The swordmaster Reinholt opens his eyes as he stands there, and he sees the deathlord of Farque hurrying out of the wind tower saying "To the right" the once powerful mage who is glad to be on solid ground again, hurries out of the wind tower too.
They rush across the entrance hall in the escarpment, there's a number of others in here too, all fleeing as they've heard what's happened up in the tower itself. The undead warlord then the Vexilian mage in exile run out through the open doors, into the night outside.
"Where?" asks Mira Reinholt as they're stopped just outside, lord Farque who is sensing their quarry, says "This way" and heads off to the village, with the swordmaster following behind him. They skirt to one side of the village, and the once powerful mage sees they're heading to the field next to it, he sees in the moonlight what they're approaching.
Though they've never heard it before, they instantly obey what's said to them "Here" says lord Farque in the language of dragons to one of the wyverns, he points at the other, then points up at the top of the tower, where the Haldéilv griffon is squawking in agitation as it's heard what's been happening in the tower "Attack" commands the undead warlord to the other wyvern.
As the second wyvern launches, and heads up to the tower, Draugadrottin who climbs up into the saddle of the first wyvern, which has lowered itself down, explains to the mage Reinholt "A distraction" as he nods to the wyvern that's now attacking the now enraged wyvern on top of the tower.
The Vexilian mage in exile scrambles up into the saddle of the wyvern behind the lord and ruler of the lands Farque who tells him "She's gone through a rift she's cast" Mira Reinholt knows the heavily armoured deathlord will know which direction Kaldeàlil Haldéilv has gone, so he says to him "She's got a range just over a couple hundred miles" he then adds "Way shorter if she had to cast in a hurry".
"She did" says lord Farque who has taken the reins of the wyvern then gives it a command in the dragon language, a moment later it takes off and they head up into the night sky, turning to the northwest, the direction Kaldeàlil Haldéilv has fled . . . . . .

Wonderful 29.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Mira Reinholt the mage sits upon his bed with his eyes closed. The once powerful mage has put on his summer cloak, and has his pack, with what little possessions he has, sitting on the end of the bed.
The Vexilian mage in exile who is sitting back against the wall behind him, listens carefully as he waits. It's not too long before he thinks he hears something out on the balcony.
A few moments later, and the doors to the balcony open, and the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster hears a familiar voice say "Mage".
He opens his eyes, and sees a large figure in a full suit of blue, black heavy plate armour standing in the open doorway to the balcony looking at him "Farque" says Mira Reinholt the mage.
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head, then after looking at the Vexilian mage in exile for another moment or two as he senses him, lord Farque asks him "What have they done to you?". "Dosed me with a potion that blocks me from my magic" replies the mage Reinholt, who then informs the heavily armoured deathlord what the potion is and it's side effects "Wondered why you hadn't blasted yourself free" dryly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then adds "Let's go".
The swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands stands up, grabs his pack, and shoulders it, then the once powerful mage notices something, and he says "Where's that sword of yours?" lord Farque replies with "A long story to that" he continues with "But at the moment that fat fucking lump Dorc has got it".
"Poor sword" murmurs Mira Reinholt with a shake of his head, who then looks at the tall, heavily armoured figure who gestures out the balcony doors then says "I guess you don't want to go out the way i came up?".
"Not particularly" sourly says the exiled Vexilian mage who figures the undead warlord scaled the sheer rock face of the escarpment that the keep like tower of the Haldéilv family sits upon.
"Figures" dryly says the deathlord of Farque who is also known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, he points to the doorway that opens up into the hallway and he says "Out that way and down" the lord and ruler of the lands Farque continues with "On the way out, we'll deal with that annoying bitch who has been bugging us for the last few years" the mage Reinholt nods his head in agreement.
As the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, follows the heavily armoured deathlord across the large open room, he glances out the windows to the balcony.
There in the moonlight outside, the swordmaster Reinholt spots one of the elven house guards lying near the balcony garden, his limbs are akimbo, and his head is at an odd, unnatural angle, he's obviously dead.
The deathlord and mage, who are both from south of equator, stop at the closed door. There the undead warlord reaches up and runs his right gauntleted hand along the top of the door frame.
"What was it?" asks Mira Reinholt "An alarm spell to see if you would try to open it from the inside" replies lord Farque who then opens the door, breaking the locking mechanism as he does so. As they walk out into the hallway, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque quietly says to the exiled Vexilian mage "Keep behind me Mira". "You don't have to tell me that twice" dryly murmurs the swordmaster Reinholt as he follows the undead warlord out into the hallway.
They turn left in the lamp lit hallway, and as they start heading along it, the once powerful mage quietly tells the heavily armoured deathlord "They're probably down in the main banquet hall" he continues with "They've got guests". "I know" quietly says Draugadrottin as they head along the hallway, then as they approach a closed door up on their left, Mira Reinholt who knows who is in the room behind the closed door, quietly says "If anyone comes out of that door up here, don't kill them".
"Fine" sourly says lord Farque who senses two humans in the room up ahead, both right behind the closed door, most likely listening, as they've probably heard the deathlord of Farque and the Vexilian mage in exile.
The undead warlord steps quickly to the closed door as he hears a hand on the handle on the otherside, he punches the door right next to the door handle, and it goes flying off it's hinges, and goes flying inwards. "They'll live" says the heavily armoured deathlord who continues on his way down the hallway.
The mage Reinholt pops his head into the room, and he sees that the door has landed about fifteen feet into the room, beneath it, knocked out, is the mercenary guard Harrick. While the other mercenary guard, Ginden, is off to one side, lying on the floor, completely dazed, moaning with a broken right arm.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster is glad to see his two guards still alive, he has nothing against them, infact he quite likes them, besides they were just doing the job they were paid to do.
Mira Reinholt hurries to catch up to lord Farque, who has gone around the corner to the left at the end of the hallway, the exiled Vexilian mage rounds the corner, and finds the undead warlord at the top of some steps, lying nearby in the hallway, are a pair of elven house guards.
One whose neck is obviously broken, the other whose chest looks like it has exploded, the mage Reinholt knows that one probably got punched or kicked in the chest by the heavily armoured deathlord.
Lord Farque picks up a longsword belonging to one of the dead elven house guards, and he hands it to Mira Reinholt and says "Take care of anyone who comes at us from behind" the swordmaster Reinholt nods his head in understanding, then the two of them start making their way down the steps.
In the main banquet hall, which is roughly in the middle of the keep like tower that's been the home of the Haldéilv family for nearly fifteen hundred years. Kaldeàlil Haldéilv sits at a table that's furthest removed from the high table as possible.
The attractive elven maid who being a daughter of lord Haldéilv is allowed to sit at the high table if she wants to. But it's just not worth the hassle in her opinion.
The elven magic user yawns as she looks to the high table, where sits her father, some of his family, senior members of his household, as well as a couple of the guests from the coastal city of Falnic, one of whom is the justifier Kaellin.
Kaldeàlil Haldéilv sourly smiles, as she hears her father regaling a story to the justifier about an adventure deep into the mountains of Maladimbáh during his youth. Which was probably over five hundred years ago, as the head of the noble family of Haldéilv is around seven hundred and fifty years old.
The attractive elven maid goes back to nibbling at the sweet pastry on her plate, as those at her table continue to ignore her, like just about everyone else here in the banquet hall, well those that have remained as dinner was served early as is the custom here in the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
At the table are a pair of young humans, justifier guards from the city of Falnic, who are doing their utmost best to get drunk, they're being pretty successful at it too.
Also at the table are two of the tower servants, and a hunter from northeast in the lands of the Haldéilv family. Kaldeàlil vaguely remembers him, as he hunts in the forest near the town where she was brought up by her mother's family. He's the only one tonight in the banquet hall who has shown any courtesy to the elven magic user.
For she, as a by product of the crime of rape, is the physical manifestation of lord Haldéilv's shame, their lord's shame.
The attractive elven maid is just about to take a drink from her wine goblet, when the hunter, who is sitting a couple of seats to her right, says to her in their native language "You hear that?".
Kaldeàlil Haldéilv looks to where he points, to an open doorway away on the left side of the banquet hall from where they're sitting. The elven magic user frowns as she tries to hear what the hunter with his keen hearing has picked up, then he says "Sounds like fighting".
The attractive elven maid is about to say something in agreement as she does hear something that sounds like fighting from there, when suddenly a house guard comes flying into the banquet hall through that particular open doorway.
The house guard travels a good twenty five feet through the air, until he hits the top of a table, which he goes tumbling across. Sending crockery, mugs, goblets and trenchers flying. He also hits two of those sitting at that table, which he rolls off, and slides along the floor, until coming to a stop at the foot of a bench at the next table along, with his head resting at an oblique angle, as his neck is obviously broken.
There's a couple of moments of stunned silence throughout the dining hall, then everyone starts speaking at once, including Kaldeàlil Haldéilv who mutters "Shit".
The attractive elven maid looks to the doorway the house guard came flying through, and she mutters "Shit" again, this time in a tone of shock and surprise. As standing there is a large, heavily armoured figure in a suit of blue, black plate armour, who is familiar to the elven magic user. A figure she sent to the bottom of the Great Western Ocean over a month ago.
Then Kaldeàlil Haldéilv mutters "Shit" a third time, as the tall figure in the heavy plate armour, turns his full helmed head, and looks directly at her . . . . . .

TYOFT - Authors Note.

Test post.