You Want A War? You've Got One! 13.

The Stone Hills. Winter...

As the mist blows away more. Both Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera can finally see the road below. Where through the mist, they can see bodies, both human and horses, strewn along the road and to either side of it.
And as the dwarven warriors under the command of Thane Kraelin, many of whom are carrying heavy spears. Rush downhill, silently without calling out or shouting as more of the enemy army come up the road.
They see sir Percavelle Lé Dic and the clanless dwarven warriors with him. Heading downhill too.
After rolling his eyes, Tamric Drubine says "Cover them" as he lifts his bow. While the unit of dwarven warriors with him and Lis, lift their crossbows, as does the orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury in the Southlands.
"Loose!" orders the nobleborn youngster from the kingdom of Sarcrin in the Southlands, he repeats the order in the dwarven language, as a volley of bolts go flying over the heads of their fellow warriors heading downhill, to strike the enemy on the road, who are riding towards a scene of devastation.
Old Axe Thrower Karne grimaces as he sees the nearest of the enemy dead lying a bit infront of them on the road.
A justifier's guard has lost his head, it hasn't been cut off by an axe or sword. It looks like it's been ripped off by something if the ragged tear along the neck, and down one shoulder is anything to go by.
Near the dead guard from the region of Belinswae, lies his mount. His horse's entrails have been torn out, and it's head looks like it's been smacked into the ground a few times, as now it's just a bloody, pulpy mess.
Other bodies, both human and equine look similar. Limbs and body parts looking like they've been ripped off or open.
Axe Thrower is pretty certain he sees an arm sticking out of the open mouth of one justifier's guard. It's been thrust fist down into the gullet of that particular guard.
Karne glances back at the rest of the war party on the road with him. Then as they see their fellow clan warriors moving silently down the inline on the west side of the road.
Lord Farque who is out infront of them, says "Margen" Forward in the dwarven language. The large, heavily armoured figure in the lead moves off. With Karne aka The Axe Thrower, along with the rest of the war party following after him.
Heading into mist that's continuing to clear, into where the dead and dying are lying along the road, where further south, the enemy are being attacked from sides of the trade road.
The dwarven army of clan Kraelin is badly outnumbered. There's less than five hundred of them. While the army of justifier Marsille has over a thousand guards. And half again as many support guards and others, who are often referred to as camp followers. For amongst their numbers are cooks, smiths, carters and the like. Those who keep the camp running.
Among the primary fighting guards, are a few hundred inexperienced guards who have been pressed into the service of justifier Marsille's army.
It's these guards that the clan chief Baedin Kraelin and the main force of the army target. The dwarves with him, mostly heavy axe and heavy hammer fighters.
Rush in silence towards the enemy army on the road, and as the mist continues to blow away. The dwarven warriors charge those foot soldiers who have been taken by a press gang, either in a city such as Falnic. Or one of the towns or villages to the north of the largest city in the region of Belinswae.
They're easily identifiable, they're slovenly looking troops. Needing the encouragement of crops swung by officers to get some of them moving along the road. Not to mention quite often repeated shouted orders.
The pressed guards, who are strung out along the trade road that leads up to the clan Kraelin mountainhold. Strung out amongst the last of the mounted guards infront, and the support guards with the wagons and carts who are back further behind them.
Are caught unawares, as they're struck from the east side of the road by clan chief Baedin Kraelin and the bulk of his army as they come out of the thinning mist.
They like a lot of the guards in the army of justifier Marsille, were looking in all directions, when they heard one blow from a horn echo across the surrounding hills. Followed by second blast from a blown horn. Not knowing where either one came from.
There's a grim looking smile upon the bearded face of the chieftain of the Kraelin clan of dwarves as he swings his warhammer at one of the enemy.
The hammermaster's weapon slams into the legs of the young man from Belinswae, who turned and screeched in fright when he caught sight of the dwarven clan chief.
The justifier's guard drops to the ground screaming. As indeed do many of the others who have been pressed into the service of justifier Marsille's army. When hammer and axe slam into them. Usually into their legs and groin, or guts, and occasionally into the chest.
As dwarves being dwarves, are far shorter than their human enemies. And tend to hit low on those who they're fighting. Though fighting is bit optimistic when describing pressed guards.
They're more likely to flail about with their weapons hoping to hit anything. Than actually use any skill in what they're trying to do.
Baedin Kraelin who sees that the pressed guards all have shortswords or spears, all either pitted and rusted, or badly chipped. He even sees one sword that's so badly warped that it should be melted down to stock so the metal can be used again.
Suddenly finds himself facing a justifier's guard with far more experience, who has a longsword, and who has been yelling at the pressed guards to stand side by side, and stab down at the dwarven warriors, who on average are at least a foot shorter than they are.
Holding his heavy warhammer in his right hand, he's strong enough to easily do that. The clan chieftain takes a small hammer from behind his back, and with an underhanded toss, he biffs it at the experienced guard with the longsword.
The experienced guard grunts in pain, and buckles to one knee after the throwing hammer takes hits him in the thigh.
He goes to swing his longsword at the hammermaster Kraelin. But his blade is blocked by the axe of the dwarven warrior Helnd, who comes in from his chieftain's side.
Baedin Kraelin smashes his warhammer into the face of the experienced guard who is down on one knee. And as the heavy weapon splatters apart the front of the man's head. The clan chief wonders how the rest of his army are doing as they attack the enemy from Belinswae.
Thane Kraelin picks up a heavy spear that's been dropped, and he moves forward between a couple of the other warriors, and he shoves the broad spearhead into the side of the horse of one of the enemy.
The horse rears in pain, tossing the rider from the saddle. The justifier's guard grunts in pain when he lands on the rocky ground. Then he grunts in pain again then yells an obscenity in the common language when one of the other warriors shoves his spear into the guards stomach.
Quite a lot of the mounted enemy have come off the road to face those dwarven warriors led by Thane Kraelin who have rushed downhill through the thinning mist to attack them.
It's a mistake on their part, there's a reason for the trade road through the foothills, in particular here so close to the clan Kraelin mountainhold. The ground is just too rocky, especially on the west side of the road, for the footing of horses.
The only sure footed things to traverse this type of ground are mountain goats, the rare spotted mountain cats that hunt them. As well as dwarves, with their hobnail boots, who have spent a lifetime walking and running across such rocky ground.
A horse goes down after a justifier's guard jumps it over the ditch to the side of the road, and one of it's hooves lands in a hole between rocks. The rider jumps clear, and he screams in pain, when he snaps an ankle when he lands awkwardly on a jagged rock.
The nephew of the Kraelin clan chief swings the spear, and the haft smacks into the face of the screaming enemy guard. That shuts him up as the heavy wooden haft shatters his nose, mouth, and cheeks.
He's permanently shut up when another dwarven warrior slams his axe into the top of the man's skull.
"Keep attacking their horses!" calls out Thane Kraelin in the dwarven language as he knows that the more experienced guards and their mounts they kill here, the better. The dwarven warrior who is in command of the heavy spear warriors. Sees that a number of the enemy on the road are dismounting there, so that they can face the dwarves on foot, which is the smart thing to do.
Thane Kraelin who leaps to one side as a loose mount runs towards him, before it goes down on the rocky ground when it stumbles upon the rocks and shingle. Is helped up by his second Rhogar, who tells him "Those foot troops are turning up too".
"There's so damn many of them" mutters Baedin Kraelin's nephew who is of the opinion that humans are almost as bad as goblins at how they breed too much. He picks up his fallen spear, just then a large, heavily armoured figure. Much taller than any of the dwarves runs by Thane and Rhogar, calling out "Hurry up chaps, we can't be letting any of these vile villains be getting away with their heinous deeds".
"The idiot" dryly murmurs Thane Kraelin who can't believe how incredibly fortunate sir Percavelle Lé Dic is not to break his ankles on the rocky ground as he runs quickly towards the road.
"Fucking madman" adds Rhogar, as they watch the knight from south of the equator leap the ditch, and land amongst the enemy on the road. Where he swings a pick axe in one gauntleted hand, and a hammer in the other. They can easily hear the big human, who wears a cape flowing down behind him where it's attached to his armoured shoulders, repeatedly saying "Take that!" as he hits enemy after enemy, who are more than a little surprised to have him amongst them.
The twenty five or so clanless dwarven warriors who the knight in the order of saint Mar-che commands. Follows him onto the road to attack the guards in justifier Marsille's army. Not caring that they give away the advantage of the rocky ground off the road.
"Keep spearing the bastards!" calls out Thane Kraelin as he sees a number of the enemy guards go down, as bolts and arrows shot by those warriors up the incline behind them, strike the justifier's guards who are either on the road or are off it.
Seeing that more foot troops are turning up along the road from the south, Tamric Drubine calls out "Move to the right!" followed by "Shoot at the guards coming up the road on foot".
His order is repeated in dwarven by Jarka Mard, the youngest son of the chieftain of clan Mard, whose war party of about fifty warriors, is with Tam and the clan Kraelin archers and bowmen*.
The nobleborn youngster who has shot off just a few arrows from his bow, while next to him, Lisell Maera is repeatedly shooting off bolt after bolt at the enemy down on the road. Watches what's happening down and near the road as the mist is blown away by the wind that's picked up.
The son of the former knight of castle Drubine can now make out further to the south, where the main force of the Kraelin clan is attacking the justifier's army from the otherside of the trade road.
Already foot troops that way, undoubtedly guards who have been pressed into service. Are fleeing in all directions, both off the road, as well as back down it to the south. While others are running away along it to the north. Right into the others, both on horses and on foot, who are moving forward to help out those who are under attack by the dwarven warriors led by Thane Kraelin.
Tamric Drubine looks away to the left along the road, and he sees lord Farque and the small band of dwarven warriors with him on the road.
Moving southwards amongst the dead who were at the front of the army from Belinswae. Tam figures there must be over two hundred justifier's guards and their mounts scattered across the road.
Who died when the mist was thick, when the lord and ruler of the lands Farque briefly rose the dead from the lich yard on the north side of the nearby village. Which Tam can now see in the distance on the otherside of the road, where it sits on the edge of a small lake.
He looks quickly back to the south along the road, then he calls out to Jarka Mard who is nearby "Jarka you and your war party go down the southside of the hill, and come up and hit the enemy heading up the road!" the nobleborn youngster from south of the equator continues with "Hit them quickly, then fall back!".
"Aye lad!" replies Jarka Mard in the dwarven language, who then says to his war party "You heard the lad, down the side of hill, and hit the bastards heading up the road".
As they warriors from clan Mard hurry off and make their way down the southside of the hill, Tamric Drubine orders the archers and bowmen "Head downhill, get closer to the road". As it's getting harder to shoot the enemy, as there's now many of the dwarven warriors mixed up amongst them, fighting on the road.
As he and his fellow Southlander Lisell Maera head downhill, she says to him "Wonder why there hasn't been any magic cast from them?". "I bet they've been taken care of" says Tamric Drubine, as they watch their footing as they head down the hillside While the dwarven warriors with them, are much more sure footed on the rocky incline.
The orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury in the Southlands nods her head in understanding, as she knows who exactly Tam is referring to, and what they've most likely done to nullify the spellcasting capabilities of the enemy army from the region of Belinswae . . . . . .

*Authors Note - Or should that be bowdwarves?

You Want A War? You've Got One! 12.

The Stone Hills. Winter...

"Form up ranks, form up ranks!" comes the command along the road. As some semblance of order is forced upon those in the army of justifier Marsille, who are further behind those who are at the very front of the army.
The justifier, who also happens to be a sorcerer, hears the approaching wyverns in the sky coming from the hillside about a mile and half further back to the south. Nods his head yes when the commanding officer on the horse beside him asks "Should i give the order to charge justifier Marsille?".
Having been given the command, the senior most officer here at the front of the army turns to those mounted guards who have formed up on the road infront of the others, and tells them "Charge them" followed by "Wipe them out!".
Marsille, a justifier from the city of Falnic in Belinswae. Slightly frowns as another gust of wind blows across the road, a bit further to the north of his army. Allowing him another view, this time clearer, of the large individual in full plate armour, who is standing a bit in advance of some dwarven warriors.
Where have i? justifier Marsille thinks to himself, who then suddenly remembers he has seen the individual up ahead before. Last night, when he read the mind of the deranged wyvern rider, whose patrol was wiped out yesterday morning. Who the sorcerer would later have killed.
In the mind of that guard, amongst the confused images. There was one that was often repeated, even though it was sometimes blurry.
It was of the individual, who now stands upon the road, infront of a war party of dwarven warriors. Just eighty yards away from the front of the justifier's army.
And as the sorcerer Marsille looks sharply towards him, and the front of his army take off down the road. The mist flows across the road again, partially obscuring the large human in the dark plate armour, and the dwarven warriors with him.
Even from where he is, just to the side of the trade road, on a slight incline. The justifier from the city of Falnic clearly feels the drop in temperature on what's already a cold morning, as the wave of mist flows across the road.
The sorcerer looks away to the otherside of the road, and as more of his guards gallop forward to attack those of the enemy who are on the road. Justifier Marsille peers through the mist, and murmurs "Isn't that abandoned village over there?".
Out of no where, he gets an uneasy feeling, so much so that the justifier goes to cast a spell, and all of a sudden he finds that he's unable to touch his magical powers. "Fuck" mutters the sorcerer Marsille in a panic as he hears his guards in the mist ahead, shouting and yelling as they ride at a gallop down the trade road.
They've been told to stay behind lord Farque, so the dwarven warriors on the road do so, even though they can hear, then see through the mist, the enemy riding on the road right towards them.
The enemy riders can't go more than four abreast across the road. And they can't exactly ride off it. Not just because of the ditch on either side. But also because the ground is all rocks and boulders for much on each side of the road.
And though there's scrubby trees on the east side of the road in places, and though there is a fair bit of open ground, with short, frost covered grass on that side. Those riding quickly can't exactly see it through the mist. Nor do they see what strikes them in the flank from that side of the road, the east side, the side that leads to the nearby abandoned village on the lake shore.
A village that until the start of winter was inhabited by the free folk here in the foothills of the Stone Hills. The free folk who for centuries have had a lich yard on the north side of their village.
Karne the Axe Thrower blinks in surprise as he stands just back, and to one side of the large, heavily armoured figure of lord Farque. The old dwarven warrior is pretty certain he's just seen someone or something come leaping out of the mist, and slam into one of the enemy riders he can just make out approaching their position on the road.
As that horse and rider goes down, knocking down the justifier's guard beside him, and his horse too. Something else comes leaping out of the mist from the east side of the road, and smashes into a horse. Then another figure, and another, and something else, then something else, that Axe Thrower is certain is a person. Though one without a head, that's run straight into the side of a horse, knocking it, and it's rider down.
By Thaxel what the fuck? Karne the dwarven warrior thinks to himself, who then clearly sees a figure not that far infront of them, walk up onto the road through the mist, from the east, in the direction of the nearby village that the free folk abandoned at the start of winter.
Axe Thrower doesn't intend to gulp, but he does so. And he's not afraid to admit, it's a gulp in fear. As the figure, which is definitely human, but badly emaciated, almost skeletal. With torn rags upon it's body. Stop and look in this direction.
Karne can clearly see the glowing blue eyes that are sunken in the skull of the figure, as he looks in this direction. Before it looks sharply at lord Farque, then it quickly turns and runs into the mist along the road, towards the enemy. From where the sounds of screaming, and shouting can easily be heard.
That kind of looked like that fishermen who drowned in the small lake over yonder a few years ago, Karne silently muses to himself, the old dwarven warrior gulps again, tries to put that thought out of his mind as hears the screams, and shouts of the enemy, not a single one has yet to reach their position on the road.
Further south on the east side of the road, where the main force of the Kraelin clan army is positioned. Clan chieftain Baedin Kraelin and his dwarven warriors wait in silence from their hiding places.
The dwarves in the main part of the army, who have been told to keep clear of the open ground that leads down to the nearby village that's abandoned by the free folk who used to live there.
Are amongst the scrubby trees, boulders and rocks that are abundant in the Stone Hills, the closer you get to the mountains proper.
Through the mist, they've caught glimpses of the enemy upon the road that heads north to the mountainhold of clan Kraelin.
The clan chief from where he crouches behind a small boulder, is galled at seeing the enemy guards in the army of one of Belinswae's justifier's go by. First on horses, then a mix of horse guards and foot soldiers.
Who when some of the cold mist blows away every so often in the light just after dawn, Baedin Kraelin sees how undisciplined some of the enemy guards are.
He was right, Baedin Kraelin the clan chieftain thinks to himself as he sees how slovenly dressed some of the justifier's guards are. How their weapons are poorly maintained, and how more experienced looking guards, and officers have to constantly badger them, to stay in rank as they march northward along the trade road.
Helnd the dwarven warrior stops beside his clan chieftain after coming from the scrubby trees in the mist to their right. "You hear that chief?" whispers Helnd the dwarven warrior, who in peaceful times is an absolute drunkard. But during times of war, he's completely sober and won't touch a single drop of alcohol.
The clan chief, who also happens to be a hammermaster looks northwards through the mist, the direction that Helnd has gestured. And the hammermaster Kraelin who can definitely hear the wings of wyverns somewhere up in the early morning sky. Slightly frowns as hears something to the north of them along the road.
"Sounds like they're attacking chief" whispers Helnd "Aye it does" is the whispered reply of Baedin Kraelin, the dwarven clan chieftain who is pretty certain he hears screaming and shouting away to the north along the road, nods his head and whispers "It's begun".
Next to the clan chieftain, his acting second nods his head, then after a few moments of silence, Helnd waves towards the road that's only thirty yards from them, when a gust of wind sends the mist swirling. "More of them now chief" the dwarven hammermaster nods his head in agreement.
It's the guards on foot, in particular those of them who look, and are undisciplined. Baedin Kraelin who has been told that these guards have been pressed into service. Basically taken from the streets of the cities and towns of Belinswae against their will, to serve in the armies of the justifiers.
A concept he finds completely abhorrent. For he as all dwarven warriors, choose to fight. It helps that pretty much all male dwarves, no matter what their skills and crafts they normally do, are also warriors.
Can't believe any general of an army would allow such unseasoned, and untried troops with no experience, take part in a campaign, let alone one of invasion. You're just asking for trouble in his opinion.
Is fine that the enemy is actually doing so at this moment. For they'll be his and the main force of his army's, priority. It'll be those they'll be attacking.
"I can hear their wagons too" whispers Baedin Kraelin to Helnd as he looks to the south, the clan chieftain then whispers to his second "Give the signal to get ready". Helnd nods, then taps a warrior to their right on the shoulder, and gives a hand signal.
As the signal is silently passed from warrior to warrior in the main force of clan Kaellin's army, their clan chieftain takes a horn from his belt. The hammermaster, who wears a mix of leather armour, and chainmail, and has a golden chainmail torque and coif, around his neck and on his head, the only thing that marks him as the chief of his clan.
Pops his helm on his head, then whispers to his second "Ready there Helnd?". "Aye chief" is the whisperd reply of Helnd, who then adds "Let's be getting the bastards for trying to take our home".
The clan chieftain Baedin Kraelin puts the bull horn to his lips, and blows through the brass tip. The distinctive bellow echoes around the rocks and boulders on both sides of the trade road. Then the main force of his army, move forward in silence through the mist towards the road that the enemy army is on.
On the otherside of the trade road, the west side, which is more uphill. And has the redoubt on that side, where the road ends, and turns into a track as it goes up the mountainside.
Thane Kraelin, the nephew of the clan chieftain. Is in command of the forces who are waiting in silence here.
They're closer to where the fighting has already taken place on the road. They can hear the screams of men and horses upon the road. But no yells or screams in dwarven as of yet.
Thane wonders how lord Farque and the war party with him are faring. Since it's them who the enemy from Belinswae are attacking.
The nephew of the clan chief, who is with warriors who have heavy spears, along with their axes and hammers. Looks behind himself into the mist, where up the incline, amongst the rocks and boulders, are the archers, and the warriors with crossbows.
Through the mist, Thane spots the silver plate armour of the human sir Percavelle Lé Dic. He's crouched next to a boulder, and no doubt is busting to run downhill to attack the justifier's army all by himself.
The clan chief's nephew is glad that the heavily armoured knight is doing as ordered, and for the meantime is staying put.
Thane who knows that the two human youngsters, Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera are also nearby, amongst the warriors with bows and crossbows. Along with the war party from clan Mard, led by that clan chief's youngest son, Jarka Mard.
Looks up to the sky to the south, and being further uphill from the road when the mist is thickest. He can see the sky more clearly, and he spots the enemy wyverns quickly approaching.
Just then he hears his uncle's bull horn blowing "They've attacked" Thane Kraelin whispers to his second, and older dwarf by the name of Rhogar "Aye lad" whispers back Rhogar, who then adds "Ain't that mist supposed to start clearing for us now?".
Thane nods his head, for that is the plan. Then he sees the mist down on the road start to dissipate as the wind picks up. Not a gust, but a steady breeze, this time from the west to the east. When previously the wind was blowing from the other direction. Where the mist was coming in from the hills and small lake to the east.
The nephew of chief Baedin Kraelin, hears a loud, distinctive shout come from down on the road a bit to the north. He easily recognises the voice of lord Farque. Thane looks up into the sky to the south as he hears a wyvern screech.
He sees the large winged creature veer away to east then south, with it's lead rider trying to get it to turn back around, to no avail. Then as another of the approaching wyverns veers away. Thane clasps Rhogar on the shoulder and whispers "Time to move down".
The dwarven warrior Rhogar nods, stands up, and puts his horn to his lips, and blows it, as the mist down on the road continues to disperse, to reveal what's already happened . . . . . .

You Want A War? You've Got One! 11.

The Stone Hills. Winter...

Justifier Marsille sits upon his wyvern, impatient as his army gets underway for the day. Dawn has broken, and though some squads have formed, and are on the road and are moving out. Many others have yet to even pack up their gear, let alone actually be moving off, as the army continues northwards into the Stone Hills.
The sorcerer who has landed and is on the hillside where the night's camp was, and in some places, still is. Wraps his cloak tightly around himself as the misty morning is a rather cold one.
The justifier who went up earlier with a couple of other wyverns and their riders, returned because visibility is poor along much of the road. His officers have sent out scouts as they usually do in the early morning.
They'll see what's happening on and near the road, better than he and the other wyvern riders will be able to see from the air.
The sorcerer Marsille, is frowning as he's just cast a wind spell to dissipate some of the mist, that's coming in from the east. A spell that he thought was successful in the casting, but it seems it hasn't been. When a rider comes up the hill, and stops near his wyvern.
"Justifier, there's someone on the road up ahead" says the rider, who is a subaltern, one of the officers who has sent out the scouts. "Who?" asks justifier Marsille "We're not sure justifier" replies the junior officer, who continues with "It's just one person by the looks of it" he pauses for a moment, before adding "It's a man, not a dwarf".
That piques the sorcerer's interest, and after lifting his eyebrows up in surprise, he dismounts and says to one of his aides "Get my horse".
The mount is close by, and as it's brought to him, he says to the nearby wyvern riders and their squads "Bring up the wyverns a bit later" he continues with "We'll be on the road".
Justifier Marsille gets up into the saddle of his horse, and before he sets off down the hill, he calls out to some nearby officers who are overseeing the breaking down of the rest of the camp "Get that bloody lot moving!" he follows that up with "I want them on the road with the rest of the army now!".
The sorcerer, along with the subaltern who rode up with the message. As well as two more officers, and his personal guards. Ride down the hillside towards the road. The further they ride down, the thicker the cold mist gets on this cold winter's day.
Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera share a look after Helbe the elven thief speaks to the two of them. The young elven noble has moved off into the mist, to speak with sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who isn't all that faraway from the two youngsters from south of the equator.
Tam and Lis are with a unit of archers and warriors with crossbows. They're hidden amongst rocks and boulders to the west side of the trade road, they're about a hundred and fifty yards further south of the redoubt. Spread out to the south and north of them, are other units. Including the unit of dwarven warriors with heavy spears, that sir Percavelle Lé Dic is with.
The heavily armoured knight who is sitting down on a rock behind a boulder, tries not to sourly smile, and fails to. When prince Helbenthril Raendril walks out of the mist towards him, and quietly tell him something.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic who didn't particularly care for what the young elven noble just told him, though he will abide by it, grudgingly though.
Blinks as the elven masterthief looks in the direction of the road that's close by, and suddenly disappears. A few of the nearby dwarven warriors share glances with the earl of Lé Dic in Druvic.
Then the elven magic user reappears, over his shoulder is a dead man. The elven princeling lowers the body to the rocky ground "One of their scouts" quietly says Helbe the elven thief, who then suddenly disappears again.
"Glad his highness is on our side" murmurs the dwarven warrior closest to sir Percavelle Lé Dic, the heavily armoured knight in the order of Saint Mar-che nods his full helmed head in agreement with that sentiment.
They've made their way down the steps at the end of the tunnel in the redoubt. And into another tunnel, an old culvert that's been rebuilt into a tunnel. That passes beneath the trade road. They're on the east side of the paved road now, and are heading southwards.
Clan chieftain Baedin Kraelin, his cousin Barmil the delver, along with Helnd, his acting second. As well as the rest of the warriors who were in the redoubt, join up with the main force of the clan army. Who are waiting silently in the mist on this, the east side of the road.
Once they're with the bulk of his army, who are hiding amongst the rocks and boulders, and scrubby looking trees. As well as in the water ditch right beside the road, a water ditch that's dry at the moment, thanks to any water that was in it, being cleverly diverted thanks to grates that have been opened.
Listen to the approaching enemy army along the trade road. The dwarves who can hear far more clearly and much further than humans, thanks to their enhanced hearing. Hear the sounds of horses to the south on the road. Making their way through the mist, heading this way.
It won't be long before the enemy will go by their position, as the plan for the battle intends them to do.
On the road itself, a couple hundred yards south of the rock wall that's the redoubt, where the paved trade road ends, and turns into a cart track, that curves away, and goes uphill to the Kraelin clan mountainhold. Stands a large dark figure in the mist, who is by himself, it's lord Farque.
The undead warlord who is sensing everyone in the area, can clearly see through the mist with his ultra vision. The heavily armoured deathlord who has seen most of the enemy scouts killed by Helbe the elven thief. Looks to the south along the trade road, where he sees the approaching army in the eerie light of dawn through the morning mist.
There's a slightly sour looking smile upon the youthful seeming face of the deathlord of Farque behind the visor of his full helm as he watches the enemy army in the distance.
The undead being who was a general, then battlelord and a very young age, looks on in a disappointing manner at how disjointed the enemy army is.
The undead warlord who can see from his position on the road, the hillside the army from Falnic in Belinswae, set up camp for the night. Sees plenty of their foot soldiers still coming down the hillside, while a lot of the mounted guards are thinly spread out along the road.
The support guards with the supply wagons and carts, are getting the camp followers moving. Some of them are already on the road and underway. The units on foot who are already on the road are getting mixed up with these camp followers.
Then the heavily armoured deathlord glances down to his right, where lying flat in the ditch on the west side of the road, the high side. Is the dwarven warriors led by Karne the Axe Thrower, who came with him from the redoubt.
"Not too far away now" quietly says lord Farque, the dwarven warrior Karne, nods his head as looks up at the large heavily armoured figure standing on the road by himself. The undead warlord then looks away to his left through the mist, where he can just see the abandoned village on the shore of the small lake.
The village that he was in yesterday morning, when he encountered a patrol of enemy guards. The lord of the death realm briefly glances at what's just to the north of the empty village. Then he looks back along the road to the south and continues to watch the justifier's army from Belinswae approach.
The sorcerer Marsille and those with him ride forward. Passing other mounted guards and those on foot. Many of whom make way for the justifier who leads this particular army from the city of Falnic in Belinswae.
They come upon the lead riders about a mile or so north of the hillside where they made camp, justifier Marsille nods as he sees that the riders in the lead have reined up. Forcing those who are further back along the road who are strung out, to form up in their ranks.
"Good" murmurs the sorcerer Marsille, who then adds "A semblance of order for once". The justifier suspects the mist this morning has forced his guards to be more professional in their approach to the day's march. With the more experienced guards waiting for those units who are mainly made up of those who have been pressed into serving in the justifier's war against the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills.
When the sorcerer and those with him get to the front group of riders, justifier Marsille is met by one of his commanding officers, who the sorcerer asks "Where's this person that's been spotted?".
"He's further on justifier" says the commanding officer as they get underway again, their horses moving at a walking pace. The senior officer gestures to a mounted scout, who says "Nellin here and a couple of the other scouts spotted him".
The sorcerer nods his head as the cold wind starts to blow more freely down here on the road, sending the mist swirling as they ride north.
"Any of the other scouts seen anything?" asks the justifier who is sensing all around for anything magical as they ride through the eerie looking light of just after dawn due to the rising sun shining through the mist.
"They haven't all reported back" says the commanding officer, as they ride, unaware that dwarven warriors are off to either side of them, off from the road, within the boulders and rocks, as well as the scrubby looking trees on the east side of the road.
The senior officer gestures down the road, and they see a pair of guards, with their mounts, on an incline, just off the west side of the road. The lead group of the army, as well as justifier Marsille and those who rode forward, join them.
They're two of the scouts, and one of them says "Justifier there" the scout who is pointing north, continues with "You can see him when the wind blows and parts the mist". The sorcerer who is still sitting upon his horse, while others have dismounted, looks carefully to the north. And eventually spots a lone figure standing in the middle of the road, a figure that's definitely not a dwarf.
"Who is that?" murmurs the sorcerer Marsille, who probes the mind of the person standing about eighty yards away from their position. The sorcerer blinks in surprise when he comes up blank.
A gust of wind blows by, and a moment later they get a better view of who it is that's standing on the road. "Big bastard" says the subaltern who informed the justifier of the presence of the person standing on the trade road that goes into the heart of the Kraelin clanhold.
"Armoured in full plate too if I'm not mistaken" says the commanding officer, justifier Marsille nods in agreement, then he looks at those riders who have just formed up behind them. And as the mist slowly thickens again, the sorcerer says to one of the riders "Sir" he pauses as the commanding officer beside him helpfully murmurs "Donam".
"Donam, would you happen to know who that individual is?" adds the justifier as he gestures north along the road, to where the mist is starting to obscure the lone figure standing in the middle of the road.
"I can't say that i do justifier Marsille" says sir Donam, a knight in the order of the Victorious Sword, one of a handful of knights serving in the army of the sorcerer Marsille. The knight, glances at his squire mounted beside him, who says "Looks like he could be an avenger of some kind".
"Mayhap he is" says the heavily armoured knight, justifier Marsille slightly frowns as he's vaguely familiar with that term, and he says "You mean a former knight?". "Yes justifier" says the knight in the order of the Victorious Sword, who then adds "That's what he could be".
The sorcerer nods his head, then as more and more of the mounted ranks form up behind them on the road, Marsille hears the sounds of wyverns in the air, they've left the hillside where the night's camp was, and are approaching.
Just then, one of the scouts says "There" and points to the figure they can barely see now that the mist has formed up again. Now standing behind him, they see other figures, much shorter, obviously dwarves.
"So they're here" quietly says justifier Marsille, who continues with "They're going to make a stand here before the road ends, and the track beyond it goes up  their mountain". The sorcerer looks at his senior officer and tells him "Commander prepare the front ranks to attack".
Eighty yards away on the trade road, lord Farque who is watching the enemy, listens to the dwarves led by Karne the Axe Thrower, continue to gather behind him after they come up from their hiding place in the ditch next to the road.
Once all fifty or so of them are behind him in the mist, some spread out across the road behind him, Karne steps forward so that he's only a few yards behind the large, heavily armoured deathlord.
"Looks like they're going to form up and charge my lord" murmurs Karne aka Axe Thrower "They are" is the quiet comment of lord Farque. The old dwarven warrior standing a bit back from him is silent for a few moments, then he quietly asks "Are we waiting for something my lord?".
"We are" is the quiet reply of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who with a brief glance away in the direction of the abandoned village to the east, he adds "Reinforcements". Karne suddenly feels the air infront of him go freezing cold, and a faint blue glow come from large, heavily armoured figure standing infront of him . . . . . .

You Want A War? You've Got One! 10.

The Stone Hills. Winter...

They're within a tunnel in the redoubt above the trade road. The redoubt is normally the last wall of a fortification such as a castle or fort. But this one is a natural fortification, that looks like a rock wall, where the trade road ends. And a cart track begins, that goes up the last foothill to the mountainhold of the Kraelin clan.
The dwarven warriors in the long tunnel, part so that they're up against either wall in the tunnel to allow him to walk through. They nod their heads to him, as he passes by each one of them, as he walks slightly crouched down, as he stands two feet taller than most of the dwarves who make way for him.
He nods his full helmed head to the unit commanders, and those warriors he knows by name and sight. He like the dwarven warriors, are silent while they're in the tunnel.
At the end of the tunnel, where it's along side the trade road. Clan chieftain Baedin Kraelin, and those with him turn as they hear, then see him approach, the clan chief who has been looking through one of the spy holes in the rock wall, waits for the large, heavily armoured lord from a land faraway to the south of the equator, to join him at the end of the tunnel.
"My lord" quietly says Baedin Kraelin the clan chieftain when the large figure in the dark armour stops beside him "Chief Baedin" is the quiet greeting of lord Farque, who bends down and glances through the spy hole that the clan chieftain, who also happens to be a hammermaster, has just been looking through.
"Bit of a mist out there, that might come in handy" murmurs the undead warlord, who senses everything and everyone in the area, and knows what's happening. But still, the heavily armoured deathlord asks chief Baedin Kraelin "What's happening clan chief?".
"I've got some of the lads out watching them" quietly says the hammermaster Kraelin, who like the lord of the lands Farque, is conversing in the dwarven language, the clan chieftain continues with "Of course, they've yet to get going, even though it's nearly dawn". The hammermaster shakes his head at the inability of the justifier's army to get ready for a day's march by first light.
"All the units are either getting into position, or are already waiting in position" says Baedin Kraelin, who then gestures to his nephew Thane who is standing nearby, and tells the deathlord of Farque "Thane will lead the heavy spear on this side of the road".
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head, for that's one of the two remaining position of leadership that had yet to be decided. He can guess what the other one is, and he will forestall that one from happening.
"And i will go with" says the chieftain of clan Kraelin, who is interrupted by the heavily armoured deathlord, who continues to look out through the spy hole. "Chief Baedin, you'll lead the main force with Helnd as your second" says lord Farque, who then adds "Karne will lead those with me".
The clan chieftain falls silent, while his son Thane, along with old Axe Thrower Karne, Helnd and the others at the very end of the tunnel all look to their clan chief, who has told them that he intends to go with the human lord.
For a moment, the dwarven hammermaster doesn't know what to say. On one hand he's just be told what to do, and against what he is wanting to do. And on the other hand, he has put the lord and ruler of the lands Farque in command of his clan's army.
"Am i understood" prompts the undead warlord who is also known by the ancient name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, faraway to the south of the equator.
After a few more moments of silence as his fellow dwarves watch him, chief Baedin Kraelin says "Aye lord Farque". "Good" quietly says the heavily armoured deathlord, who bends up from looking through the spy hole, he looks down at the clan chieftain, and quietly tells him "Sometimes being a ruler isn't necessarily leading from the front" he follows that up with "It's to do what's right" the undead warlord then adds "Besides if the main force breaks them there, it will break this army from Falnic, and send them running of back to where they fucking belong".
Grins split the bearded faces of the dwarves when they hear that from the large human who absolutely towers over all of them, even as he stands slightly crouched over in the tunnel.
Then Baedin Kraelin asks "We wait?" the lord and ruler of the lands Farque nods his full helmed head, and says "We wait" the heavily armoured deathlord then adds "For the elven prince to get back here". "His highness is probably stealing something" dryly murmurs the hammermaster Kraelin, who like most of the dwarves of his clan, has learnt that his highness, prince Helbenthril Raendril is a bit of thief.
A bit of a thief is a bit of an understatement, he's a full on cleptomaniac, who'll steal anything of value that isn't nailed down.
"Probably" murmurs lord Farque with a slight smile on his face behind the visor of his full helm, as he senses the elven princeling coming back this way from the nearby camp of the justifier's army.
The young elven noble has been scouting around the camp and along the trade road, before dawn breaks. Lord Farque could of had the elven master assassin kill the justifier in command of the enemy army during the night.
But he wants the enemy army on the road and moving this morning, if his plan has any chance of success. He wants a decisive battle here on the frontdoor, so to speak, of the Kraelin mountainhold, if the clan is to force the enemy out. He can't have that if the overall commander of the enemy army is dead before the battle commences.
Besides it's easy enough to the kill the sorcerer who is the justifier in command of the enemy army during the battle. Indeed, that's what Helbe the elven thief is planning to do. Alongside killing other members of the leadership team of the enemy army that's pushing into the Kraelin clanhold.
Lord Farque glances over at Baedin Kraelin's cousin, the dwarven delver Barmil "Did you stir up this mist?" quietly asks the deathlord of Farque. "Aye my lord" replies Barmil the dwarven delver, he continues with "I was careful, that sorcerer nearby was asleep when i did it, so he canny no sense me casting" the spellcaster, who has blond hair that sticks up wildly in all directions, which is at odds with his finely plated beard that's in two braids, which has bits of gemstones weaved into it, then adds "Hight bought it up from the lake down by the abandoned village".
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head, then tells the delver "Keep holding your power within yourself, don't reveal yourself and only cast until the battle is well and truly underway" the dwarven spellcaster nods, then quietly says "Aye my lord" he then adds "I did tell his highness the sticky fingered thief, that very same thing earlier".
Des'tier as he's known to an older generation of elves in the Southlands, who might know who he is. Nods his full helmed head to that. Then he along with the dwarven warriors continue to wait. As they do, both the clan chieftain Baedin Kraelin, and his old friend, the warrior named the Axe Thrower, periodically look through the spy hole, watching the trade road below as it approaches dawn.
A short while later, and a cloaked and hooded figure suddenly appears in the tunnel, standing beside lord Farque. "Nice morning for a battle isn't it?" quietly says Helbe the elven thief in a cheerful tone, the young elven noble who is speaking common, continues in the same tone with "What with the mist across the lake, and up the end of the road here".
More than a few of the dwarven warriors at this end of the tunnel within the redoubt, grin at the appearance of the elf who they know to be of a royal family of a principality far to the south of the equator.
Though there's some long lasting animosity towards elven kind from some amongst the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills. That's directed at the elves of the principality of Maladimbáh, which is further to the east.
After all that's where the dwarves of the Stone Hills are originally from, until they were forced out about two thousand years ago during a war against those elves. Even then most of the dwarves of the Stone Hills couldn't care less about that part of their history when their grandfathers, grandfathers were still around.
They're more concerned about the here and now, and having an elf prince from some faraway land help them out with their war against their southern neighbours, is of more importance than something that happened when none of them were born.
Switching to the royal elven language, prince Helbenthril Raendril quietly says to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque "You sense that?" followed by "He's just taken off on his wyvern". The undead warlord nods his full helmed head, then quietly says in the same language "As is his usual routine first thing in the morning of late".
The justifier whose army is just a mile and a half away to the south, is up in the pre dawn sky, as are a couple of other wyverns and their riders, scouting out the surrounding area. With the sorcerer also sensing for any dwarven spellcasters or magical traps.
"And if things are the same as they have been, he'll quickly come back and land because his army hasn't got underway again" quietly says the elven magic user who is shielding himself so that other practitioners of magic are unable to sense him.
The elven masterthief whose hooded head is bent slightly down so that it doesn't hit the top of the tunnel here in the redoubt, glances at the large, heavily armoured figure beside him, and quietly tells him "They're just getting back some of their mounts that took off during the night when Narladene was annoying them".
Lord Farque nods his full helmed head, then after a few moments of silence, he says "He's heading back to camp" then switching to the common language, the lord of the death realm says to the dwarves who are looking at him in anticipation "You all know what to do" followed by "Time to move out" the undead warlord then quietly adds "Time for me to be a distraction".
As the clan chieftain Baedin Kraelin starts issuing orders, lord Farque heads back through the tunnel, followed by Helbe the elven thief, and the dwarven warrior Karne aka The Axe Thrower.
They get about fifty yards back along the tunnel, that curves up the hillside as the redoubt does. There they stop, and in the royal elven language, the heavily armoured deathlord tells the elven princeling "Check on Tam and Lis before things start" the lord of the death realm continues with "Tam has been given instructions of what to do when things change as often happens in battle".
The young elven noble nods his hooded head, then the lord and ruler of the lands Farque adds in a slightly dry tone "Check on Percy too, make sure the idiot stays where he's supposed to stay, and not cross to where the main force is" the undead warlord continues with "He's with the heavy spear at the moment as he should be, but you know how the fucking numpty can get at times".
Prince Helbenthril Raendril softly chuckles, then he quietly says "I'll make sure he stays where he's supposed to be" then the elven magic user disappears from everyone's sight, apart from the sight of the lord of the death realm, who for a few moments watches the elven masterthief continue back up through the tunnel.
Lord Farque is silent for a few moments as he thinks about something, then he turns to the old dwarven warrior Axe Thrower, and tells him in the language of the dwarves "Bring along a few of those long spears". "Aye my lord" says Karne, who then nods at a warrior to go off and get those weapons.
Then the undead warlord gestures to a couple of the warriors in the tunnel, and tells quietly them "Open it".
The warriors grasp an iron wheel that vaguely resembles a ships wheel, but smaller, that's on the tunnel wall. The two of them start turning it, and a section of the tunnel wall starts to open.
Lord Farque ducks down, and steps out of the redoubt through the open section, he's followed by Karne the Axe Thrower, and a number of the dwarven warriors who were silently waiting in the tunnel, all of whom are heavy axe and heavy hammer warriors.
They make their way silently down the hillside from the redoubt through the mist towards the trade road that's only forty yards away, as dawn breaks this cold winter's morning here in the Stone Hills . . . . . .

You Want A War? You've Got One! 9.

The Stone Hills. Winter...

Tamric Drubine cracks an eyelid open when he's awoken by a shake to his shoulder. He sighs as he sees who's sitting on his bed "Go away" sleepily says Tamric Drubine, he goes to close his eyes when his shoulder is given another shake "Damn it Lis" mutters the nobleborn youngster from the kingdom of Sarcrin in the Southlands, who then adds "I'm trying to get some rest before the battle in the morning".
"It is the morning" says Lisell Maera as she looks down at adolescent who is covered in blankets "Well it almost is" adds the teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury in the Southlands, who gives Tam another shake, and she tells him "Get up".
As Lis stands up, the former heir of the knight of castle Drubine in Sarcrin, groans and sits up in bed, he scowls as Lis pushes open wider the slot in the lamp on the stand next to his bed in his room, and says to him "Everyone's getting ready". Tam sighs, then kicks off his blankets saying "At least get out as i dress".
"You need help putting on your armour?" says Lisell Maera in a teasing fashion, who then adds "I bet there's plenty of she-dwarves willing to help you out with that". Tamric Drubine goes red in the face, and the sixteen year old teen from Brattonbury briefly laughs at him, before she relents, and makes her way out of his room, to wait in the corridor outside.
The nobleborn youngster shakes his head, and as usual he doesn't know what to make of Lisell's behaviour of late. Especially since summer, when they were in the region of Belinswae.
She's physically attractive, Tam won't deny that. Lis always has been. But her attitude concerning some things, has the former heir of the knight of castle Drubine at a loss at what to think.
He knows they're not especially close, he wonders if their backgrounds have something to do with that. He suspects so. But they are good friends who always look out for one another. But with Lisell's current attitude, and often reckless behaviour, in times of war as it is now. Tamric Drubine knows that she's in for whole lot of trouble if she doesn't watch herself.
The nobleborn youngster, who will soon turn thirteen years old, dons his armour, and gathers his weapons and equipment. Tam briefly checks his sword, then he makes his way to the door, and out of his room, here deep in the Kraelin clan mountainhold.
"When did you get in?" asks Tamric Drubine "Early last night" replies Lisell Maera, who like her fellow Southlander, is armoured, and has all her weapons, as well as her equipment. "And you?" asks Lis as they head down the corridor, towards the tunnel to the right. Glad that Tam's room isn't too deep in the mountain, because the deeper you go down, the less likely the dwarves are to light wall lamps to see things by.
"The day before yesterday" says the nobleborn youngster, who then asks "Did Percy come with you from the west?" Tamric Drubine then adds in a hopeful tone "If he did, he didn't happen to fall off a cliff did he?".
"Yeah he came back, and unfortunately he didn't fall off a cliff" says Lisell Maera "Pity" dryly murmurs Tam as they turn into the tunnel, where they walk along with dwarven warriors, who are making their way towards a set of steps in the distance. The two humans who are thankful that the tunnel is both wide, as well as high so that they don't have to stoop down as they walk, which they have to do in some places in the mountainhold. Switch to the elven language, so that they can converse privately.
"Seems the clan leaders were surprised with the spot that was chosen" quietly says Lisell Maera, who follows that up with "I hear tell that you picked the spot too, before he told them about it". "It seemed the right place for a smaller force, no pun intended, to attack a larger army" says the nobleborn youngster from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin in the Southlands.
As they head up the steps to one of the dining halls in the mountainhold before the battle that's planned for early this morning. Lisell Maera nods her head in agreement with what Tam just said.
She knows he has a talent for planning and battle tactics, something he's learnt from lord Farque and Dorc da Orc, and to a lesser extent from Riley Hait the mercenary ranger.
But now here, in the war between the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills, against the armies of the justifiers of Belinswae. Tamric Drubine's talents are being put into practice.
From what Lis has heard mention as her time as a runner in the army of the Kraelin clan. Tam has devised plans of attack that dwarven warriors have undertaken, and been successful with. Plans that he's been given free reign to devise and develop, without needing the authority of those higher up to give the go ahead for.
As they enter the busy dining hall, where dwarven warriors are getting a quick meal, as well as food supplies for the day, for no one knows how long the battle will go on for. The two Southlanders look around, then Lis says in a slightly dry tone "There's Percy, so lets not go there".
Not seeing either lord Farque or Helbe the elven thief, who they weren't expecting to see here anyway, the teenage orphan from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, spots a number of dwarven warriors they know well, at one of the long tables. The two human youngsters head to that particular table.
Sitting down next to one another, and after greeting some of the dwarven warriors, who are eating quickly, and a pair of she-dwarves bring over a couple of trenchers of food for them.
Both Lis and Tam look at the warrior Threl, who asks the two of them in the common language "Hey up lad and lass, you know what unit you've been placed in today?". Tamric Drubine shakes his head, and says "I don't" he glances at Lisell Maera beside him, who is peeling a hard boiled egg, and he asks her "Do you?".
"I don't" says Lis, who having peeled the shell off the egg, plops it into her mouth "Just as long as it isn't with Percy and those clanless that's always around him, i don't care where i am" quietly says the nobleborn youngster in the elven language.
The orphan teenager nods her head in agreement with that, then after munching on the boiled egg, she quietly says in the same language "Knowing our luck, we'll be put in some unit that's close to where he's positioned" she dryly adds "To keep an eye on him more than not".
"You're probably right" murmurs Tam in elven after he takes a sip of warm goats milk in his mug, that's been spiced, and had a dash of grain liquor added to it, then switching back to the common language, he says to the dwarves at this end of the long table "I guess you lot will be in the thick of it" as they're mostly heavy hammer and axe warriors.
"Aye lad" says old Tharlo, who like most of the warriors at this end of the long table, is in heavy chainmail, mixed with armour plate. He nods his bald head, to a pair of dwarven warriors to the right of Lis, and adds "Kyne and Kalm are with the heavy spear though, they might be getting more of the action than the rest of us, with what that lord of yours has planned".
Tamric and Lisell nod in understanding, for though the nobleborn youngster has a detailed understanding of today's battle plans, and the orphan teen might only know only the basics of it. They both know that all the spear units will be vital with what's been planned for this morning against the enemy.
So quickly they've come to take his orders, Tamric Drubine thinks to himself, who like Lis, knows that though the clan chieftain, Baedin Kraelin is in command of the clan's forces. It's lord Farque who is giving the orders. And not just here in the Kraelin clanhold. But also in the other clanholds throughout the Stone Hills.
For the Stone Hills dwarven clans are badly outnumbered by the armies of the justifiers of Belinswae. Armies that are incompetent a lot of the time. But even so, with their vastly superior numbers, they would be deep into the mountains proper if it wasn't for the undead warlords tactics. And the fact that they've attacked the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills during winter, instead of waiting for springtime to invade the clanholds.
After finishing their breakfast, the two youngsters from south of the equator, get up and leave, as have most of the warriors who they were sitting with at the end of the long table.
The two Southlanders keep away from sir Percavelle Lé Dic who is still at a long table, surrounded by the squad of clanless he's incharge of. Who he's telling a tale to at the moment, about his exploits during a battle he was in a number of years ago.
The nobleborn youngster, and the orphan teenager glance sideways at one another as they hear the loud, heavily armoured knight. Who can easily be heard over the boisterous dwarves left in the dinning hall.
They're relieved to hear that he's not talking about any battle that he's had with Dorc da Orc over the years. He's be specifically told not to mention the large ork. And miraculously so far this winter in the dwarven clanholds of the Stone Hills, he hasn't.
Tam and Lis walk by one of the large coal fireplaces that keeps the dinning hall warm as they exit the hall. It's built into the wall, and has an angled shaft above it, that heads higher up into the mountain.
Somewhere that shaft comes out of the side of the mountain, allowing the smoke to get out. The dwarves in the mountainhold don't have to worry if the smoke is seen. Because here in the mountains of the Stone Hills, there's a wind that's always blowing, that gets rid of any lingering smoke quickly.
It doesn't matter what the weather is outside, or what season it is. There's always a wind blowing through the hills and mountains. It's just how strong the wind is blowing from day to day, that's the only variable.
It's an extremely rare day anywhere in the Stone Hills, when the day is completely calm and there's no wind at all that's blowing.
The two humans from south of the equator head the same way as all the dwarven warriors are going. They're going down through the tunnels, heading to the southside of the mountainhold.
It's while the walking through one of the massive common halls, that's used for market days, that they're hailed by a familiar voice. Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera head towards a pillar, where stands a couple of dwarven warriors.
The former heir to castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin in the Southlands looks up, and sees that no outside light is coming in through the shaft openings cleverly built into the ceiling of the massive hall over fifty feet above the floor. He knows that it's still well before dawn outside.
"Greetings Jarka" says Lis to a young looking dwarven warrior, who wears a bearskin cloak over his armour "Greetings Lassie" says Jarka Mard, the youngest son of the chieftain of clan Mard, he looks at Tam, and slightly grins and adds "And greetings to you young lad".
"And you Jaŕg" says Tamric Drubine, who like Lisell Maera, nods to the large dwarf with Jarka, the mute Omick, who is carrying a heavy crossbow across his back.
Jarka points to the tunnel that all the dwarven warriors are making their way to, and he says to them "I'm to tell you that you've both been assigned to the unit we've been placed in" the young warrior who is from the neighbouring clanhold to the northeast, continues with "We're with a unit of crossbows and archers in support of some of the heavy spears".
Both Tam and Lis are slightly surprised by that, as they'll be a lot closer to the heavy fighting than they thought they would be. Jarka glances around, then quietly says in the elven language "You are both to observe the flow of the battle from our position too".
The young dwarven warrior, who is one of only a small number of dwarves in the Stone Hills who speaks the elven language, as does his father who taught him, while the mute Omick understands it. Then says to the Southlanders in the language of the elves "And young Tam, you are to make any changes that you see fit" Jarka Mard then adds "The unit commanders will give the orders to any of your changes".
Tamric Drubine understands why they've been assigned with the unit that Jarka is in. As he'll make sure that any changes in the battle plan that the nobleborn youngster comes up with. Will be done so. As the young son of the Mard clan chieftain is highly respected throughout the Stone Hills, even though he's not yet fifty years old.
Jarka is here in the Kraelin clanhold with a war party of about fifty warriors. His father has sent them to support their neighbours. Not just because the chieftains of the two clans are old friends. But because Jarka's father knows that if the enemy aren't stopped here in the Kraelin clanhold, they'll be in his clanhold next.
As they enter the tunnel that continues down into the mountain that goes south, Jarka Mard switches back to the common language, and quietly asks the two Southlanders "Have you both been in fairly large battles before?".
"Yes" reply Tam and Lis in unison, the young dwarven warrior in the bearskin cloak nods his head, and with a smile upon his bearded face, he says "I haven't". The nobleborn youngster and the orphaned teenager look down at him in surprise, Jarka with the grin still upon his face tells them "Oh I've been in skirmishes against the enemy over the last month or so, and I've fought in battles against other clans" Jarka Mard then adds "But never anything on the scale of this, i doubt if many of the other warriors have either" he briefly pauses before saying "I'm looking forward to it".
Behind him, the mute Omick grins and nods in agreement with his clan chieftain's youngest son . . . . . .

You Want A War? You've Got One! 8.

"Who is he?" asks justifier Marsille "A lead wyvern rider who was on patrol this morning" says an officer as they exit the command tent "And?" asks the justifier who is a sorcerer "He's the only one of the patrol to survive an attack this morning when they went ahead to check out an abandoned village" says the officer.
"Seems that village wasn't as abandoned as thought" sourly says the justifier, a man in his mid forties, who has been one of the rulers of the city of Falnic and the region of Belinswae for the last twenty years.
The two of them, along with a handful of guards make their way through the camp, that's mostly settled down now that it's night time. The sorcerer Marsille is just glad they've made camp this early tonight. Since the army has only traveled about five miles today. For once again they ran into problems, and today's was a common occurring one.
The pack animals and the wagon teams were playing up all day. The justifier who doesn't want the support staff and guards falling behind anymore. Is at his wits end, to get the damn horses and mules that haul the wagons and carts to go in the same direction as the rest of the army some days.
It's as if there's something deliberately making the pack animals misbehave on purpose in the opinion of the sorcerer from the city of Falnic. The justifier doesn't know it, but he's infact right with that assessment of the day's problems.
"We hardly went anywhere today, and now a patrol has been wiped out" says the sorcerer Marsille with a shake of his head, who then asks the officer walking beside him "How many in that patrol?". "Including the squad on the wyvern, over thirty sir" is the reply from the officer, the justifier winces, then as they walk by a cook fire, the sorcerer mutters "More than thirty, fuck".
"And the wyvern too sir" hesitantly adds the officer who continues with "It took off during the attack and hasn't been seen since" the justifier winces once more, then he quietly says "Damn it, those things are expensive, and bloody difficult to train" he softly sighs, then falls silent as they continue on their way through the camp.
The campsite tonight is along the base, and up the side of a hill, that's off the trade road they've been traveling on as they head north through the foothills into the Stone Hills proper. And tonight, like most nights so far this winter during the campaign against the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills, is bitterly cold with the wind blowing strongly as it is most of the time.
Justifier Marsille, who was all for the war. Though to start the campaign in the spring, not the winter. Refrains from sighing as they make their way down the hill. He's just glad it's not snowing here in the foothills at the moment, even though the day was fairly cloudy and grey, as it is tonight.
The sorcerer nods his head to one of the knights in his army, the ordered knight and his squire, are outside of their large tent. Being served dinner by his own cook, and attendant.
The sorcerer wishes he had servants as accomplished and dedicated as the knight's. Whose name he's never bothered to learn, just that he's from the order of the Virtuous Sword.
At least i can count of him, and the rest of the knights, justifier Marsille thinks to himself, who refrains from sighing at the main problem with his army, with the exception of it's inability to travel any lengthy distance during the daytime.
That problem he sees off through the darkness to the left as they continue downhill. It's the newest guards, those who have joined his army since the start of winter, when war broke out. Though join isn't exactly the right word to use when they're concerned. For they didn't actually join out of their own freewill, they were pressed into service.
Some of the newer guards away to the left are struggling to even light a fire. Whoever the more experienced guards are who are incharge of them has wandered off to let them fend for themselves. They new guards who for the most part were taken from the streets of Falnic and other towns north of the coastal city. Don't know much about soldiering, or about living in the rough, out in the wild countryside like these foothills.
The justifier dreads to think how inept they'll be once they get into the mountains of the Stone Hills. That's even if the army ever gets there at all.
The sorcerer Marsille, the officer with him, and the following guards, all of whom are experienced in the service of the army of the justifier from Falnic. Are down at the base of the hill, and the officer, who is holding a burning torch, points away to the right, and quietly says "He's at the infirmary".
"He's wounded?" asks the justifier who frowns as the officer didn't mention that "No justifier Marsille" says the officer, who then quietly adds "I thought it was best that he was held there". The sorcerer, like most men from the region from Belinswae, stands under five foot ten inches in height. But unlike most sorcerers, he doesn't wear layers of robes as they tend to do.
He does wear one layer, but it's thick, to ward off the cold.  And it's worn over leather armour. Something else most practitioners of magic tend to go without. The sorcerer Marsille also has a sword on his left hip. A sword that he knows how to use in battle. Something that also isn't the norm for one who is a spellcaster.
He quietly says to the officer beside him "Yes, that's probably best" as they make their way to the series of tents that's the infirmary. They're located at the rear of the camp, as it always is, at the southern end of the camp. Just infront of all the supply wagons and carts.
They're met outside on the infirmary tents by a field surgeon, and a subaltern. The junior officer quietly says to the sorcerer from the city of Falnic "Justifier Marsille he's in there with just a pair of guards".
"Very well" says the sorcerer to the subaltern, the justifier then adds "You lot remain out here" Marsille then nods for the officer who came to the command tent to get him, to enter the sick tent with him.
Once inside, justifier Marsille says to the two experienced guards in there "Leave us". "Yes justifier" say the two guards who then make their way out of the tent. When they've left, the sorcerer gestures at one of the lit lamps hanging from one of the tent poles. The lamp light becomes brighter as he and the officer walk over to the only cot that's occupied.
The guard on it is lying, facing the tent wall behind the cot he's on. And as the blowing wind outside, sends that tent wall fluttering as a gust blows by. The sorcerer Marsille after slightly frowning says to the officer "It's Nael isn't it?" as he recognises the guard who was found late this afternoon close to a nearby village. "It is justifier" says the officer.
Damn, he's one of my best lead riders, the justifier thinks to himself, then the spellcaster who wears armour beneath his single robe, and has a sword to go with his leather armour, says to the officer "Has he said anything at all?". "Nothing sir" says the officer, who continues with "He just nodded his head once in a while when i asked him some questions" the officer, a veteran of a dozen years in the army of justifier Marsille, then adds "That's how i found out his wyvern took off and never returned".
The sorcerer nods his head, then looking down at the guard who is lying still on the cot beneath a blanket "Nael what happened?" there's no response from the wyvern rider. The justifier was expecting that after hearing what the officer said was found at the abandoned village. So he reads the mind of the lead rider of the wyvern that disappeared when the patrol it was attached to was attacked and wiped out with the exception of guard Nael.
The sorcerer Marsille grimaces and instantly regrets reading the mind of the wyvern rider. After just a few moments, the justifier drops the spell and mutters "Damn it" he then looks over at the officer, and quietly tells him "His mind is a mess".
After seeing the images within the mind of the unresponsive wyvern rider, the sorcerer asks the officer "Where exactly was he found?" the officer answers with "Just outside the village, in the middle of a lich yard". The justifier nods his head, then he quietly says "That makes senses" the officer who has been around the sorcerer long enough, that he feels comfortable asking him questions, asks one of the rulers of Belinswae "Did you find out what happened sir?".
Justifier Marsille is silent for a few moments as he looks down at the wyvern rider Nael lying on the cot, then the sorcerer who was born, and still lives in the city of Falnic, looks over at the officer who is part of his command structure, and tells him "From what little i could understand, he believes they were attacked by a single individual".
The experienced officer blinks in surprise, then he mutters "Shit" the sorcerer Marsille nods then quietly says "Indeed" he briefly pauses, before he continues with "That's if what he remembers is true" the justifier then nods his head for the officer to follow him to the other end of the sick tent.
At the far end of the infirmary, the sorcerer quietly says to the officer "If it is true, we can't allow this be known" justifier Marsille then adds "The army is in disarray at the best of times, what with all the hidden attacks we've encountered, and the inability of those damn pressed guards to do anything right, let alone trying to travel even five miles a day because the wagon teams are always playing up".
The sorcerer from Falnic looks back to the other end of the sick tent where the unresponsive guard lies on a cot, oblivious to everything around him, then he looks at the officer beside him, and says "Do you understand what i mean?".
"Yes justifier Marsille" says the officer, who perfectly well knows what the sorcerer wants done "Get rid of the body" quietly says the sorcerer, who then gestures to the other end of the tent. The two of them head that way, and the officer stops beside the cot that the wyvern rider Nael is on, while the justifier makes his way outside.
Once he's out of the long sick tent, the sorcerer Marsille looks at the pair of experienced guards who were inside the sick tent when he arrived, and he tells them "You two" he gestures to the tent, and says "The commander needs your help with something".
"Yes justifier" says the experienced guards, who then make their way into the infirmary, as they do, the sorcerer Marsille says to the subaltern "No one else is to enter the tent until the commander has finished questioning the patient". "Yes justifier" says the junior officer, the justifier nods his head, then he and the guards who came with him from the command tent, that's up the hill, move away.
As he walks away, Marsille the sorcerer slightly shakes his head as he recalls the reoccurring image within the mind of the wyvern rider Nael, who at this moment in the sick tent is being strangled to death.
The image is blurred, and of a large figure in dark armour who is walking towards the lead wyvern rider between the slightly raised mounds, and stone and wooden markers of a lich yard as Nael tries to flee.
What the hell is that all about? the justifier Marsille thinks to himself, he slightly shakes his head once more, then silently adds, well, i mean, who the hell is that?
Watching the sorcerer who leads this particular army from Belinswae, walking away from the infirmary, is Narladene the ground pixie, who is sitting upon the top of a pole that's sticking out of the top of the sick tent the justifier was just in.
The tiny winged creature looks down through a gap between the pole and the fabric of the tent, and she sees the wyvern rider who lord Farque let live this mornings, being wrapped in a blanket by two other guards after he was strangled to death by the officer who is quietly telling the two guards what he wants done with the body.
Wonder if he knows? Narladene the ground pixie thinks to herself as she goes back to watching the sorcerer and those guards with him, head back up the hillside to the command tent.
Probably, the naturally magical creature thinks to herself as she sensed the justifier reading the mind of the wyvern rider before he was killed. She figures the spellcaster would of seen something of the person responsible for wiping out the patrol this morning in the village, that's only a mile and half north of where the army has camped tonight.
Narladene murmurs "If so, he got what he wanted" the 'he' the ground pixie is referring to there, is lord Farque. Who wanted to plant the image of himself into the mind of the wyvern rider, who he let live. So that the leader of this army from Belinswae, knows exactly what he looks like.
The tiny winged creature then stands up and turns around on the top of the tent pole she's on, and as the dead wyvern rider is carried out of the back of the sick tent. Narladene looks towards the supply wagons and carts further behind the infirmary, in particular all horses and mules on their tie lines, the naturally magical creature grins.
Time to have some fun, the grinning ground pixie thinks to herself, Narladene who has been playing havoc with all the wagon teams for the last week or so, cutting their tie lines and reins, or just telling them to run away, even though talking to horses and mules can be a chore as they often don't listen to her.
Knows that tonight is her last night of causing mayhem amongst the horses and donkeys of the army of the sorcerer from Belinswae. For early tomorrow, there will be a battle just a little bit to the north of here, not far from the abandoned village that's on a lakeside.
As she draws her tiny, but extremely sharp sword that she'll use to cut the tie lines the nearby horses are on, Narladene with the grin still upon her face takes off from the tent pole, and with her gossamer like wings fluttering, she heads towards the nearest picket line where horses are tied up. Knowing that she's the main reason that this army of over a thousand guards, and half again that many camp followers, has been constantly delayed as they've traveled through the foothills towards the Kraelin clanhold . . . . . .

You Want A War? You've Got One! 7.

The Stone Hills. Winter...

The wyvern lands, it's the first of the patrol to arrive. It flew over the village late yesterday afternoon, then again just after dawn this morning. Before the order was given from camp that it, and it's riders were to finally check out the village.
The lead rider and the eight guards on the wyvern get off and stand near it as it squawks in agitation, before settling down on its haunches.
The guards are waiting for the rest of the patrol who are on horseback, who should be here soon. Though they know they could wait for some time, as both those on horse, and on foot, haven't exactly been moving all that fast as the army of justifier Marsille has made it's way through the foothills towards the mountains proper of the Stone Hills.
As a blustery and cold wind blows across the small lake between the hill to the east, and the village. The guards in the service of one of the city of Falnic's leaders, don't go and explore the village.
For though it looks empty from the air, both yesterday afternoon, and again this morning. The army of the sorcerer Marsille has learnt the hard way that passing through what looks like an empty town or village, has led to more than a few casualties and fatalities as they've waged war upon the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills this winter.
That's why the guards from the coastal city of Falnic are waiting beside the wyvern, for the rest of the patrol on horseback, who are coming up the road, that's a few hundred yards to the west of the village.
A number of the guards stomp their booted feet, and swing their arms around to keep warm in the cold wind that's blowing, some of them hunker down in the lee of the wyvern. Which would rather be in the warm sands of the coastline in southern Belinswae, than be here in the foothills of the Stone Hills, even though both cold or hot weather doesn't effect them much like it does to people.
The lead rider paces back and forth near his flying steed, looking to the village to the track that leads to the nearby trade road, and back to the village again. Hoping that the rest of the patrol turns up soon, and that it's the type of patrol he and the guards with him, actually want to see arrive, and with good reason.
After pacing back and forth for a little while longer, as well as look at the village they've landed near, and the track from it to the road that's just out of view a few hundred yards away. The lead rider makes his way over to the guard standing away from the others, he's a scout, and one of the better one's in the army of justifier Marsille.
"Anything?" quietly asks the lead rider who controls the wyvern, which has just tucked it's head under one of it's wings, to get it out of the blustery wind that's blowing this morning.
"Doesn't look like anything" says the scout who is looking carefully at the village, which according to the maps of the area, is the last one inhabited by the free folk, before the lines of boundary of the clanhold named Kraelin.
"Then again so did some of those other villages" quietly says the scout, and man in his thirties, who wears a thick winter cloak over leather armour "Until those poor bastards who found themselves injured or dead in those traps" adds the scout, who like most men from Belinswae, is rather short for a human, for you won't find many from the region who top six foot in height, let alone any taller.
"Some of those bastards deserved what they got" quietly says the lead rider, the scout looks quickly over at the other guards, making sure none of them overheard that. The strong wind blowing this morning gives him reassurance that it's difficult to be overheard.
The scout then quietly says "True" he quickly follows that up with "Wyvern rider or not, don't let an officer hear you say something like that". "I won't" quietly says the lead rider, who just voiced an opinion that he and the rest of the guards with them think. Infact quite a lot in the army of the sorcerer Marsille think the same. Those guards who have been in his service for some time.
"Least we don't serve in justifier Kaellin's army" says the scout, who in his position, has had more contact with the armies of the justifiers of Belinswae, than others have so far this winter in the campaign against the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills.
"He's having real problems with them" says the scout who continues with "Too many of them in his army I've heard tell". The wyvern rider nods in understanding and agreement, he's just about to say something else on the subject, when the scout looks in the direction of the nearby road, and he quickly says "Think that's horses approaching".
Trying to listen over the blowing wind, the lead rider glances over at the wyvern, which has popped it's head out from beneath it's right wing, and is looking in the direction of the paved road that winds through the foothills. The large winged creature lets out a squawk, and the lead rider nods, then tells the scout "Friendlies".
The scout who has raised his stringed bow, and has an arrow in hand, returns the shaft to his quiver when they see horsemen come into view along the trail from the nearby road a few moments later.
Both the scout and the lead wyvern rider look carefully at the approaching horsemen, then the wyvern rider lets out a sigh of relief, then he quietly says "Not a one among them". The scout nods in agreement, he too is relieved when he sees that all the mounted guards, many of whom he knows, are all veterans in the army of justifier Marsille.
Even the youngest one amongst them has been in the army of the sorcerer from Falnic for at least six months. Which is a hell of a lot better than anyone who is serving in the justifier's army since the start of winter when the war broke out.
The subaltern in charge of the mounted guards holds up a hand in greeting as he and the rest of the patrol rein up. "Moved in and checked it out at all?" asks the officer with a nod of his head at the village.
"No sir" replies the wyvern rider, who then adds "We've been waiting for you and the rest of the patrol".
"Good" says the subaltern, who then gives the order to dismount, then after he asks the lead rider if the wyvern has heard or smelled anything in the village, and the lead rider replies in the negative. The officer gives the command for the entire patrol to move into the village and check it out. With only the lead rider staying back with the wyvern, as is the best practice when one is going through a village or town in enemy territory that's yet to be cleared.
The scout who arrived with the wyvern, is one of the two guards out infront of the patrol as they move through the village. There's over twenty five of them in total, and they check out each house, dwelling and building, one at a time, making sure there's no hidden traps, or worse, enemy fighters in hiding, waiting in ambush, as has been the case in some of the other villages and towns justifier Marsille's army has gone through here in the foothills of the Stone Hills.
They check out everything from houses to stables, to storage sheds to chicken coops. All are empty as they move through the village. There's no stock either, the villagers have taken their animals too.
"Looks like it's been empty for some time" quietly says the scout as he stands outside a small house "How long do you think?" asks the officer in command of the patrol as he looks around "A while I'd say" replies the scout, who then adds "Maybe the start of winter". "More than likely" says the subaltern, who then nods for the scout and the other guard leading the way, to continue.
They walk towards what looks like the village tavern, and the scout notices something, he frowns and holds up a hand for the others to stop.
As the blustery wind continues to blow, he kneels down and looks at something "What is it?" quietly asks the officer who has moved forward to see what it is.
The scout points and quietly says "Boot marks" who continues with "Not dwarven, human, large person too" after a pause he adds "Steel". "Armoured?" asks the subaltern in surprise "Heavily" says the scout with a nod of his head. "Hmmm" murmurs the officer, for knights and the like aren't exactly common in Belinswae. With only a handful, from some order the subaltern hasn't bothered to find out what it is, serving in the army of justifier Marsille.
"Recent by the looks of it" quietly says the scout, who continues with "This morning maybe" he points to the lake side of the village and quietly says "From there" then he points to the tavern that's a little bit ahead to their right, and he quietly adds "To there".
The subaltern looks back at the rest of the patrol, and nods his head at the tavern, and quietly says "Surround it" the officer then tells the scout and the other guard who have been leading the way "Move cautiously, we all know what's happened to others at some of the villages and towns that were thought to be clear".
The scout and the other guard nod, then as the rest of the patrol move to surround the tavern, the two of them move slowly towards the front door of what's the largest structure in the village. They're followed by the subaltern and two more of the guards in the army of the justifier Marsille.
The scout and the other guard step up onto the porch of the tavern, the front windows of which are shuttered and boarded shut. They stand on either side of the closed door, and after looking at the door handle, the scout takes a hold of it.
The subaltern with his sword drawn, as have the two other guards with him have, nods to the scout to open the door. The scout after looking at the other guard opposite him, nods and pulls down the wooden handle, the other guard opposite him then pushes the door open.
The officer steps towards the open doorway, and he peers inside "Seems empty" quietly says the subaltern as his eyesight adjusts to the darkness inside the tavern, he frowns as he thinks he catches sight of movement.
The officer in command of the patrol blinks in surprise as he suddenly distinguishes the outline of a large figure sitting behind the table that directly faces the open doorway.
He goes to say something, when all of a sudden something slams into his chest, and he goes flying backwards from the open doorway, to land on the ground, a good thirty feet back from where he was just standing.
The lead wyvern rider is crouching down, throwing pebbles at a large rock that's nearby, when all of a sudden he hears screams and shouts coming from within the village.
He stands up frowning as he looks towards the village "Fuck" mutters the wyvern handler, who turns around towards the wyvern, as he does he hears a loud shout from within the village, from an unfamiliar voice, in an unfamiliar language, whatever it is, it isn't dwarven, nor goblin, and it's definitely not the common language.
The lead rider stumbles back as he's buffeted by the wind coming from the wings of his flying steed, that has suddenly stood up and is flapping it's wings.
"What the hell?" murmurs the stunned lead rider as the wyvern suddenly launches into the air, he yells at the large winged creature to return. But it's flying away, not looking back as it heads across the small lake, towards the hills to the east.
The wyvern rider spins around drawing his sword as he continues to hear the screaming and shouting coming from within the nearby village. The horses of the patrol, are breaking their tie lines and running away.
And as he goes to chase after one of the horses that's broken free, the lead rider suddenly stops as he looks towards the village. He sees the scout he was talking to earlier, stumble into view from around a house on this side of village.
The scout is holding his left shoulder with his right hand, as he's missing his left arm. He stumbles forward, then suddenly he's lifted off his feet, and he's pitched forward nearly ten yards when he's struck in the back with a short spear, that a lot of the guards in the army of justifier Marsille use.
The lead rider stumbles backwards as he looks at the dead scout who is pinned face first to the ground. The wyvern handler hears a yell of pain from within the village, then he blinks in surprise as he briefly sees a body fly up into the air from behind a house, then fall back down out of sight. It was another of the guards in the patrol.
Breathing heavily, and scared out of his wits, the lead wyvern rider turns and runs. And as the cold, blustery wind of the winter's day continues to blow this morning, he runs for his life, heading north.
Lord Farque walks around a small storage shed, and sees the last member of the enemy patrol still alive, the wyvern rider, fleeing north.
As he starts heading that way, a faint smile forms on the face of the undead warlord behind the visor of his full helm.
"How appropriate" murmurs lord Farque as the last member of the enemy patrol who were just checking out the abandoned village, is running straight for the bone field, or lich yard as it's more commonly referred to, that's just north of the village . . . . . .