You Want A War? You've Got One! 29.

Nomad's Plains. Winter...

"We fucken gotta enough?" asks Dorc da Orc "Maybe" says Riley Hait the mercenary ranger as they stand just outside the latest nomad's camp they've visited. The large ork rolls his eyes and mutters "Fuck" as he was of the opinion that he could attack the city of Falnic all by himself, and that they didn't particularly need an army.
The ranger Hait rubs his chin as he thinks about something, then he turns and waves to the tribal leader Chanük, and his brother Saladén the far hunter and calls out to them in the hordes dialect of the southern tundra, which is almost identical as their own language "We'll be back in a little while".
The mercenary ranger who is from the elven principality of Envadarlen in the Southlands then gestures to the northwest and says to the ork warleader "That way".
Dorkindle grunts as he has a fair idea where they're going. After all the large ork spent much of the past summer, living in and around this camp of tribal nomads.
As the two of them walk in the crisp, cool air of a clear winter's morning here in the dry, arid plains where the nomad tribes make their home. The ork weaponsmith drinks from a sack made from sheep's hide, lined with sheep's intestines. It's full of fermented sheep's milk, which is quite alcoholic, and of course the large ork grew fond of it when he stayed here during the summertime.
The two of them from south of the equator are fairly quiet as they walk to the north and west. The only thing they really talk about, is when Riley Hait after looking south in the direction of the long sand, asks the warleader of the ork race "Any of those sand dragons about?" and the large ork replies with "Nah cunt, none of them fuckers around at the mo".
They make their way along a dry creek bed, that hasn't seen running water through it in centuries. The two of them climb up out of the creek bed, and head up a rock field that goes up a rise.
"Me home" says Dorc da Orc with a chuckle as they head to the top of the rise, where the entrance to a cave is. Next to the cave entrance, stands the large skull of a sand dragon, which the large ork killed during the summer when he was staying here in the Nomad's Plains.
They enter the cave, and go down the sandy incline, towards the large pool of water that's at the bottom of the cave. The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks scowls at the water supply of the nearby tribe of plain's nomads. And he keeps as far away from it as possible, as the ranger Hait heads to the right, to a hole in an alcove, or grotto in the cave.
Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman ducks down to enter the alcove in the cave, while Dorkindle remains out in the cave propper.
The mercenary ranger who is infact a hordes outrider from the southern tundra, who just happens to inhabit the body of Riley Hait. Takes a hold of something and starts to drag it across the sandy floor of the cave.
"Dorc, pull that out" says the human ranger who was raised and trained by some of the elven warders of his homeland, the principality of Envadarlen.
The large ork grunts and bends down, and reaches into the grotto. And grabs the chest the ranger Hait was pulling along the cave floor.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, who killed said matriarch, and wears her skull tied to his thick, waist belt, that keeps his grubby, knee length pants up, and not around his ankles.
Says "Loot" with a grin upon his broad, feral looking face as he easily picks up the chest. The ranger Hait nods his head yes when he comes out of the grotto, then he says "It is indeed".
The chest is one of the strongboxes that they, the group as a whole, took from the tower of lord Haldéilv. When they were in the elven principality of Maladimbáh during the summertime.
Now the mercenary ranger has decided to take it back to Maladimbáh, though from a suggestion given by lord Farque in the orders he had sent to them at the beginning of last week.
The Southlander says to the large ork from the southern polar region of the world "We're going to take it back to Maladimbáh" in response to the ork weaponsmith asking him "What we gonna do with this fucken loot?".
"Fucken why?" asks Dorkindle, who then grunts and murmurs "Ah" in understanding, when Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson quietly tells him "Every army needs archers".
Dorc da Orc ties the heavy strongbox to his weapon harness, and it bounces against his rear end as he walks, following the ranger Hait up and out of the cave where the warleader of the ork race spent a fair bit of time during the summer. As it offered him shade from the blistering sunshine that pounds down upon the dry, arid plains where the nomad tribes make their home.
The two of them make their way back to the nearby camp, and after getting a few supplies. Much of which is more fermented ewe's milk for the ork weaponsmith to drink as they travel to the northeast to Maladimbáh.
They head off in the direction of the elven principality. As they walk that way, Dorkindle asks the mercenary ranger "Think any of them fucken pointy ears will wanna fight them justy-friers in belly sway?".
Riley Hait tries to suppress a grin, and fails to after hearing what the ork weaponsmith just called the Justifiers, and the region they rule, Belinswae. And he tells the large ork "They might" the mercenary ranger then adds "Especially that lord Walashàele, especially after what happened during the summer, then his subsequent refusal of the offer by one of the Justifiers" he then adds "Any noble, either elven or human, don't exactly like being second best".
The ork warleader grunts then mutters "Well he fucken better come along, cause Dorc wanna kill some cunts soon" the prospect of waiting even longer to attack the city of Falnic, doesn't sit well with the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
For the ranger Hait, he knows that the coastal city of Falnic is probably already getting the war it's residents thought they were far from, and definitely safe from.
From lord Farque's missive, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy, who is in the largest city of the region of Belinswae, has by Riley's reckoning, probably picked up his attacks against the Justifiers and their supporters.
The elf from the principality of Alínlae in the Southlands is no doubt creating havoc in the coastal city by now. And hopefully creating panic amongst the populace, who thought the war against the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills would never touch them.
Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman also knows that what he and Dorc da Orc plan to do. With a gathering of an army of nomad tribesmen, who after untold centuries, are finally going to do what many of them have thought about doing for years and years. Attack the townsmen of Belinswae, who for generations, have tried to systematically wipe them out.
Along, with hopefully an army of elven house guards from the principality of Maladimbáh, no doubt mostly archers. Will attack the city of Falnic by surprise.
Well that's the plan anyway, Riley Hait thinks to himself as he and the large ork walk across the dry and arid plains, heading north, and slightly east to the elven principality that lies to the north of the Nomad's Plains.
They eat their midday meal on the walk, which is fine by Dorc da Orc, who is used to such things. Not so the ranger Hait, who though is adept at eating on horseback. But eating whilst walking, is a slightly different prospect. And is something he's never been too keen on over the years.
They continue walking through the afternoon, and into the early evening. Until it gets quite cold, and the mercenary ranger has to stop for some well earned rest.
They stop at an empty camp site for one of the nomad tribes. They both hop down into one of the cuttings in the ground. And in the fairly narrow defile, the ranger Hait wraps himself up in his cloak and blanket as it gets bitterly cold overnight in the wintertime here in the Nomad's Plains, and tries to keep some sleep after he has a cold meal for dinner.
Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson wakes in the middle of the night to hear Dorc da Orc grunting, as he picks him up saying "Nuff fucken sleep pretendy Zubu" and he's slug over the right shoulder of the large ork, who also picks up the mercenary ranger's pack.
The ranger from south of the equator, who though half asleep, guesses that the ork warleader hasn't slept at all. And doesn't need to as he sets off again, heading north to Maladimbáh, with the wrapped up ranger Hait over his broad, right shoulder like one of his sacks containing his possessions.
The Southlander doesn't particularly care to be so close to the ork warleader who more than reeks. Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman gives silent thanks to the tundra gods that it's winter at the moment. For during the summertime, Dorkindle does more than reek, he flat out pongs. Smelling like the worst kind of damp dung you can imagine.
The human ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen in the Southlands, is also glad he's over the shoulder of Dorkindle. And not sitting in the crook of his arm, as Tamric Drubine used to sit when the nobleborn youngster was smaller.
Nor is he tucked up under an arm of the large ork, as Dorc da Orc's pet pig Piggy, used to be carried around. The ranger Hait breathes a sigh of relief as he isn't going to be carried around like Dorkindle's now dead pet pig, was once carted around.
Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson eventually falls back to sleep listening to the large ork murmuring away in his own language, while cackling about something, of what, the mercenary ranger has no idea, and doesn't want any idea of.
Riley Hait wakes when Dorkindle drops him on the ground after sun up, and says "Wake up cunt" followed by "You can fucken walk now". After unwrapping himself from his blanket, and then having something to eat and drink. The mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen gets up, and gets underway again, walking beside the large ork who is busy drinking more of the fermented ewe's milk.
They travel like that throughout the day, and through the night, with Dorc da Orc once again carrying the sleeping ranger Hait.
It's the middle of the next morning when Dorkindle tells Riley Hait that he can see the hills and trees of southern Maladimbáh. By early afternoon, the mercenary ranger from the Southlands sees it too.
And by the following morning, they're in the fairly mountainous principality.
"East" says Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, when they go over a hill, and see a familiar landmark in a heavily forested valley, that's backed on it's north side by a range of mountains. Peaks that are dry in the summertime, but now in winter, they're topped by snow.
"Not north" grunts Dorc da Orc as they look at the tor that sticks up out of the forest floor, a tor on top of which sits the tower of house Haldéilv.
Wondering who is residence there now, and guessing that lord Walashàele has put someone there who is an ally, or more likely a family member. The ranger Hait who gestures further east, says "We'll go into the lands of house Walashàele" he continues with "I'll bet the lord there will definitely listen to what we have to offer" he then silently adds, and that we'll pay him with the gold of his rival that he vanquished, will be pretty fucking ironic.
The two from south of the equator head down into the valley, and head east in the direction of the lands of house Walashàele, where they hope to obtain the service of elven house guards, for the army they're raising to attack the city of Falnic in Belinswae . . . . . .

You Want A War? You've Got One! 28.

Falnic. Belinswae. Winter...

"Did you hear what happened to the goldsmith?" says the shipping agent who continues with "The one just off the square around the corner, does a fair bit of work for the high and mighty, including some of the justifiers".
"No, what's happened?" asks Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy, who knows perfectly well what's happened to said goldsmith, as he's the one who did it.
"They say he was murdered in his sleep" says the shipping agent, who shakes his head as he sits behind his desk, looking out the glass window to their right, which shows the harbour, and the open ocean beyond.
"Right in his own bed it was" says the shipping agent, a man in his fifties, who many years ago was a sailor, but found life on land far more appealing than being at sea for most of the year.
"His mistress was beside him when it happened, she didn't even wake as he was strangled to death" says the shipping agent in disbelief, who after a moment's pause, adds in a slightly dry tone "Now his wife wasn't too pleased to find out he was cheating on her with a tavern wench".
The spy from the elven principality of Alínlae in the Southlands laughs, and after a moment, so does the shipping agent. After they share a laugh, the elf from south of the equator says "I think his wife might not be too upset at his untimely demise".
"That's the truth, she'll be glad he's out of the way, and their son can take over the business" says the shipping agent, who is of the opinion that the son is near to useless, and that the once prosperous goldsmith's shop will soon be out of business.
The shipping agent looks away from the window, and looks at the elf sitting across from him, and he says "Well then, half a dozen it is" he continues with "They're pleased to do any work if truth be told, not a lot of trade of late, just the loading of goods for the navy going north up the coast, but they've got their guild cargo men for that" he then adds "Regular longshoremen will take any work they can, especially if it'll keep them from being noticed by the press gangs".
Dalinvardél Tanith nods to that, then says "I can imagine" then the elven spy who was once in the service of one of the noble houses in his homeland of Alínlae, says "I'll be waiting for them at the arranged time".
The shipping agent nods, then tells the elf, who he thinks is from Maladimbáh, and who has been a valued customer since the end of autumn "I'll have them there" he clears his throat, then he says "Now about the price".
The haggle for a little bit, and eventuality agree on a price, and Dalinvardél Tanith finally hands over a small pouch of coins. He thanks the shipping agent, and shakes his hand. Then the elven spy from the Southlands makes his way out of the man's office, then the building.
Before what he plans to do later in the early evening, the elf from the principality of Alínlae in the Southlands has something else he wants to do. Just a quick little bit of murder, which he's been doing a lot of since returning to the city of Falnic earlier in the week.
Dalinvardél or Dalin as he's commonly referred to by those who know him, heads uphill, leaving the northern part of the harbour behind.
The elven spy who is part of the war effort against the justifiers of Belinswae, who have invaded the Stone Hills, and the dwarven clanholds there.
Has been attacking the justifiers, and those who are closest to them. Whether they be business owners, who supply goods to the justifiers for their war against the dwarven clans in the land immediately to the north of Belinswae.
Or those who are strong supporters of the war, for not all townsmen are in favour of the invasion into the Stone Hills. Some who gladly support the raids into the Nomad's Plains against their longtime enemies, the tribal nomads. Are against the war to the north in the Stone Hills.
Even justifiers are staying out of the war against the dwarven clans to the north. True most of them are from southern Belinswae. Especially along the coast.
Though there is one prominent justifier here in the heart of the region, here in the city of Falnic, who is not involved in the invasion into the Stone Hills. And has been against it from the get go. Who argued not to pursue this course of action. But was shouted down when the justifiers met, to decide to attack the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills.
The dwarves who have the raw materials that's needed for the justifiers continuing raids into the Nomad's Plains. Not to mention all the treasures found throughout the Stone Hills. Which will more than pay for the continuing raids against the nomad tribes on the vast, dry, arid plains to the east of Belinswae.
That justifier being the youngest one, the wizard Sammacin. Who has had a serious change in his life since the summer. When he had a run in with lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief.
The elven prince from Laerel who cast a spell upon the wizard Sammacin, which has brought about his change in attitude.
Which has also put him at odds against the other justifiers here in Falnic. In particular the mage Kaellin, whose idea it was in the first place to invade the Stone Hills, after he failed to secure a treaty with a lord in the south of the elven principality of Maladimbáh. Where his guards could of been garrisoned, and have easy access down into the Nomad's Plains.
It's a hell of lot easier raiding down into the dry, arid plains from Maladimbáh, than it is to head east from Belinswae. As the nomads tend to keep as far away from their enemies, the townsmen of Belinswae, as much as they can.
Dalinvardél Tanith briefly stops at the top of a street and looks down towards the harbour. A gust of wind blows by, but it's nothing to the bone chilling winds he experienced in the Stone Hills. The elven spy is glad to be here in the mild winter weather of Falnic, compared to what it's like over a hundred and twenty miles north of here, in the clanholds of the Stone Hills dwarves.
The elf from south of the equator turns into a lane and makes his way towards a leather workers shop, behind a nearby square. A shop that's been busy all winter, as the owner is working exclusively for three of Falnic's justifiers.
Making leather goods for their armies. Everything from leather satchels for documents and missives. To leather armour for the guards of those three justifiers. The elven spy intends to kill the shop owner this afternoon, before he goes ahead with what he's planned for tonight.
As he exits the lane, Dalin glances up at the early afternoon sky, and sees that it's continuing to cloud over, as a bit of a storm front comes in off the ocean "Good" murmurs the elf from south of the equator, who knows that cloud cover later on, will help with what he has planned for the night.
It's early evening, and Dalinvardél Tanith is at the corner of a warehouse down near the docks, when he sees the half a dozen longshoremen approach. They're all pushing hand carts. And they all look a little nervous, for the press gangs have started to patrol this part of the city. When previously they've been mostly around the docks in the south of the city.
"Here you go" says Dalin as he hands one of the dock workers a folded piece of parchment "What is it?" asks the longshoreman "Justifier's pass" replies the elven spy from south of the equator.
There's sighs of relief from the dock workers, who all know they're safe from being taken, and pressed into one of the armies or the navy, now that they've got that pass.
"In here" says Dalinvardél Tanith who points to the warehouse, and leads the way in "Follow me" adds the elf from the principality of Alínlae in the Southlands.
Inside Dalin takes a lamp that's lit by a crystal from the Stone Hills, using a torch or a flame lit lamp wouldn't necessarily be the smartest idea. "This way" quietly says the elven spy who leads the longshoremen into a large room in the relatively empty warehouse. Inside the room sits just half a dozen large barrels, which are wrapped in a layer of thick, damp, wool.
"Kinda smells like lamp oil" says one of the longshoreman as he another of the dock workers picks up a barrel and puts it in his hand cart.
"Kinda does, doesn't it" says Dalin as he watches the longshoremen load the carts, the Southlander then adds in a slightly dry tone "But it's not".
Once all six carts are loaded, the elf who served in one of the noble houses in his homeland of Alínlae, leads the way out of the warehouse, to a nearby dock.
Even though it's early evening, there's hardly anyone about. There isn't a curfew in Falnic, but there might as well be one in the city. As a lot of people, especially harbour side, are afraid to be out at night this winter, due to the roving press gangs.
As they head to a particular dock, they pass one such press gang heading the opposite way.
They're a group of ten in dark clothing, lightly armoured beneath. And carrying cudgels, and two of then have chains and stocks in sacks if the clanking from them as they walk by is anything to go by.
They eye the longshoremen and the carts they're pushing. But they leave them alone as they see it's an elf who is leading them to one of the nearby docks.
Dalinvardél Tanith looks back at the press gang once they've gone by, a press gang who are just guards in the service of one of the Justifiers of Belinswae.
I should really do more about them, the elven spy thinks to himself, as lately he hasn't killed many of those guards who are in the press gangs. He's been quite busy with other things, like this evening's goings on.
The dock has steps leading down to the water, at the base of the steps are tied a pair of ship's boats. Sailors in black clothing are at the oars, waiting for them, there's two in one boat, and three in the other.
They help the dock workers to load the barrels into the boats, once the boats are loaded, Dalin hands one of the dock workers a small pouch of coins, and quietly says "A little something extra for you lot".
"Thank you sir" quietly says the longshoreman who then heads quickly back up the steps, gets his hand cart and hurries away with his fellow dock workers.
While the elven spy gets into the boat with just the two sailors, and he quietly says "Let's go" followed by "We've got that dock" he looks over at the other boat and tells them "You've got the warehouse on the pier".
There's head nods, then oars are slipped into the water, and they push off. Heading into the wind, and the lightly falling rain that's just started.
They approach a dock on the south side of the harbour, slipping through ships that are anchored out from it. The dock is one of the docks used exclusively by the navy of Belinswae. The navy being the only thing that the Justifiers use communally, unlike their armies, which are individual to say the least.
One of the sailors, a smuggler like all of them in the two boats, gestures to under the bench that Dalin is sitting on. The elven spy reaches under it, and take hold of a mallet, the wooden head is covered with a soft rubber like substance found in trees from the south of Belinswae.
With a couple of hits, the Southlander knocks out the bung in one of the three barrels in the boat as they head under the dock.
The barrel is leaning up against the starboard side gunnel, and as the boat heads slowly beneath the dock this night, Dalin and one of the smugglers lifts up the barrel a bit, and pour out the contents.
The smell of naphtha is strong as it pours out, it's why they're all wearing dark cloths covering their mouths and noses.
"Quiet" softly says Dalinvardél Tanith when one of the smugglers quietly says "Hope not much of that gets on the boat". They remain silent as they pour out the three barrels of naphtha beneath the long dock, that has half a dozen navy vessels tied up to it this night.
Beneath a nearby pier, the other smuggler's row boat is doing the same thing. That pier has a large warehouse on it, in which is stored goods, everything from weapons to food stuffs, that heads north up the coast to northern Belinswae. Supplies for the Justifier's armies fighting the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills.
A little bit later tonight, that pier and the warehouse on it. Along with this dock, and the ships tied up to it. And a few vessels moored close by. Will all be on fire, and will be completely destroyed when Dalinvardél Tanith lights the naphtha that's floating on the surface of the water.
By the early morning, the people of the Falnic will realise that the war against the dwarven clanholds of the Stone Hills, has suddenly come to their city, when they've thought they've been safe and out of harms way as they're a good hundred and twenty miles from the fighting . . . . . .

You Want A War? You've Got One! 27.

The Stone Hills. Winter...

Old Tharlo walks over with a resigned look upon his face "What is it?" asks clan chief Baedin Kraelin, who is pretty certain he knows what the look on Tharlo's face is all about.
"Chief, we've found more of them" says old Tharlo "And?" prompts the Kraelin clan chieftain when the old dwarven warrior sourly smiles and falls silent.
With his clan chief standing there staring at him, Tharlo finally relents and says "He's gone on ahead to deal with them by himself". The clan chieftain who also happens to be a hammermaster looks beyond Tharlo to where Helnd is standing, Helnd with a resigned look on his face, nods yes when he sees his clan chief looking at him.
Baedin Kraelin rolls his eyes, then after shaking his head in disbelief, the dwarven clan chief asks Tharlo "How many of them?". "Just over a dozen of them chief" replies the old warrior "Guards, or camp followers like we've been finding for the last two weeks?". "By the looks of it, most be actual guards" says old Tharlo.
The hammermaster Kraelin nods, then quietly says "By Thaxel and Dovarn, mayhap we'll get lucky, and one of them will actually take his head off". "Aye hopefully chief" says old Tharlo, who after a slight pause, adds in a dry tone "But i doubt it".
"Aye" murmurs the clan chieftain, who then sighs and follows that up by sourly smiling, then he looks over to his right, where on some rocks, sits a rather rotund dwarf in a long fur cloak, who has similar facial features as the Kraelin clan chief.
"You want to look on him cousin?" asks the dwarven hammermaster "Why?" says Barmil Kraelin the delver, who scratches at his short cropped brown beard, and adds "He'll be fine". Staring at his cousin the delver, the clan chief dryly says "Humour me". The younger cousin sighs, then says "I'm telling you, he'll be fine" he continues with "You need a whole damn army to stop that one" Barmil Kraelin rolls his eyes as his older cousin the clan chief just continues to stare at him.
"Oh alright" mutters the most powerful spellcaster in clan Kraelin, who gets up from the rocks he's sitting on, so that he can cast. He finds sitting down an awkward position to cast spells, he needs to feel steady on his feet, though grounded, so to speak, through his feet and up through the rest of his body to feel comfortable casting spells.
Baedin Kraelin looks at old Tharlo, who has lifted his snowy white eyebrows in a questioning manner. The clan chieftain just shrugs his shoulders in reply, and refrains from sighing at what he has to deal with.
The hammermaster glances over at his tubby cousin. And though as much as he likes his cousin, the clan chieftain wishes he had another spellcaster with him helping him out.
Baedin Kraelin would of liked to have that mage Mira Reinholt here. Who from all accounts, is blowing up everything left, right and center, over to the west on the coast, in the Galve clanhold, and down into northern Belinswae there. Apparently the mage from south of the equator has personally killed two justifiers. And has their armies there in disarray.
Or the Kraelin clan chief would like to have the elven prince, Helbenthril Raendril back. As he's proved more than useful when he's worked with the Kraelin clan. But he's gone east to help out clan Omban, who are under attack from one of the largest army's from Belinswae that has invaded the Stone Hills.
Instead Baedin Kraelin is stuck with his cousin Barmil. Who like all delvers, dislikes being outside. In Barmil's case, he absolutely hates being out from beneath the ground.
And the hammermaster had to first bribe him to leave their mountainhold, then secondly has plied him with strong drink every morning to keep him outside in the sunshine, wind, rain and snow. In today's case, sun and wind, as it's a clear cold day, and windy. Like most winters days here in the Stone Hills.
There's another reason the clan chief has got his cousin the delver to remain out of the tunnels, strongholds, and mines in their clanhold. Though Baedin Kraelin doesn't like thinking about that, and he shoves it out of his mind for the moment.
"Well what's he doing?" asks the clan chief who is also a hammermaster "He's approaching a group of justifier's guards" replies Barmil Kraelin, who continues with "He's walking straight down the middle of the road, he's not very stealthy is he".
"He dunny no what stealthy is" dryly says old Tharlo, both chief Baedin Kraelin and the warrior Helnd nod in agreement.
"Looks like they think he's one of them" says the dwarven delver "Aye they've got a few mercenaries like him" says the clan chieftain "Not exactly like him" dryly says old Tharlo, Baedin Kraelin snorts, then says "Aye".
Then the clan chief says to his cousin "Come on then Barm, show us what's happening like" the dwarven delver scowls at his cousin, and tells him "You know how bloody difficult it is to cast two spells at once?".
Refraining from rolling his eyes, the dwarven hammermaster says "His highness, prince Helbenthril casts plenty of spells at once" beside his clan chief, old Tharlo nods his head in agreement.
"That elven prince is overly talented" says Barmil Kraelin, who didn't say that as a compliment, but in a tone of derision, the dwarven delver then mutters "And by Thaxel's beard i swear he be a thief if anyone asked my opinion of him, which they haven't".
The clan chieftain nudges old Tharlo who just muttered "Fatty's jealous of someone" the old warrior falls silent. Though he doesn't have anything to worry about, because Barmil Kraelin didn't hear it, as he's too busy saying "He's walking straight towards them" the dwarven delver pauses then adds "He's drawing a hammer, and that nasty looking pick axe of his" he pauses again, then says in a dry tone "He's attacking them".
"They're dead" dryly murmurs Tharlo, both chief Baedin Kraelin and Held nod in agreement with the old warrior with the long white beard.
The chieftain of clan Kraelin is just about to suggest they gather the rest of the warriors, and head down to the trade road, and make their way south along it until they get to where the skirmish with the enemy is taking place right now.
When the other reason that his cousin Barmil is staying up here outside, comes stomping through the scraggly looking trees behind them.
Wincing, Baedin Kraelin hears old Tharlo mutter "Fuck me" then the old warrior says "I'm off" and he turns around and quickly walks away, the clan chieftain asks him "Where are you going?".
The old warrior doesn't reply, but the dwarven hammermaster is pretty certain he hears old Tharlo mutter "To find a high cliff to walk off". The chief of clan Kraelin looks over at Helnd, and finds his acting second trying to slip away without being noticed.
Before his chieftain can ask him where he's going, Helnd quickly says "Gonna check on the lads, get them moving like" before he hurries after the hastily departing Tharlo. Baedin Kraelin scowls at them as they rush off.
Holding in a sigh, the clan chieftain turns around, and he looks at his cousin, who has sat back down on the rocks he was sitting on previously. Sitting with him on the rocks, is another fairly rotund individual, a she-dwarf, his wife.
"Hight chief" says Fomar Kraelin, Baedin Kraelin makes an noncommittal sound, which sounded like a grunt more than anything else, then he says "Fomar" to his cousin's wife.
She-dwarves tend not to join war parties, infact they're discouraged in doing so. And then there's the reason they think it's the duty of male dwarves to do all the fighting, while they, the she-dwarves, do other things in the clanhold.
Well that's how it is here in the Stone Hills, and in other places where the clan society is strong in dwarven communities. Though in some spots, like down in the Southlands, you'll occasionally see she-dwarves as warriors. Though it's hardly a common occurrence.
The Kraelin chieftain looks at his cousin's wife, who insisted she come along if her husband was going to leave the clan's mountainhold. It's the main reason Barmil actually came up from underground, it's because his wife Fomar wanted to come along, and it gave the delver confidence to come up outside.
Suppose i should be grateful that she got Barm to come along, Baedin Kraelin thinks to himself, the dwarven hammermaster softly sighs, then silently adds, but i can't find in my heart to do so.
Fomar Kraelin is a bit of a glutton, infact the clan chief thinks she's a fucking pig if he's honest. As she sits there, she's eating some cooked fowl, from where she got that, Baedin Kraelin has no idea.
Then there's the consistent chattering from her, Fomar likes to talk as much as she eats. At the moment she's chattering away to her husband as she eats. Which is never a pretty sight.
And her fondness for talking isn't the best when they're moving through the hills and mountains. She talks when she should be silent on a track or trail, if they know that some of the enemy are about.
Getting her to shut up, has been a pain in the ass for the clan chief for the last couple of weeks since they've headed through the foothills south of their clanhold. To go after the survivors of justifier Marsille's army, who they defeated in what's now being called, the Battle of the Redoubt.
"What you be doing?" asks Fomar Baedin to her husband the delver "Checking up on him" replies Barmil Kraelin as he and his wife sit side by side on a pile of rocks.
"Who?" asks the she-dwarf "Him" replies the dwarven spellcaster, it takes a moment for Fomar to realise who her husband is referring to, and as she throws away the wing bone she has just stripped bare, she grins, then says "Oh aw i do like him".
You would, Baedin Kraelin dryly thinks to himself, the dwarven hammermaster then silently adds in the same dry tone, he talks as bloody much as you do.
"Best be going, see if he's alright like" says the clan chieftain, who turns and walks away and starts to make his way downhill to the trade road. Baedin Kraelin grimaces as behind him he hears Fomar say to his cousin "Come on then, let's see how he fares too, we dunny want anything to happen to him". "He be fine" says the dwarven delver.
The clan chieftain quickens his pace as he hears his cousin's wife start to whine in her annoying voice that she wants to go and see too. The dwarven hammermaster knows that Barmil will relent quickly to appease his wife.
By the gods, bloody all of them too, i don't know who is worse! Baedin Kraelin thinks to himself, the chief of clan Kraelin then silently adds, her or the madman?
"Definitely the madman" the hammermaster mutters under his breath as he almost runs down to the road, where he sees the fairly large war party has already assembled, and are moving south, to join those who have gone ahead.
The dwarven clan chief hurries forward to where old Tharlo and his acting second Helnd are at the front of the war party. Baedin Kraelin wants to put as much distance between his cousin Barmil, and Barmil's wife Fomar as possible.
They make their way south along the trade road that leads into northern Belinswae, and it's not too long before they reach a slight bend in the stone road, where a group of clanless dwarves are standing.
Recognising the two leaders of the group of about twenty clanless dwarven warriors traveling with their war party, Baedin Kraelin says to the two of them "He about?".
"Aye chief Baedin" replies Marl "Just around the bend like" adds Lommy "He's around the bend alright" mutters old Tharlo behind the dwarven clan chief.
The dwarven hammermaster sourly smiles, though he's in agreement with what the old warrior just muttered. Then he leads the way around the bend in the cutting that goes through the side of a hill, before the road continues on along some open ground.
Baedin Kraelin stops, then rolls his eyes at what he sees, there's a dozen or so dead justifier's guards scattered across the road about thirty yards infront of where he's stopped.
While standing off to the side of the road, is the tall figure of a large human, in a full suit of shining plate armour, who has a snowy white cape attached to it, a cape that's billowing in the wind behind him.
"Ah there you are my fine short fellow, i wondered where you had got yourself to" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic in his overly loud voice in the common language when he turns around and sees the chieftain of clan Kraelin on the road.
"Fucking madman" utters Baedin Kraelin in the dwarven language, who then switches to common, and says "Percy" by way of greeting, then the dwarven hammermaster says "I see you've been" he pauses then adds "Busy".
"Ha! Nothing to it old chap" says the boisterous knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, who then with the point of one of his steel boots, nudges the body of the justifier's guard closest to him, who is not dead, but unconscious.
"I've even got you a prisoner this time, an officer too by the looks of things" says the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic in the Southlands, Baedin Kraelin blinks in surprise, then genuinely smiles, as it's been near impossible to find an officer amongst the survivors of justifier Marsille's army.
Well I'll be, he's finally done something of worth instead of just killing them all like he usually does, the clan chieftain thinks to himself . . . . . .

You Want A War? You've Got One! 26.

The Stone Hills/Northern Belinswae. Winter...

Mira Reinholt the mage is sitting back against a tree, trying to keep out of the wind as he takes a nap. The once powerful mage didn't get much sleep during the night, as he was busy attacking the enemy forces of the justifiers of Belinswae.
The Vexilian mage in exile gets some much deserved rest, until mid morning, when he's woken up by the dwarven warrior Ompal.
"Spotted more of them have we?" asks a yawning Mira Reinholt the mage "Aye mage, that too" says the warrior Ompal who co-commands the war party that the Vexilian mage in exile leads.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster lifts a questioning eyebrow, and Ompal who crouches down beside him, says "The swordmaster and his party are coming back".
The mage from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, nods his head in understanding. Varl the swordmaster and his larger force is coming back from attacking the enemy earlier in the morning. They must of been successful to be coming back so soon.
One of the warriors by the camp fire brings over some bread and a wedge of cheese for the human spellcaster, who thanks him for it. And before the mage Reinholt starts eating, he quietly tells Ompal "They're in even more disarray than we thought" he then adds "Even with their superior numbers, we're giving them a good thrashing with every encounter we've had with them".
"Aye ain't that the truth lad" says Ompal as the once powerful mage starts eating his morning meal.
Ever since Mira Reinholt killed the two justifiers, the mage Kalsane, and the sorceress Paelau in the town of Navigrel in northern Belinswae, here near the coast. Their armies have been at a lost at what to do.
Some of the remaining officers have taken charge, but most of the commanders, especially in justifier Paelau's army. Were killed by the mage from south of the equator when he killed the two justifiers.
Now the two armies are disjointed, and spread out over northern Belinswae near the coast. And into the southern area of the Stone Hills that's part of the Galve clanhold.
They would be more successful if they joined together to attack the dwarven Galve clan. But they suffer the fate of all the justifiers armies. They're completely separate, unwilling to co-operate, as justifiers seldom work so closely together. They may have the same goals, like this war here in the Stone Hills. And their raids into the Nomad's Plains. But they rarely, if ever actually do such things closely together.
A hedge wizard in the army of justifier Kalsane tried to bring the two armies together, so that they would be a combined fighting force.
And the fact he saw the chance that he could be the next justifier in Belinswae if he had a combined army, and made headway into the Galve clanhold.
Unfortunately for him he was blown up five days ago by the mage Reinholt, when the war party led by both the Vexilian mage in exile, and the warrior Ompal. Attacked a force from the army that was once commanded by the mage Kalsane.
The hedge wizard* had no chance against a mageglobe created by Mira Reinholt. The spellcaster from the Southlands might not be as powerful as he once was. His living pieces of magic still pack a powerful punch, that can easily take care of a weak spellcaster such as a hedge wizard.
After eating, then taking a piss behind a nearby tree, the mage Reinholt asks Ompal "They coming in from the southwest?".
"Aye" replies the co-leader of the war party, who continues with "They were on the coast itself, seems some of the bastard guards were waiting for a ship from down south" Ompal then adds "Varl and the lads with him must of got them by surprise".
"Let's hope so" murmurs the highly skilled swordmaster, who then nods his head when Ompal quietly tells him "I'll give the order to break camp".
The exiled Vexilian mage knows that the only reason they've stayed here in this spot in the small forest, is because the dwarves have given him time to sleep.
They've learnt that he needs to rest to regain his magical power that he uses throughout the day. Or in this case during the night. Their own delvers don't talk about such things. So it came as a bit of a surprise to Ompal and the rest of the war party. That spellcasters need to rest to recuperate their power. And it's not an unlimited source at their disposal.
Though it was never always like this for Mira Reinholt, as he was like all mages, had almost unlimited magical power to use.
And he as the most powerful mage of his generation to be found in the Southlands. Had so much power at his disposal, he didn't have to bother recuperating it. The power was always there, and always on, so to speak.
The highly skilled swordmaster splashes water from a bucket over his face and head, enjoying it in the cold mid morning wind. Then he gathers his pack, as the camp is quickly broken down, and they're soon on the move. Heading south and west, in the direction of the coast, which isn't all that far away from the small forest, a dell really, that they camped in.
There's just over thirty of them in the war party, and with a couple of scouts out in front, and a pair roving behind the main group. It's not long before they run into something. Or more accurately, something runs into them.
"War party from the north" says one of the scouts who has been following them, he's slightly out of breath as he adds "Led by Tarong and old Kalend" the scout looks at the Southlander, and tells him "Mage, the brother is with them".
The once powerful mage nods his head, as he knows the dwarves refer to Shur Kee the monk, as brother, or brother Shur Kee.
"How many in that war party?" asks Ompal, who glances at Garkil, his second, who makes his way back to where he and the mage Reinholt are talking with the scout.
"I think about fifty from what i saw" says the scout "With our thirty" quietly says Ompal, who continues with "And the nearly a hundred with Varl, that's a pretty sizeable force we've got down here south of the clan's army". "Aye" murmurs the warrior Garkil, who along with Ompal, look up at near six foot tall human in the black, hooded cloak.
Early on, when Mira Reinholt and Shur Kee arrived in the Galve clanhold. The clan chieftain Lomi, and his senior warriors like his second, the swordmaster Varl, his now acting second Warkin, and Ompal and others.
Leant that though the mage from south of the equator is only around thirty years old. He's been in a vast number of battles and wars, ever since he was a teenager.
More so than any of them, even dwarves who have lived two and half centuries or more. For the clans of the Stone Hills, only have skirmishes with their rival clans that they are at war with.
There's been very few battles of late. And now all differences have been put aside, as the Stone Hills has been invaded by the armies of the justifiers of Belinswae.
It's because of this that Mira Reinholt has been put in command of a war party that's been harassing the enemy in southern areas of the Galve clanhold, and the northern part of Belinswae near the coast.
And it's because of this, that the dwarves of this particularly war party, look to what he says and does. For though he and Ompal are co-leaders, it's the decisions of the spellcaster from south of the equator that they follow.
"We'll wait for them" says the Vexilian mage in exile, who wonders why Shur Kee has left the relative safety north of the bay, in the heart of the Galve clanhold. The spellcaster who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster, suspects the acolyte in the order of Bru Li, has a reason for coming down here. Since he hasn't been here, since just after he and the mage Reinholt arrived a few weeks after the start of winter.
Garkil has a glass, and he takes it out of his pack as they wait beside a foresters track that heads towards the coast. Not even a quarter of the sand in the top half has dropped by the time the war party from further north comes upon them.
After they quietly greet the war party led by the old dwarven warrior Kalend, and Tarong, a relatively young dwarf given a position of responsibility in leading war parties. Mira Reinholt nods his hooded head for his traveling companion Shur Kee to follow him. The two humans walk away from the dwarves, and they stop beside a tree, which the swordmaster Reinholt stands back against, and he quietly says "Has something happened?".
"Yes friend Mira, a message" says Shur Kee the monk, who from under his cloak, takes an envelope from a pocket in his robe like top, the envelope is already open, and he hands it to the Southlander from the city-state of Vexil.
The once powerful mage takes a folded piece of parchment out of the envelope, he unfolds it and frowns as he goes to read it. The top half is in a language he doesn't understand, though it's vaguely familiar, as he's seen it a few times before.
"The language of Wah Lee?" asks the mage Reinholt, who in his travels as a younger man, lived in the nation to the south and west of Shur Kee's homeland on the very far east of the continent, basically on the otherside of the world.
"It is indeed" says the physical adept, who continues with "He only wanted us understanding it, incase it fell into the wrong hands" the spellcaster from south of the equator, who is exiled from his homeland Vexil, nods his hooded head as looks down to the bottom half of the piece of parchment.
And he reads what has been written in elven there, the mage Reinholt reads it in silence, then rereads it, before folding the piece of parchment up, and putting it back into the envelope.
"Did you inform chief Lomi?" quietly asks Mira Reinholt "Just the bit he needed to know" is the quiet reply of the acolyte in the order of Bru Li. The once powerful mage nods again, then he sets the envelope and the parchment folded up in it, on fire.
The highly skilled swordmaster drops it on the ground, where it quickly burns away to ashes, then he quietly says to the short statured monk in the conical shaped hat "Well looks like we're going to push further south".
They've been given orders by lord Farque, and the mage Reinholt intends to carry them out. The spellcaster from the Southlands knows it's part of a wider plan the undead warlord has devised against the justifiers of Belinswae.
He didn't go into detail there in the missive to the mage and the monk. But Mira Reinholt suspects the deathlord of Farque has worked something out that will hopefully end up in the defeat of the armies of Belinswae that have invaded the Stone Hills.
He might not of gone into detail of the wider plan. But he did go into detail what he wants the once powerful mage and the monk in the order of Bru Li to do as they head south into northern Belinswae.
"Good thing we're meeting up with Varl and his war party" quietly says the Vexilian mage in exile, who continues in a quiet tone with "We'll need as many warriors as possible as we head quickly south" Shur Kee nods in understanding.
The once powerful mage and the physical adept make their way back to the dwarves, there the highly skilled swordmaster says to Ompal, Garkil, Tarong and old Kalend "We'll meet up with Varl and the others". Mira Reinholt pauses for a moment as he looks around, looking past a knot of trees to the south, then after he glances at Shur Kee, he looks at the dwarves and says "Then we're going south" the spellcaster from south of the equator slightly smiles then adds "We're going to invade Belinswae" . . . . . .

*Authors Note - Someone self taught, and usually underpowered in magic.

You Want A War? You've Got One! 25.

The Stone Hills. Winter...

They leave the watchtower, and cross the bay well before dawn. They reach the south shore of the bay at sunrise. And after they drag the boats up the pebbled beach to the small fishing village, Shur Kee the monk looks west across the water to the open ocean beyond the bay.
The way Dalinvardél Tanith went last week onboard the smuggler's ship that was heading back south.
The short statured monk who is a believer in the path of the Jade Warrior Bru Li, knows that the elven spy will be back in the city of Falnic by now. Causing the justifiers all sorts of trouble as Belinswae continue it's war against the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills.
The physical adept in the order of Bru Liu and the war party he's with sets off south towards northern Belinswae. As they do Shur Kee asks the dwarven warrior Tarong who is in command "Friend Tarong how do we know when we have left the Stone Hills, and are then in Belinswae?".
"If it still be hilly and rocky, we still be home in The Hills" says Tarong who speaks with a thick accent, the dwarven warrior continues with "If not, then we be in Belinswae". "Makes sense i guess" murmurs the monk in the conical shaped hat, which he holds with a gloved hand as the wind gusts in from the Great Western Ocean that isn't all that far away.
They walk through the morning, heading inland as they travel south. The acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li is glad that the hills, though barren and rocky, are much more gentler and rolling here in the very west of the Stone Hills, compared to how it is further to the east.
They stop for lunch at an abandoned farmhouse on the southern outskirts of the Galve clanhold. Shur Kee is glad for the break, though the cold meal of diced cooked potato and spicy sausage the war party has, is a bit strong tasting for him.
And the fact that he has the cold water in his skin to drink. As the warriors broach one of the barrels of strong, dark ale they've brought with them. Each having a mug full with their quick meal that was cooked last night.
They set off again, and again Shur Kee has to keep up with the dwarves. Who with their strong constitution, and natural stamina. Can march throughout an entire day with ease and little rest.
The monk from the far eastern coast of the continent, who though shorter than average for a human, which is about average height if he was from Belinswae. Is glad to have longer legs, and a longer stride than the dwarves, as that's the only reason he doesn't fall behind the rest of the war party.
As they head south, the wind starts to drop off, though still windy, it's no where near as blustery as it is back on the bay, on the north shore of which, is the way to the clan Galve mountainhold.
And in the middle of the afternoon, as they top a hill, and the wind is now just a strong breeze, and the sky more cloudy than it is further north. The dwarven warrior Tarong briefly stops and points to the south and says to Shur Kee "Not the Stone Hills".
The physical adept nods as he looks in the distance, where maybe six or seven miles away, the hills drop away, the ground becomes greener and flatter, and there's a lot more trees about.
Belinswae, the monk thinks to himself as they get underway again, the acolyte in the order of Bru Li, glances up at the sky, and does his winter cloak up a little tighter. It looks like it could rain later on.
It does, and it's heavy too, and the war party stops in a copse in a small valley nestled between some hills.
The trees here aren't as scrubby and scraggly as they are further to the north in the Stone Hills. And there's more of them the further south they go, the closer they get to Belinswae.
When the rain lightens, they leave the shelter of the copse, and continue on their way. They trudge through the sodden ground. Though it isn't muddy since they're still in the Stone Hills, where much of the terrain is rocky.
As they make their way around a hill on what looks like a trail used by sheep or goats. They're met by a pair of dwarves who have been waiting for them. It's not far to their destination. A small village, the southern most one in the clanhold.
And where the bulk of the clan Galve army is based at the moment.
It's late afternoon when they reach the village, the village may only have half a dozen houses, and a lone storage shed. There's more than fifty tents up, in and around them. As more than three hundred warriors, and those that support them, such as armourers, smiths, healers and the like. Are based here, as they continue to defend their clanhold against the armies of the justifiers of Belinswae.
As the war party of about thirty warriors go to set up the tents that they've brought with them, Shur Kee and Tarong are led to one of the houses.
They enter, and find a handful of dwarves inside, one of whom, sitting at the table in the main room, is slicing up a cold spicy sausage, and eating the slices, it's the clan chieftain Lomi Galve.
Shur Kee stands to one side as Tarong reports to his clan chief, and after the two of them talk in dwarven, the clan chieftain gestures to the short statured monk to take a seat at the table. The physical adept has to sit on the low bench slightly sideways so that his legs don't hit the table.
Shur Kee who is glad for the warmth from the small fire burning in the fire place, slightly grins and says "Thank you chief Lomi" when the clan chieftain Lomi Galve says "Here you go brother, i know you not be liking our black ale, so here be some cider that the free folk brew" and he pours from a pewter jug, a mug of warm cider for the acolyte in the order of Bru Li.
"Truth be told, I'm quite fond of it too" says the chieftain of clan Galve who continues with "Especially warmed up like this" as he pours himself a mug too.
Lomi Galve then goes onto explain what's been happening recently. Shur Kee as he sips the warm cider, listens in silence to the clan chief.
After the clan chieftain explains what's been happening, Shur Kee the monk says "So friend Varl is off to find the war party that friend Mira is with?". "Aye" says the Galve clan chief, who continues with "They be in northern Belinswae somewhere harassing the enemy" Lomi Galve then adds "It shouldn't be to hard to find your mage friend, brother" he then says in a dry tone "He tends to blow things up so it's kind of easy like to know where he's been".
The few other dwarves in the main room of the house, as well as Tarong, who is now sitting on the floor near the fire drinking from a mug of dark ale, chuckle at that. As does Shur Kee, for he more than any of them, knows how Mira Reinholt the mage can get at times.
The acolyte in the order of Bru Li slightly shakes his head, and wonders what the dwarven warriors of the Galve clan would make of the mage Reinholt when he was at the height of his powers.
When he would blow up castles, towns, and entire sections of cities, without much effort, and not caring about who would get caught up in the destruction he would wrought.
They would be much surprised, and over awed at how truly destructive he once was, Shur Kee thinks to himself.
Who then looks at the dwarven clan chieftain, who tells him "I'm sending a war party off early tomorrow to join up with swordmaster Varl" Lomi Galve continues with "You're more than welcome to go with them brother if you want to be joining up with the mage again" he nods over at Tarong and says "Tarong could be going with you if you like, that's if he wants to".
"Aye, i mean yes, that would be good" says the short, for a human that is, monk "That's settled then, before dawn you'll be off" says Lomi Galve, who then says to one of the other dwarves, a young warrior "Marldèn show the brother to the place across the way there" the clan chieftain gestures to the right of the house they're in "They got a bit more room in there, he can stay in there for the night".
After Shur Kee drinks his warm cider, and he thanks the clan chief for it, and his hospitality. The physical adept follows the young warrior Marldèn out the door, and they head to the next house to the right.
After the door closes behind the monk and young Marldèn, there's a stretch of silence within the room, which is eventually broken by Warkin, the clan chief's acting second "He's an odd one for sure the brother is".
"Aye" is the chorus of murmurs from the others in the room, except for Lomi Galve who just slightly nods his head. "Strange prayers and sayings he got, even for a human" says old Kalend, who taught the clan chief the axe and hammer when Lomi was a youngster, the old warrior continues with "Don't think i ever seen any of the free folk like him, or any of them fuckers from down in Belinswae too".
"Aye" is the quiet murmurs from others in the room, apart from their clan chieftain who remains silent.
Lomi Galve looks over at Tarong sitting on the floor, who says to him "Why was he sent to us along with the mage?" he continues with "I like the brother even with his odd ways, but he doesn't exactly do much" he pauses for a moment, then adds "Though i hear he does help out the healers and surgeons when the wounded come back to the mountainhold".
The others in the room look at their silent clan chieftain to see what he says, Lomi Galve is still silent for a few more moments, then he eventually says "When the two of them first came here, they went off to see what the approaching justifiers armies were up to" he then adds "You know, when they went with a small war party led by Varl".
"Aye chief, we remember" says old Kalend who has long white hair, to match his long white beard "Well you heard that they ran into a large squad of justifier's guards, part of their exploratory force" says the clan chief, who continues with "And the war party had to fight like hell to get away, and they only did because that mage blew up most of those mounted guards who were after them".
There's head nods all around from the dwarves in the room "What you didn't hear, is that Varl almost died in that skirmish" says Lomi Galve, who then adds "If fact he basically did" the clan chief points at the door the monk went out a little while ago, and says "The young brother saved him, brought him back to life the lads who survived the attack say".
The dwarven warriors are all silent as they look at their chieftain, who after a few moments says "Aye he's not" in response to Tarong quietly saying "He not be a magic user or one of them human clerics, the delver Belkig says he's not".
Lomi Galve nods his head, then says "The mage basically admitted it to me, told me that the brother brought Varl back from the death's front door, even though Shur Kee be not a caster of spells" he continues with "That Mira said that the brother has some unique abilities, and that as powerful as Shur Kee can heal, he's equally as destructive in combat when he chooses to be".
The three other dwarves in the room, the acting second Warkin, the old warrior Kalend, and Tarong all look at one another, before they look back at their clan chieftain who is sitting at the table.
Lomi Galve who has just poured himself another mug of cider, which is lukewarm now, lifts a eyebrow and quietly says "Strange indeed".
There's a few moments of silence, then after Tarong puts a log on the fire, the dwarven warrior who arrived here this afternoon quietly says "I think I'll be going along with the brother tomorrow".
Old Kalend then says to his clan chieftain "You be needing me for the next little while lad?" Lomi Galve faintly smiles, for no matter how old he is, and the fact that he's chieftain, his old teacher will always call him lad.
"If not, then I'll be going off with Tarong and the others, along with brother Shur Kee" adds the old dwarven warrior, the Galve clan chief nods and tells old Kalend "Aye you're free to go".
"I'd go to, if i wasn't needed elsewhere" says Warkin, the acting second to his chieftain, pauses for a moment, before continuing with "Just to see what the mysterious brother gets up to in a scrap".
Lomi Galve after drinking some of the cider in his mug, nods his head, then quietly says "Aye, me too" as he like the other three here with him in the house wouldn't mind finding out what the human monk, who they call brother, actually does during combat against the enemy . . . . . .

You Want A War? You've Got One! 24.

The Stone Hills. Winter...

Helbe the elven thief looks over at the dwarven warriors Thane Kraelin, and Karne aka The Axe Thrower. And finds both of them looking at him with questioning looks upon their bearded faces.
The young even noble from the principality of Laerel in the Southlands, just shrugs his shoulders in response. Then he turns and looks away to the southeast.
It's a clear, though windy day, which is no surprise in the Stone Hills. And they're next to a mountain lake, about nine thousand feet up on the large, flat peak of a mountain, in an area between the Mard clanhold, and the Omban clanhold.
It's one of the taller peaks towards the south of the Stone Hills. It stands sentry over the smaller foothills in this area of the rocky mountain range.
The elven masterthief is with a war party of about fifty dwarven warriors, mostly from clan Kraelin, and a handful of scouts from clan Mard.
Prince Helbenthril Raendril scuffs at the snow covered ground, then senses as he looks across the clear blue waters of the lake they're next too. The elven master assassin sees nothing of interest. Certainly nothing that they're interested in seeing.
The elven princeling from the Southlands slightly turns as both Thane Kraelin and Karne the Axe Thrower come over and stand beside him.
"Nothing yet" says Helbe the elven thief in response to Thane Kraelin asking him "Anything your highness?". It's not the first time the nephew of the clan chieftain Baedin Kraelin has asked him that this morning since they broke camp, which was down beside the lake forty yards from where they're now standing.
"Mayhap he's in trouble like?" quietly says the younger of the two dwarven warriors, the older of the two beside him, nods his head in agreement with the nephew of his clan chieftain.
"I rather doubt it" dryly says the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, who then silently adds, if he is, then we're basically fucked. As if he was in trouble, then the lot of them would have no chance in dealing with whatever it is that's caused him trouble.
Thinking about it, the young elven noble asks the two dwarves "Any creatures here in the Stone Hills i should know about?" the Southlander adds "Well apart from the obvious".
"There be some trolls about, them that don't head down to the port cities like Falnic to work in the shipyards" says Thane Kraelin, who then adds "But you already know that" he continues with "There be some giants scattered throughout the mountains, but ye hardly see them".
"Aye good thing that you don't" says Karne the Axe Thrower, who then adds "Mean buggers they be for sure" the older dwarven warrior then mutters "Bloody near impossible to kill too".
"Then there's talk of a dragon" says the nephew of clan Kraelin's chief, who continues with "But there's always talk of one". Beside him Axe Thrower nods his head, and says "Been hearing about it all my life, canny not say i ever seen it" he continues with "My da said he saw it, but my da liked to drink, and talk a lot of shit, so who knows if he saw it or not".
"Probably not" dryly murmurs Thane Kraelin, who then tells the elven princeling from south of the equator "It apparently flies between here in the Stone Hills, and in our ancestral mountains, spending time in both ranges".
"Maladimbáh?" says Helbe the elven thief who knows the dwarves of the Stone Hills are originally from the elven principality of Maladimbáh. They were driven out of there after a defeat in a war against the elves in the principality.
"Aye highness" says Thane Kraelin who continues with "It crosses the plains of the nomads, and spends time either here or in Maladimbáh" as he looks across the mountain lake, he adds "Well that's what the legends say about it".
"Black dragon?" asks the elven magic user, who continues with "A big bugger of a thing too?". The two dwarves from clan Kraelin share a look, then Thane Kraelin says "Aye that's what the old tales and legends say". "And that's what my old da said it looked like" adds Karne the Axe Thrower who continues with "Big bloody brute, dark as night, even when he saw it on a clear summer's day".
"Your legends are true" says the elven princeling, who slightly nods his hooded head at Axe Thrower and adds "And so was your father" the elven masterthief continues with "That dragon was in Maladimbáh". Helbenthril Raendril looks at the two of them, and tells them "You don't have to worry about it" he then adds "It was killed just this past summer".
"How?" asks Axe Thrower at the same time as his clan chief's nephew asks "You certain?" as they look at the elven master archer in surprise.
"Yes I'm certain" says the grandson of Prince Raendril as he answers Thane Kraelin's question, then he answers Karne's with "You wouldn't believe me if i told you" in a dry tone of voice.
Knowing it would be a difficult explaining to the two of them, that the dragon in question was killed by lord Farque and an army of undead elves and dwarves. Dwarven warriors who most likely could be their ancestors.
The young elven noble dryly says to them "It tried eating something that disagreed with it". Which is true enough, as the undead warlord was in the mouth of the dragon when he killed it.
Helbe the elven thief then says "You know that sword the mage Reinholt carries?" he continues with "Not that double bladed staff looking one he has strapped to his back, but the other one he wears on his hip, the one with the black blade?".
"Aye" says Thane Kraelin who recalls seeing the weapon in question before Mira Reinholt left and headed west to the coast, and the clanhold of the Galve clan "What about it?" asks the nephew of Baedin Kraelin.
"That was blackened by that dragon" says the elven princeling who continues with "Now that blade is basically indestructible". Both dwarves eyebrows lift up in surprise at that, then the two of them slowly nod.
The elven magic user gestures away to the southeast, the way, not just they're looking, but most of the war party are looking too. "And he's definitely not in trouble" says prince Helbenthril Raendril, who then silently adds, though where the hell he is, is another thing entirely different.
They continue to wait throughout the morning, with more than a few of the dwarven warriors in the war party looking nervously to the southeast, and at the elven princeling from south of the equator.
The elven masterthief who is just thinking about heading away down the mountain, and going to the southeast. Even though he's been told to specifically stay with the war party.
Lifts an eyebrow when Narladene the ground pixie suddenly shows up, and stands upon his right shoulder. The young elven noble wanders down to the lake, quietly murmuring in the elven language "What is it?".
"He's coming back" answers Narladene the ground pixie in a whisper, the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel looks away to the southeast and slightly frowns, he looks quickly around in all directions, and murmurs "Where?".
The tiny winged creature doesn't reply, she just grins as his royal highness, prince Helbenthril Raendril glances sideways at her.
A few moments later and a wyvern shoots up over the eastern lip of the lake, and circles above the top of the mountain. It's followed by a second, a third, and finally a fourth. There's no one on the backs of the following wyverns, which are tame as they all have the long saddles that those from Belinswae are equipped with.
But there is a figure in the saddle of the lead wyvern. It's a large, familiar figure in a full suit of dark, heavy plate armour.
The elven magic user grins as he watches lord Farque on the back of the wyvern, that's dropping down to the side of the lake that he and the dwarven warriors are waiting by. The dwarven warriors who are all yelling and cheering at the appearance of the undead warlord and the wyverns.
The wyvern the deathlord of Farque is on lands, and he hops off it, calling out something in a language not known by any of the war party, to the circling wyverns above. Who come down and land near the one he was on.
"Difficult?" asks Helbe the elven thief after he's made his way over to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque "Not really" says lord Farque, who continues with "They don't mind flying in this strong of a wind" he gestures at the wyverns as he says that, then he adds "But the guards who fly them aren't particularly fond of going up in the high winds, so it was pretty fucking easy to take them".
As one of the raucous wyverns shoves another into the freezing water of the lake, and they end up in a bit of scrap, clawing and jawing at one another, until lord Farque yells something at them in the dragon language. Which shuts down their violent play immediately.
The dwarven warriors Thane Kraelin and Karne the Axe Thrower join the two Southlanders.
"How well are you flying wyverns?" asks the heavily armoured deathlord who has switched to the common language for the benefit of the two clan Kraelin dwarves "Not particularly good" says the elven princeling from Laerel in the same language, who then adds "Only done it couple of times, and then i never felt i ever really had any control over them".
"They're wyverns, even tame one's like these aren't exactly responsive to their riders, even those who train them" says the undead being who is also known as Draugadrottin by the people of his lands, the deathlord of Farque continues with "Don't worry, this lot will do exactly what i tell them to".
That's because you can command them in dragon, Helbe the elven thief dryly thinks to himself, the young elven noble has never cared that much for wyverns. They're raucous, fractious, and troublesome. Always squabbling amongst themselves. And the fact they're slower, smaller, and less agile than a griffon, not to mention no where near as good as a griffon in combat. The griffon being the elven nobility's flying stead.
"I guess I'm flying one, and you are too" says the young elven noble to the heavily armoured deathlord, who nods his full helmed head in response to that "So who's flying the other two?" asks the elven masterthief who refrains from grinning as he already knows the answer, as he and the undead warlord discussed it before Draugadrottin went off to get the wyverns.
"You two are" says lord Farque as he looks at the two dwarves from clan Kraelin, both of whose jaws drop open in surprise. Then Thane Kraelin gulps, while Karne aka the Axe Thrower looks a little pale, and not because of the cold wind that's blowing across the top of the mountain.
"You'll be fine" says deathlord of Farque who then adds "They'll probably try and shake you off after they lift off, but that's what the straps on the saddles are for". Axe Thrower looks a little green now, as if he's going to faint. While Thane Kraelin is breathing noticeable heavier, through his mouth, through clenched teeth.
Turning to the waiting war party, lord Farque calls out in dwarven"We're leaving" as he gestures at the four wyverns, then he adds "Pack your stuff, and let's get going".
They get onto the wyverns, some of the warriors a bit more reluctant to get up into the saddles than others. And only do so when their fellow dwarven warriors jeer at them and belittle them in unflattering terms.
Usually eight to ten justifier's guards along with the lead rider, ride upon the backs of the large winged creatures. So the entire war party of nearly fifty dwarves can easily be flown by the four wyverns lord Farque has stolen from a justifier's army.
With the undead warlord lead rider on one wyvern, and prince Helbenthril Raendril on another. While Thane Kraelin is the third, and a sick looking Karne is the fourth lead rider. The wyverns lift off from beside the lake on top of the mountain.
The wyvern the nephew of the Kraelin clan chief is on immediately spins in attempt to throw off the dwarves on it's back. The warriors all scream and yell, but remain in the saddle, thanks to the straps holding them in, and them all clinging onto one another. That particular wyvern settles down after the lord and ruler of the lands Farque yells something at it in the dragon language.
Helbe the elven thief shakes his hooded head at the slightly jerky flight of the wyvern he's on. Even when he pulls back on the reins to bring it's head up. The flight of the dark green wyvern he's on is no where near as smooth as flying on the back of a griffon.
Hell, by the forest gods, these are tame one's too! the elven princeling thinks to himself, who can't imagine what it would be like to fly on a wild wyvern, which are found in southern Belinswae, the Nomads Plains, and just east of the dry, arid plains where the nomad tribes live.
The elven magic user looks over to his left when Narladene the ground pixie points that way. He sees the wyvern lord Farque is on, come alongside the one he's lead rider on.
The undead warlord gestures away to the east and north, where in the distance a mountain stands by itself, Išorkam Uñd the dwarves call it.
As hears one of the warriors behind him throw up, Helbenthril Raendril nods his head in understanding to the heavily armoured deathlord. They're heading to the Omban clanhold, where Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera are with a war party, who are helping the Omban clan who are under attack from a large justifier's army . . . . . .

You Want A War? You've Got One! 23.

The Stone Hills. Winter...

The morning is windy, more so than it has been recently. And the snow along the track whips up and swirls around the legs of the horses. With flakes coming up to hit the riders in their faces if they haven't covered them.
One of the lead riders points ahead to where one of the scouts is at the top of a rise, at the narrow mouth of a canyon. Those in the line following, look up at the sheer cliffs on either side of the track up at the top of the rise.
One of the lead riders has a word with the scout, who is pointing out something up ahead. The lead rider nods and waits for the others to crest the top of the rise. While the scout rides ahead into the canyon.
"What is it?" asks the officer in command of the formation "The scouts have spotted someone up ahead sir" says the lead rider "A dwarf?" asks the officer, who is in command of nearly a hundred and forty guards this morning. Hardly any of them pressed guards, which he's eternally grateful for.
"No sir" says the lead rider who continues with "Looks to be a human" the officer nods as one of his sub officers behind him says "Probably one of ours, by the gods we've found plenty enough of them over the last two days".
Ever since the attack against their army a few mornings ago, guards, support guards, and camp followers have been found throughout the nearby hills and mountains. As many of them fled in all directions by the early morning attack by the dwarven warriors whose clanhold they've invaded.
"Most likely" says the officer in command, an experienced guard, a man in his early thirties, from the city of Falnic "Onwards then" adds the officer in command.
The lead rider nods and enters the canyon, the rest of the force follow him, as they ride two abreast along the wagon track, that winds it's way around hills and mountains, roughly heading north into the clanhold.
Within the canyon, the sheer cliffs slightly tamper the strong wind. It's no longer blowing from all directions. Now it's gusting into their faces from the north, against the norm, as the wind throughout the Stone Hills, is predominantly from the south, and in particular the southwest.
As the commanding officer wipes snow off his face, and rewraps a dark red scarf around the lower half of his face. He sees the lead rider point ahead. There the officer in command spots the scout the lead rider spoke to. He's with another scout about seventy yards ahead of the column in a fairly straight stretch of the track.
They reach the two scouts who are just to the side of the track, and one of them says to the commanding officer "Just around the corner sir" followed by "On foot, heading this way".
The officer in command nods, and says "Let's go and have a look" they ride forward, and where the canyon narrows, and turns to the left, the commanding officer throws up a gloved hand for the following column of justifier's guards to halt.
After the narrow stretch of the canyon, it starts to widen out again. And the commanding officer who waves away snow in front of his face that's been blown up from the ground.
Looks up, and is once again able to see the mountain a few miles away to the east and north, that the prisoners they've caught, call the Lonely One. The officer in command then looks back down along the wagon track as it goes through the canyon infront of them, and he spots a figure in the distance making their way in this direction.
"Definitely not dwarven" quietly says the commanding officer who continues with "Too tall". The figure is in a dark cloak, and is limping. Staggering at times as they walk along the wagon track that's got a covering of snow across it, even here within the high walls of the canyon.
"Not our colours" says the scout, who continues with "Could be one of the mercenaries" the scout points and adds "There's a sword sticking out from under his cloak, bet he's wearing armour too".
When the person gets closer, they see he's got a bloody linen cloth wrapped around his head, covering part of his face. They also see he's quite young, maybe only thirteen years old, though he's tall for someone from Belinswae.
"One of the mercenaries, definitely not a pot boy, or horse hand" says the sub officer behind the commanding officer, he then adds "Could be a squire to one of the those knights".
The officer in command nods his head in agreement. For he knows that even the squires to those small number of knights in their army. Are as good in combat than most of the experienced guards, no matter how young they are.
"Any of you recognise him?" asks the commanding officer "Can't tell with that bandage across his face" says the lead rider, the two scouts nod in agreement with that, and with the lead rider saying "Most likely one of the knights squire's, they're all tall and big, and that youngster there is already taller than most of us".
The officer in command agrees with that assessment, for a few of the knights in the justifier's army they serve in are six foot tall, and taller. Much taller and bigger than most if not all of the guards and officers. As people from the region of Belinswae tend to be average height to short.
They see the figure on the track ahead of them, look up as he's been looking down as he walks. He blinks in surprise, then he lifts a gloved hand in greeting, and goes to rush forward. He staggers a few steps and stumbles forward, and falls to his knees.
"Go and help him" orders the officer in command, the lead rider and one of the scouts dismount, and move forward to help the wounded youngster who is trying to get up off the snowy ground.
"Someone's over acting" dryly murmurs Lisell Maera as she looks down into the canyon. "Think the lad is doing a stellar job" murmurs Jarka Mard as he lies beside the teenage orphan from the city-state of Brattonbury in the Southlands "Wonder where he learnt to act like that?" adds the youngest son of the chieftain of clan Mard.
You definitely don't want to know, Lis thinks to herself in a dry tone, for she knows the dwarven warrior wouldn't like the answer. For Tamric Drubine has learnt how to act and deceive from being around Dorc da Orc. An ork, who like all orks, are the eternal enemies of the dwarven race.
Not that the dwarves of the Stone Hills actually think that orks are real. As they see their mortal enemies as legends from a far off icey wasteland at the bottom of the world.
Lis knows that they would be shocked to know that there's actually an ork only a couple hundred miles away or so to the south in Belinswae.
An ork, who for good reason, is being kept away from the war that's happening here in the Stone Hills.
"They've got the lad" murmurs Jarka Mard as they watch two of the justifier's guards, help Tamric Drubine up, and hold him up as they walk him to those at the front of the column that's stopped down in the canyon.
Lis and Jarka look over to the opposite side of the canyon from them. Where up a snow covered peak, they see a small number of the war party, also watching what's happening down below. While most of the others, are over here on this small mountain that they're that the two of them are on.
"By those gods of yours, i hope this works" the Southlander murmurs to the dwarven warrior from clan Mard beside her "Aye so do i" murmurs Jarka Mard who continues with "Even if it dunny not work, it'll still work if you take my meaning" he pauses for a moment, before he adds in a slightly dry murmur "Just that the lads over their would of blown themselves up good and proper if that happens".
"What's your name son?" asks the commanding officer, the youngster murmurs something and points back the way he's come and says through chattering teeth "Others" he then adds "Guards" he stands there shivering as he continues with "Dwarves too".
"He's freezing" says the scout who is helping the youngster to stand, the lead rider nods in agreement "Get him on a horse, he can ride with someone" says the officer in command.
A horse blanket is wrapped around the shoulders of the youngster, who after the scout asks him "How's that head off yours?" and he replies with "It's just a scratch" he's helped up onto a horse, up behind one of the other lead riders.
"He's freezing alright" says the guard who now has someone sitting behind him, holding onto him, the officer in command nods as he looks at the wounded youngster, and he asks him "Where you from son?".
"South" replies Tamric Drubine, which is true enough, then quickly remembering something from his time in the city of Falnic, he adds "Been staying at the Shining Sword chapter house in Falnic since my lord and i traveled north".
"A few of them in the army" quietly says the sub officer, who nods at the shaking youngster, and adds "Couple of the knights are unaccounted for since the attack the other morning".
The officer in command nods in agreement, he's of the opinion that the knights aren't exactly lost. The predawn attack the other day was just an excuse for them to go ahead of the army to attack the enemy on their own.
"How many of the guards are up ahead squire?" asks the commanding officer "Half a dozen sir" says the youngster, who then adds "They were wondering around the hills lost" he pauses as he shivers for a moment, then he says "Couple of them are wounded".
"We better get them then" says the officer in command, who then nods for the scouts to move ahead, then he raises a gloved hand, and waves the rest of the column forward.
As they get underway, the commanding officer asks the young squire "And the dwarves?" the youngster, replies with "We spotted a small war party of them just north of this canyon yesterday afternoon" he then adds "My lord went to draw them off, so i could head south and find the army".
"Draw them off, more like fight them" is what the commanding officer hears the sub officer riding behind him dryly say, the officer in charge slightly nods, as the hired knights tend to attack the enemy without provocation. Who tend not to take prisoners, which the justifier whose army they serve in, wants. As he wants as much information about them and their clanhold as possible.
As they ride through the canyon, the officer in command asks the squire from the order of the Shining Sword a few more questions, then he turns and tells his sub officer "Send a messenger back to tell them what we've found" he looks up into the fairly clear sky, and adds "And tell them to send a damn wyvern up here to us, it's clear enough this morning for them to fly".
"The riders are probably moaning and bitching again that it's too windy for them" dryly says the sub officer, the commanding officer sourly smiles as he nods in agreement "Too windy for them, but not the wyverns" says the officer in command, the sub officer nods in agreement, then turns and orders a guard back to the main force of the army, to tell them what's happening.
After the messenger heads back south through the canyon, the commanding officer is just about to ask the hired squire something, when the youngster, who isn't shaking and shivering so much now, says "What's that up there?" he nods up at the sheer cliff wall to the right.
One of the scouts has spotted it too, and he says "Movement" followed by "Lookouts for the enemy no doubt". "Well they know we're here now" quietly says the officer in command, who then orders "Right pick up the pace" they start moving at a trot, instead of the walk they were previously traveling at.
As the guard whose horse he's on looks up again towards the sheer canyon wall to the right, Tamric Drubine takes his dagger from beneath his cloak, leans into the back of the guard, wraps his right arm around him, and quickly runs the dagger across his throat.
As the justifier's guard clutches at the fatal wound, Tam shoves him out of the saddle, the guard hits the snowy ground as blood squirts from between his fingers. The nobleborn youngster from the kingdom of Sarcrin in the Southlands puts his heels into the side of the horse, which takes off at a run.
Moving forward, and ducking low in the saddle, as he hears the shouts of exclamation from behind him. Tamric Drubine winces and hopes he doesn't get an arrow or a bolt in his back for his troubles.
Then he winces again as he hears a thud, followed by a second, a third and a fourth from up above to the right, the thuds echo down through the canyon. Then he hears the shouts from the justifier's guards behind him who are looking up, and are seeing what's happening.
Tam urges the horse for more speed as he rides low to it's neck, he doesn't bother looking up to see what's happening, he has a fair idea what's exactly happening. And besides he can actually hear it.
Four small barrels of blast powder have been lit, causing an avalanche. And a wave of snow has come down the peak to the east, seeding snow, ice and rocks, tumbling down into the near two hundred foot deep canyon.
A couple of the dwarven warriors who were amongst those who lit the fuses to the blast powder kegs, were too slow to get away. And they too tumble down the side of the mountain, and fall to their deaths in the canyon.
The losses from the dwarven war party led by Tamric Drubine are small compared to the column of justifier's guards in the canyon, who are hit by the avalanche of snow, ice and rocks that rains down on them.
The front half of the column, including those who were chasing after Tam are squarely hit by most of the avalanche that rains down into the canyon. They're crushed by hundreds and hundreds of tons of ice and rock debris.
While those further back are pelted by the falling ice, snow and rocks, many of those not killed back there, are badly injured, or buried in the mountain of snow that's fallen down into the canyon. Very few in the near hundred and forty man column get away with no injuries, or they and their mounts aren't buried in snow.
Tamric Drubine rides through a cloud of snow that's billowing out from behind him, the nobleborn youngster who hopes he doesn't get hit by any flying ice or rocks. Barely rides free of the avalanche that's fallen into the canyon behind him.
Tam eventually brings the horse to a stop, and he looks back through the snow that's like a cloud in the canyon. He waits a while as it settles down, and he sees that the canyon is now blocked, with snow and ice up to twenty five, even thirty feet in places.
The nobleborn youngster who is in charge of the war party of dwarven warriors, from three different clans now. And whose plan it was to attack this column of enemy riders.
Gets underway again, taking off the bandage from around his head, as makes his way to join the others, who he knows are now making their way down off the two peaks that are on either side of the canyon . . . . . .