A Grand Design 4.

Mid Autumn. Salme. Dalmar. Girdane.

"What was that?" asks Lisell Maera the messenger "I'm not sure" replies Tamric Drubine the field commander, who continues with "Wait here, I'll go down and take a look".
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury nods, and the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin makes his way along the street to where a bit of a crowd has gathered to the entrance of the castle.
While Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by the others in the group, remains at the town's airdocks.
The messenger or runner as they're often referred as, looks east across the town of Salme and sees in the morning sky, the approaching airship .
It's coming in from the otherside of the kingdom, to be exact from the capital city Oaklynn.
Lis knows that there'll be a message for them onboard. For the airship is a commercial vessel. A cargo ship belonging to one of the most prominent trading companies in all the Southlands.
It's out of the city-state of Vexil, and belongs to the vast fleet of the Reinholt trading company.
After watching the approaching airship for a while as she stands at the end of one of the piers in dock.
The attractive young woman originally from the city-state of Brattonbury, which lies on the coast of the Southlands.
Looks back along the street that leads to the main gates of the duke's castle, which dominates the town of Salme as it sits upon a hilltop on the north side of town.
And she spots Tamric Drubine heading back along the street in this direction, the nobleborn teen from the kingdom of Sarcrin is hurrying back to the modest sized airdocks.
Once he rejoins Lis at the end of one of the piers, the young field commander in the armies of Farque quietly tells her "That was the duke of Girnath and his retinue riding in".
Then switching to the elven language so that they won't be understood by the others on the pier, Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by others in the group says "Word is he's come to tell duke Hilloc that the rumours of the plague in his duchy are true".
Lis, who along with the rest of the group with them, have been back here in Salme for a week now, nods her head.
Then the attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, whose mother was a street prostitute, and whose father, who she never knew, was a sailor.
Quietly says in the elven language "This should be interesting" the messenger in the armies of Farque continues with "This might prompt the duke into action".
"Into hiring us?" quietly asks the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, a castle found in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
"Hopefully" says Lisell Maera as the two of them watch the airship approaching from the east "Because he hasn't exactly been pleased with progress" adds the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury.
The young field commander slightly winces at that assessment from Lis concerning lord Farque. She's right though, as the undead warlord is displeased that they've yet to be hired by duke Hilloc of Dalmar.
They watch the airship in the Reinholt trading company out of Vexil, that's just flown in from the city of Oaklynn, the capital of Girdane.
Make it's way over the town of Salme, then come into the airdocks just off to the east side of the duke's castle.
The large transporter takes up most of the pier, and as the vessel is moored. The ship's captain, who is expecting someone to be waiting here for him, and the missives he has.
And has been given the descriptions of those most likely to be waiting for him.
Hands the leather satchel over to Lis once he disembarks with some of his officers.
Lis thanks the ship's captain, then along with Tam, they make their way off the pier, and head to the Wayfarer, the inn that they and the rest of the group here in Salme are staying at.
With trees losing their leaves here in the back courtyard of the Wayfarer inn, Beldane the cleric blocks a vicious swing of the sword from sir Percavelle Lé Dic who says to him "You can hit my shield if thou likes".
"No thanks Percy" says Beldane the cleric, who though a younger man, is breathing much heavier than the former paladin, who is also in a suit of full plate armour as they spar, this cool autumn morning in the town of Salme.
The fighting cleric swings his mace, and is pleased to avoid the heavily armoured knight's shield, and hit him on the left arm.
There's a loud grunt of approval from where Dorc da Orc is sitting on the ground, beneath a tree here in the back courtyard of the Wayfarer inn when the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic staggers sideways from that blow.
The powerful cleric who hails from the kingdom of Nastell, who is using his mace as a mundane weapon, and not using any of it's magical properties as he spars against the former earl of Lé Dic.
Goes to follow up that hit, with another swing from his weapon. Only to be blocked again by the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che's sword.
Beldane is just glad the large, heavily armoured knight who is extremely quick even though he's over fifteen years older than him.
Is using his longsword, and not the shortsword looking blade he has on his belt.
The fighting cleric in the church of Glaine knows he wouldn't last long if he was up against sir Percavelle Lé Dic if he was using both magical shield, and magical sword.
The cleric in the half plate armour knows he'd have to resort to magic if that was so. And that's not really the point as this is supposed to be a sparring contest between the two of them.
Though that doesn't stop the nobleborn knight who is originally from the kingdom of Druvic, from using his magical shield, the shield of Saint Mar-che.
"Smash his fucken brains in cunt!" calls out Dorc da Orc from where he sits beneath one of the trees on the edge of the back courtyard of the Wayfarer inn.
The large ork, who has an empty ale barrel beside him, and is drinking from another one, is watching the two sparring in the middle of the cobblestone courtyard at the back of the inn.
The ork warleader is hoping Beldane the cleric bashes in sir Percavelle's skull. That would make the ork weaponsmith's morning, seeing his rival's head caved in.
But no such luck, as the heavily armoured knight, for the most part. Is one step ahead of the younger man who hails from the kingdom of Nastell.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world sourly smiles as the former knight of the first class drives the younger man across the courtyard.
Then as Dorkindle watches the pair sparring, he frowns as he notices something, then the large ork grunts, then after that grins.
"Low ya cleric cunt!" calls out the warleader of the ork race who is a general in the armies of Farque "Hit 'em fucken low, under that shitty shield!" adds the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
Beldane the cleric swings low after ducking beneath a sword stroke from the heavily armoured knight.
"Narille!" yelps sir Percavelle Lé Dic as he jumps back out of the way, avoiding a whack to the legs as he was holding his shield up as he spars against the fighting cleric.
The former earl of Lé Dic, a fief found in the east of the kingdom of Druvic scowls as he glances over to where Dorc da Orc is sitting under one of the trees on the edge of the courtyard behind the inn.
He finds the ork general grinning as he watches the sparring match between the former paladin and the powerful cleric.
"Filthy beast" mutters sir Percavelle who is more commonly called Percy by the rest of the group, with the exception of Dorkindle, who calls him either cunt, or knight cunt, and sometimes cunt knight.
The knight in the order of Saint Mar-che after jumping back a second time to avoid a whack to the legs from Beldane.
Adjusts his shield, and lowers it, making the contest between the two much more even as they drive one another back and forth across the courtyard as they continue to spar.
They only stop when Tamric Drubine appears at the open backdoor, and tells the three of them to come inside, as lord Farque wants to speak to the lot of them.
In the back dining room, essentially a private room in the Wayfarer. They find that not only Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera have returned from the airdocks.
But Helbe the elven thief along with Arvelle Ganard the plainsman are also here, as the two of them were at the duke's court, in his family's castle this morning.
At one end of the table, sits lord Farque. Who is reading letters from a leather satchel at his elbow. Once he's read each one, he hands them to Helbe the elven thief, who is on his right, down that side of the table.
"Killer?" asks Dorc da Orc as he sits down on the floor behind lord and ruler of the lands Farque's chair.
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head as he continues to read the latest piece of parchment he's taken from the leather satchel.
Then after both Beldane the cleric and sir Percavelle Lé Dic use the bowl of water on one of the side tables to freshen up, before they take a seat at the table with the rest of the group.
Lord Farque finally breaks his silence, and glances along the left side of the table and says "Arvelle tell them".
Beldane doesn't know what to make of the situation involving the tall plainsman with the shaved head.
In some ways he finds it more disturbing than lord Farque, who is undead. And from what he's been taught by his church. Is basically evil.
Though that really hasn't been the case since Beldane has been in his company. As he hasn't seen the undead warlord actually do anything evil.
But with Arvelle, it's something else entirely. In simple terms it's straight out possession of a body. Even though that body was dead before possession took place.
For the plainsman who was an illegal wrecker. Was previously Darid Parsen the cavalry commander. Who the fighting cleric briefly knew.
But before that, he's been in numerous other bodies from what the others in the group, with the exception of Dorc da Orc have told him.
Going back to when he was originally a barbarian hordesman by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who actually died over a dozen years ago.
The member of the church of Glaine as he listens to the tall plainsman, doesn't know what's worse.
Arvelle who though dead, his body is alive and is inhabited by the soul of Zubutai the barbarian hordesman.
Or lord Farque, who is definitely not alive, who died many centuries ago, and is undead.
"The lord will inform us of what Mira, Shur Kee and Dalin have sent" says Arvelle Ganard the plainsman with a nod of his head to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who along with Helbe the elven thief is continuing to read each missive in the leather satchel, that Lisell Maera and Tamric Drubine got from an airship a little while ago in the town's airdocks.
"But for now, i can tell you that duke Korros of Girnath has just arrived at the duke's castle and informed that the plague has wiped out hundreds of people in his duchy" adds the former illegal wrecker from the Kaldel Plains who follows that with "And like you lot found out last week, all the children and younger people in the villages affected are missing".
The tall plainsman with the shaved head who is a cavalry commander in the armies of Farque, waits a moment as the others listening, Tam, Lis, Beldane and Percy, nod.
Then he continues on with "Duke Korros got an interesting visit from a royal messenger from the capital, who informed him that the king was concerned about the spread of the plague in Girnath, and about the missing children and youngsters".
Arvelle aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman briefly pauses, before he says "So much so, that the king will send out a detachment of his army to help to stop the spread of the plague, and to help locate the missing children and young people".
There's a few moments of silence, which is eventually broken by Tamric Drubine who says "Now if that's not a lame cover for a first strike, then i don't know anything about warfare".
"Here, here" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic in agreement with the young field commander "This beguiling king wishes to take the initiative, and strike this duke of Girnath with his pants down wot" adds the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
"Have you found out who was responsible for the plague?" asks Lisell Maera as she first looks at Arvelle the plainsman, then over to the otherside of the table to where Helbe the elven thief is sitting reading one of the missives that lord Farque has finished reading.
"No one at the duke's court is responsible, and they still don't know that it was magically created" says the former illegal wrecker from the Kaldel Plains, who after nodding over at his fellow member of lord Farque's personal council, Helbe the elven thief, he adds "And from what Helbe was able to quickly find out before we came back here, this duke Korros and the members of his retinue have no idea how this plague came about" Arvelle Ganard follows that with "They have no idea where the missing children and young people are too".
"So the king will send his army west under the pretense of stopping the spread of the plague, and to find these missing children and young people?" says Lisell Maera "Looks like it" says Arvelle the plainsman, who continues with "This will probably prompt duke Hilloc into his rebellion sooner rather than later" the former illegal wrecker from the Kaldel Plains then adds "And hopefully prompt him into hiring us too".
"How's that going?" asks Tamric Drubine "A little better" says Arvelle aka Zubutai Timaginson who then adds "Some of his allies have changed their minds about hiring mercenaries" the cavalry commander momentarily pauses before continuing in a slightly dry tone with "Well, i should say Helbe changed their minds".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel flashes a grin when he hears that as he reads the piece of parchment in his hands.
The tall plainsman with the shaved head falls silent when lord Farque looks up from reading the last missive, and says "Mira says the capital is definitely preparing for war".
The heavily armoured deathlord continues with "The usual opportunists are popping up and setting up shop in the capital as they know war is imminent".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque then adds "Shipping to and from the capital has increased in the last few weeks, and troop movements have picked up at the palace as well as the army barracks in and around the capital".
"War then?" says Arvelle the plainsman, the lord of the death realm nods his full helmed head then says "Probably at the start of winter the way things are going".
The undead being also known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands looks at the tall plainsman with the shaved head, then at the elven masterthief and tells the two of them "Get the duke to hire us, if not his rebellion will end fairly quickly as he and his allies are no match for the crown".
"We're working on it" murmurs councillor Arvelle Ganard, the undead warlord nods then he falls silent.
"What is it?" quietly asks Helbe the elven thief after he finishes reading the last missive sent from the capital by Mira Reinholt the mage, and he looks at the deathlord of Farque who has fallen silent.
"I can understand the plague they've created as an excuse to send the king's army west" quietly says lord Farque, who after a slight pause adds "But what's with the missing children and youngsters" . . . . . .

A Grand Design 3.

Mid Autumn. The Town Of Salme. The Duchy Of Dalmar. The Kingdom Of Girdane.

Arvelle the plainsman makes his way out of the chambers after another unsuccessful attempt to get them hired by duke Hilloc, the duke of Dalmar.
The tall, shaven headed plainsman who really isn't what he seems to be. Looks around as another petitioner is ushered into the duke's meeting chambers.
Arvelle spots a figure standing next to one of the columns here in the outer chamber, and makes his way over to the figure in the white hooded cloak.
"When did you get back?" quietly asks Arvelle the plainsman in the elven language "Not so long ago" is the quiet reply of Helbe the elven thief in the same language.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel who along with most of the rest of the group, have been for the last couple of weeks or so, exploring the duchies here in the west of the kingdom of Girdane, then adds "Around midmorning".
The plainsman who at the start of autumn was an illegal wrecker plying his trade on the Kaldel Plains, which lie to the north of Girdane, nods his head, then quietly says "Let's get something to eat" as it's now around noon, and he's been in a meeting with the duke and his advisors for most of the morning.
The elven masterthief nods his hooded head, and the two of them make their way out of the outer chamber. Garnering a few looks from the other partitioners, and those of the duke's court who are in attendance.
The tall plainsman and the elven magic user are silent as they make their way through the duke's castle.
And remain so, as they cross the inner courtyard, and out through the inner wall, and into the outer bailey.
They're still silent as they pass through the main gates in the outer wall. And exit the castle, and enter the walled town of Salme itself.
It's only after Arvelle points the way to go, that they break the silence and Helbe the elven thief quietly says "No luck?".
"None" is the reply from the tall plainsman, who rubs his shaved head, then wryly smiles.
The former illegal wrecker then adds in a slightly dry tone with "Though he still wants more gold and jewels from what the wreckers have taken on the plains".
"Of course" dryly says the young elven noble who is a member of the royal family that rules the island principality of Laerel.
"Any reason why he's so reluctant?" asks the highly talented elven magic user "I actually think he's okay with the idea" says Arvelle the plainsman who continues with "Though some of his advisors and allies are dead set against it" he then adds "They don't want mercenaries on their side, especially an army of foreign mercenaries".
The elven master assassin shakes his hooded head in disgust, then says "If and when they finally decide to go ahead with their rebellion, they'll never succeed without extra help".
The tall plainsman nods his shaved head in agreement, as he leads the way to a nearby taverna that he's frequented since arriving here in Salme.
The walled town of Salme is in the very west of the duchy of Dalmar. And is the seat of power for the duke and his family.
The town itself, is dominated by the duke's castle, a five hundred year old fortification that's on a hill in the north of the town, which is spread out around it, and below it.
With it's cobblestone streets, and a modest sized airdock. Salme is the hub of commerce and activity in the very west of the kingdom, and has been for many centuries.
And though over the years it's fortunes have waned and flowed, it's a town, along with the rest of the duchy. That's always been politically secure. And for the most part, loyal to the throne in the city of Oaklynn.
Though in recent times, over the last few years, and especially in the last eighteen months.
There's been upheaval in Dalmar, and in other duchies in the west of the kingdom.
As first a decree of higher taxes came from the throne. The first time in decades that's happened.
And second, and more importantly to duke Hilloc, his younger sister Mera, married lord Yarmoth. The regent of the city of Oaklynn, and a cousin of the king.
A marriage that wasn't political like pretty much all marriages between nobles, which in all intensive purposes are arranged.
But was a marriage that was pretty much forced if rumours are to believed. As the lady Mera went to the king's court the previous summer as many of the nobility throughout the kingdom do.
And by the end of summer she was married to lord Yarmoth, a man over twenty years older than her. Who has been married and widowed twice already.
With word at the king's court, he might of had something to do with the deaths of his two previous wives. One apparently died giving birth. And the other died in a boating accident on the river Tambir, near the capital Oaklynn.
After walking through the cobblestone streets and lanes, they get to the taverna on what's a cool, but sunny mid autumn day.
Once seated at a small table inside, and they've ordered some wine and some local dishes.
Arvelle the plainsman, who in actual fact is a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to find himself inhibiting the body of the former illegal wrecker from the Kaldel Plains.
Asks the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel "What did you find out?" followed by "Anything new?".
"Quite a lot actually" says the elven master archer who along with much of the group, with the exception of Arvelle who remained here in Salme. And Mira Reinholt the mage, Shur Kee the monk, and Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy who are in the east of the kingdom, in the capital Oaklynn.
Traveled north of Salme, and into the north of the duchy of Dalmar, and further north into the duchies of Falosen and Girnath.
To see what was happening, as there were a myriad of rumours about what's been going on in the countryside in the three western duchies of the kingdom.
Arvelle aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman is pretty much silent as he listens to the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel explain what he and the others found out.
Only speaking when the serving woman brings over their wine and food, and a bit later, and he says in surprise "The plague?". When the elven magic user, who along with himself, are members of the personal council to lord Farque tells him something of significance.
"Yes" says the elven princeling who continues with "Though a magically created one".
The tall plainsman with the shaved head, who has decided to keep shaving his head. For when he spent a few weeks trying to grow his hair out, he looked ridiculous. Quietly says to the elven magic user "Who would do that?".
"Whoever would get the most benefit out of it" is the quiet reply of the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel "The duke as he tries to shore up more support for his rebellion?" adds the elven master assassin who follows that with "Or the king, as an excuse to send his army west to make sure the plague doesn't spread?".
The tall plainsman who is really a barbarian hordesman from the southern tundra, is silent as he thinks about it.
And as he takes a drink from his goblet of wine, he slightly nods when Helbe the elven thief tells him "Or it could be someone completely unrelated".
After putting down his goblet, Arvelle the former illegal wrecker asks "What does he think?".
"He's not sure" says prince Helbenthril Raendril who continues on with "Though he wants to find out".
"Once we do find out, do you think it'll make a difference in the decision of our potential employment?" asks Arvelle aka Zubutai Timaginson.
"I doubt it" says the elven masterthief who is a member of the royal family that rules the principality of Laerel "He's just cares about who'll hire us" adds the highly talented elven magic user.
The former illegal wrecker from the Kaldel Plains grunts as they discuss lord Farque, who is hoping they'll get hired by one side or the other in any potential war here in the kingdom of Girdane.
As they know both sides are definitely preparing for a potential war. That could happen at anytime really. Even in the late autumn, and winter.
Or more likely in the late spring, and summer. After the spring rains, that hit most of the kingdom for at least a  month, and even longer in the springtime.
"We found an odd thing out in some of the villages up in the northwest that got hit by this spell created plague" says councillor Raendril who is safe in the knowledge that everyone else in the taverna, which is essentially a wine shop.
Doesn't speak or understand the elven language, which he and Arvelle the plainsman are conversing in.
He's read everyone else's mind here in the taverna to make sure they don't.
"Oh what was that?" asks Arvelle aka Zubutai the son of Timaginson "All the children and young people in those villages were missing" is the reply from the elven master assassin.
The former illegal wrecker blinks in surprise at that, then after a few moments of silence, he quietly asks "Any idea why?".
"None" says the elven princeling, who continues with "It's one of the things we have to find out" he then adds "Along with getting hired".
"I'm working on that" dryly says Arvelle the plainsman who is eating a selection of cold meats, along with various cheeses on small crackers.
"I'm back, I'll help you with that" says prince Helbenthril Raendril who continues with "He'd prefer us to be hired by the duke, since we're already out here in the west".
The tall plainsman with the shaved head grunts at that, and as he eats a rather pungent white cheese, the young elven noble from the principality of Laerel adds "If not, we'll head east and join up with Mira and the others, and see if we can get a hire with the king".
"That might be even more difficult" says the former illegal wrecker from the Kaldel Plains, who continues with "From what I've learnt at the duke's court is that the king is even more conservative than the nobility out here in the west, and he definitely won't hire a foreign mercenary army".
It's the elven masterthief's turn to grunt when he hears that, and he does so again when the tall plainsman with the shaved head adds "He won't even enter into talks on that matter".
"That's not good" mutters Helbe the elven thief, as more and more, it looks like there's only one choice of them getting a hire here in the kingdom of Girdane, in any potential revolt that's brewing in the kingdom.
"So our choices are, let's face it a bit of questionable fellow in the duke who wants more and more stolen funds from the wreckers on the plains. Who might enter into the idea of hiring us, but some of his advisors and allies are against the idea" says the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel.
"Or the king, who by all accounts is a bit of a greedy sot himself, who in no uncertain terms will even think about hiring a foreign mercenary army, let alone go into any negotiations to do so" continues the highly talented elven magic user.
"That sounds about right" says the tall plainsman who until recently was the leader of a crew of illegal wreckers, who were bringing down airships all across the Kaldel Plains.
With a shake of his head, Arvelle aka Zubutai the son of Timagin continues with "When you put it like that, it sounds like we don't have much of a choice at all".
"That's for sure" wryly says the elven masterthief, who after a momentary pause, adds "But since I'm back, i think i might be able to, encourage the duke's allies into hiring us".
The tall plainsman with the shaved head lifts a questioning eyebrow, and the elven princeling tells him "A few subtle suggestions here and there won't be noticed" the elven master archer follows that with "The spellcasters here, though some are powerful, have no idea who i am and what I'm capable of".
"We might actually get hired then" quietly says Arvelle the plainsman as he finishes the last of the slices of cold meat on his plate.
Nodding in agreement with his fellow councillor who is a cavalry commander in the armies of Farque, the young elven noble who acts as an envoy for the armies of Farque says "We just might".
Prince Helbenthril Raendril who will make sure they'll get hired, continues with "If they decide to begin their rebellion at the end of autumn or at the start of winter that won't give us much time".
Arvelle aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman nods in agreement and quietly says "We'll have to bring up one of the armies from down south, that'll take a bit of time".
The highly talented elven magic user nods his hooded head in agreement, then he downs the last of his wine, gestures at the remaining cheese and crackers on his fellow councillor's plate and says "Eat up".
The elven masterthief continues with "Best we get started as soon as possible in changing the minds of the duke's advisors and allies".
"Best we do" says the tall plainsman with the shaved head, who after a slight pause adds "And finding out about that plague and those missing children and young people" Arvelle Ganard continues with "That is definitely odd to say the least" . . . . . .

A Grand Design 2.

Mid Autumn. The City Of Oaklynn. The Capital Of The Kingdom Of Girdane.

At the main airdocks of the city of Oaklynn, which lies about half a mile north of the city proper.
A transport ship approaches the main dock. A massive structure of stone and wood that's circular in shape. And stands nearly fifty foot tall, and is at least a couple hundred yards across. That has hundreds of airships tied up to it at the moment.
And though there's a few smaller docks nearby, similar in shape. But nowhere near the size.
Most airships put in, and moor at the largest airdock. Which also happens to be the largest airdock in all the Southlands.
Girdane, a kingdom in the central region of the Southlands. Isn't the largest nation in the Southlands. Infact it's a middling sized kingdom at best.
But what it lacks in size, it makes up in importance. As it's probably the most strategically placed nation in all of the Southlands.
As it has the vast Kaldel Plains to the north of it. While on it's eastern border is the city-state of Vexil. And further south of Vexil is the city-state of Tuledare.
While to the east of Girdane, lies a large area of highly populated unruled lands. Much of which were nations and kingdoms in the past.
Until they fell in the usual manner, through war and pestilence and the like. As many nations across the Southlands over the centuries have disappeared. While others have risen and prospered.
Such as Girdane, and it's capital Oaklynn. A city that's actually older than the kingdom of Girdane. And was first established over a thousand years ago.
Oaklynn, which is in the eastern districts of Girdane. Is about forty five miles from the border with the city-state of Vexil.
Oaklynn, which is an open city. Which means it has no walls or battlements, at least not any of significance.
Has the river Tambir run a couple miles to the east of it, heading southeast. Where it flows into the city-state of Vexil. And beyond that into unruled lands. Until it finally ends in the city-state of Tuledare which lies about a hundred and forty miles to the southeast of Vexil.
Oaklynn a city that's ruled by a city regent, and a regent's council. Nobles who are separate from the crown.
Though there's always a strong link between the regent and whoever it is on the throne of the kingdom.
As it is nowadays, as the city regent is a cousin of the current king of Girdane.
You would think that would normally be a recipe for a strong grip on power here in Girdane. And normally it would be.
But at this time in the history of the kingdom. Things are a bit different. As this autumn, as it has been for the last year and half. Some think even longer. There's talk of revolt and rebellion across Girdane.
As the duke of Dalmar, a duchy in the west of the kingdom. Who happens to be the brother inlaw of the current city regent of Oaklynn.
Is the one who is leading the talks of rebellion against the crown and the king.
And though no actual conflict has broken out across the kingdom in the last year and a half.
This autumn, many people across Girdane are waiting for hostilities to break out.
They're waiting for fighting to happen either now and in winter. Or to wait after the spring rains. At the end of spring and into the summer. Which is usually the best time for war, anywhere.
Sitting at an outside table of a taverna next to the massive structure that is the largest of the airdocks, a half mile north of the city proper.
Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy watches the large transport ship docking, whilst listening to the airdock workers on their break, sitting at the table next to his.
And though they speak of the day's work. Their conversation soon turns to the talk of rebellion. Which is often the topic of conversation heard across the city.
"Nah the duke won't, he needs more allies to join him if he wants to take on the king" says one of the dock workers, a short burly fellow who continues with "He hasn't got a big enough army to take on his majesty, especially during the cold seasons".
The other dock workers murmur their agreement, then another one, a short, bald headed middle aged man, says "Still, come the end of spring, he might launch an attack against the king's forces".
"I hope not" says another of the airdock workers, who then adds "I've just finished building my place to the west of the city, and if the duke attacks us here, they'll go right through my new home".
The others offer their commiserations to that fellow. With one suggesting the duke of Dalmar and his army won't get that close to the capital.
And that if there's going to be any significant battles in any impending war. They'll be further to the west in the kingdom.
The airdock workers are about to continue their conversation, when a foreman of their's, out on the street between the largest of the airdocks. And the taverna and the other shops and buildings on this side of the street. Yells at them to get back to work.
They hurry away, across the street. To the nearest set of steps that lead up to the top of the massive circular airdock.
Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's called by those who know him well. Watch them go up to the top of the circular airdock. And head towards the large transporter that's just come in and docked.
An airship that the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae knows has just come in from the city-state of Vexil. Though it originated from the duchy of Dalmar in the west of the kingdom of Girdane.
The spy Tanith glances back down as a pair of trolls from the nearby shipyards walk by the taverna.
He's glad that Dorc da Orc isn't in Oaklynn at the moment, and is with lord Farque and the others out in the west of the kingdom.
As no doubt the ork warleader would probably attack the two trolls in broad daylight, and not give a shit about the consequences.
The large ork's hate of trolls is only superseded by his hate of dwarves, water which gets him wet, and the sun which makes him hot, in that order too.
As he's made his life's mission to try and wipe out all of those things.
Dwarves and trolls are easy. He just kills them any chance he gets.
Water and the sun are not so easy. As he's still trying to figure out a way to destroy them.
The elven spy who is nearing three centuries of age, slightly shakes his head as he thinks about the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Then he looks back up at the massive circular airdock, and continues to watch the transport ship that's just came in and docked.
In one of the many markets in the city of Oaklynn. Shur Kee the monk looks at some vegetables in one of the stalls.
The short, statured monk who draws a fair few looks due to his appearance, and what he wears.
Contemplates buying some of the vegetables to cook for dinner tonight. As the food at the inn they're staying in. Though good, is rather repetitive and a little lacking in vegetables. Which is what the physical adept predominantly eats.
The acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li after another look at the vegetables. Which are definitely the last of a summer crop.
Decides to move on, and once more have dinner at the inn tonight, or maybe in a nearby taverna. The local Girdaian name for tavern. Or in most cases here in the city of Oaklynn. Wine shops.
Shur Kee, who hails from the otherside of the continent, where the kingdom of Wah Lee lies on the far east coast.
Wanders through the market, looking at the various stalls and stands. And though this market in the northwest of the city is predominantly a farmers and growers markets. As the stall holders come in from the surrounding countryside to sell their wares.
The market also sells other things. From curiosities such as fine jewelry boxes, to large water clocks and everything in between.
The short, statured monk in the white cotton clothing, and who is wearing an odd conical shaped hat.
Stops at one such stall, which is on the back of a wagon. On which is an array of weapons made from wood.
The physical adept who is the living incarnation of the Jade Warrior Bru Li. Studies the staffs and staves amongst the array of wooden weapons.
The stall holder, and older man who is sitting on the tail gate of the wagon. Looks at the short, statured monk and the staff he carries.
"Lorken?" says the stall holder "It is" replies Shur Kee the monk "Expensive stuff" says the older man on the tail gate of the wagon, who continues with "Extremely hard too, like iron they say".
The physical adept nods his head in agreement. And though many of his fellow brothers, and even some of the masters in his order prefer a springy wood for their staffs.
He took a staff made out of the hardest wood possible. Shau ma as it's called in his homeland of Wah Lee. Shau ma which translates to iron wood in the common language Or as it's known here in the Southlands, lorken.
"Good work" politely says the physical adept as he gestures at the staffs and staves, which are indeed good quality weapons. As are the other weapons in the back of the wagon, like the mallets, clubs, and batons.
"No where near as good as yours" says the stall holder in a slightly dry tone of voice, who then adds "A master craftsman made that".
The older man continues with "Though thank you for the praise of my work". As he knows anyone who carries a staff like the dark one in the hands of the strange looking fellow in the strange looking clothing, and even stranger looking hat.
Is either a total idiot or a master of such a weapon. As it's more difficult to learn to fight with a staff than it is a sword.
And he's fairly certain the short, statured monk isn't an idiot. And he tells him "Especially coming from someone like you".
Shur Kee slightly bows to the stall holder, and after wishing the older man a good day. The acolyte in the order of Bru Li moves on. And continues on through the market.
That was the second weapons seller he's seen in the city markets in the last two days. He saw a similar stall in a market in the south quarter of the city yesterday.
When in the previous two weeks, he hadn't seen a single stall selling weapons in any of the city's street markets.
You could only buy weapons from various shops across the city belonging to blacksmiths, weaponsmith, and weapons dealers.
But now, in the last two days, weapons sellers are turning up in the city's daily markets.
In his room in the inn he's staying at with Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy and Shur Kee the monk while they're here in the city of Oaklynn.
Mira Reinholt the mage closes the book he's been reading this afternoon while the other two are out and about in the city, that's the capital of the kingdom of Girdane.
The book is 'The Works Of The House Mage Zanaè Alvael". Who the mage Reinholt has learnt was a mage in the armies of Farque, when lord Farque was still alive four and half centuries ago.
The once powerful mage who has owned this book in the past a couple of times.
Goes back to it more than the other two books he took from a village on the Kaldel Plains at the start of autumn.
Though those two tomes have plenty of spells for a mage he's never come across before.
He always goes back to the volume of spellcraft written by the house mage, or war mage, nowadays known as a battlemage, Zanaè Alvael.
The spellcaster who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil. Who was so powerful once, that he too could of become a battlemage. The first mage in a generation in the Southlands to do so.
Finds that the book written by Zanaè Alvael is more compelling to read than the other books he has recently acquired.
It's obvious that the book written by the house mage, is written by herself. While the other two tomes he has in his possession, were each written by many spellcasters. And not all of them mages.
The exiled Vexilian mage who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster, puts the book down on the table beside him.
Then looks out of the window of his second storey room, here in The Iron Monger. An inn located in the northeast of the city of Oaklynn.
Where a lot of smithy's, foundries, iron sellers and metal workers are found.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
Until he was stripped off most of his vast powers when he went through a rift, void that he accidentally cast that took him offworld.
Looks out the west facing window for quite some time, until he eventually sees the sun starting to set in the sky to the west. And he hears a knock on the door to his room.
"Come in" says Mira Reinholt the mage, the door opens and Shur Kee the monk enters.
And after the short, statured monk takes a seat on another of the chairs at the table.
The highly skilled swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil asks the physical adept who is from beyond the Southlands "What did you find today?".
It's the same question the mage Reinholt asks Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy a little bit later, when he turns up after spending the day at the main airdocks, that's a half a mile north of the city proper.
After hearing what the spy Tanith has to say, and with what Shur Kee told him a bit earlier. As well as he what he saw in the surrounding neighbourhood earlier in the day.
Where the many smithy's, foundries and metal working shops were busy with various orders.
Mira Reinholt the mage quietly says to the other two "I think war might break out bit sooner rather than later" he continues with "Maybe the start of winter and not in the warmer seasons" . . . . . .

A Grand Design

Mid Autumn. The Kingdom Of Girdane.

Tamric Drubine the field commander glances at Lisell Maera the messenger and nods.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury turns, and makes her way back down the rise, back down the road behind them.
While the young field commander in the armies of Farque continues to watch the village a few hundred yards away in the distance.
It's a sunny day here in the northwest of the kingdom of Girdane. Just like it was yesterday, and it has been for most of the autumn so far.
And though the days are cool, the weather for the most part across the north of the kingdom has been fine this autumn. Though on those odd days when there has been rain, the rain has been heavy but brief.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, is lying down on the ground, observing the village in the distance.
He continues watching it throughout the middle of the morning, and eventually looks back down the road behind him, and sees the others approaching.
The nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, gets up and goes back down the road a bit to wait for the others.
"What is it?" asks lord Farque when they get to where field commander Drubine is standing to one side of the road.
"There's something out of place at the village up ahead" is the reply from Tamric Drubine the field commander who continues with "It looks empty, but i don't think it is".
Lisell Maera nods in agreement with the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, a castle located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The undead warlord who has sensed that all is not right with the village up ahead, gestures to the top of the rise, and heads up there, followed by the others.
As they head up the road, Tam says to the heavily armoured deathlord "There's a flag flying there" the young field commander continues with "I don't recognise it".
"Plague flag" says Beldane the cleric once they get to the top of the rise and see the village in the distance.
"Isn't plague usually a summer thing?" says Lisell Maera the messenger who more often than not, is referred to as Lis by the others in the group.
"Most are, but some are all year round" says the fighting cleric from the kingdom of Nastell.
"Dorc, Beldane with me" says lord Farque who then adds in the ground pixie language "You too gnat" without even looking at Narladene the ground pixie who is on the right shoulder of Helbe the elven thief.
Then the deathlord of Farque continues in the common language with "The rest of you stay here" he glances back at the elven masterthief and adds "That means you too".
Then the lord and ruler of the lands Farque heads down the road towards the village, along with the ork warleader and the fighting cleric.
"Check it out" quietly says the lord of the death realm in the ground pixie language to Narladene who is flying alongside him.
The naturally magical creature nods her tiny head, then dives down into the ground and quickly makes her way towards the village.
As she does, the undead warlord says to the member of the church of Glaine "Ward yourself from disease".
Beldane nods, and doesn't have to ask the lord and ruler of the lands Farque if he needs warding, as he now knows what lord Farque is.
Something that he's definitely not comfortable with, even though he found out over six weeks ago that the tall, heavily armoured man walking beside him is undead. Instead, the fighting cleric says "What about Dorc?".
With a snort of laughter, Dorc da Orc says "Me can't get sick you dumb cunt".
With a look of surprise upon his face, the powerful cleric from the duchy of Phelm in northern Nastell, asks lord Farque "Is this true?".
"He's immune to all diseases and poisons, all orks are" says the undead warlord as they approach the village, which is off to one side of the road that goes through open farmland here in the northwest of the kingdom of Girdane.
"I never knew that" quietly says Beldane in a tone of surprise, the large ork walking to his right, snorts in derision, then tells the fighting cleric "There's a lot you don't know cunt".
The Nastellian cleric looks sideways at the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, and keeps silent.
As he knows getting into an argument with the ork warleader is something he doesn't want to endure again.
He has done so a couple of times since they've come south from the Kaldel Plains at the start of autumn.
And those arguments have ended with the large ork attempting to kill the member of the church of Glaine.
Beldane has quickly learnt that arguing with Dorkindle could lead to his death if he isn't careful.
"There's definitely disease here" quietly says the fighting cleric who has protection spells against disease and plague up around him as they enter the village.
"But is it the plague?" quietly says lord Farque who is also known as Draugadrottin by the people of his lands.
The lord of the death realm who senses a lot of dead people here in the village, and just a small number of the living, then adds "I don't think so".
They enter a house on the edge of the village, where they find a couple of corpses on the floor in the main room. They've obviously been dead for at least a month, maybe even longer.
As he crouches down to examine the dead bodies, Beldane the cleric who ignores Dorc da Orc licking his lips as he eyes the corpses, says "They definitely died from a disease, which one, I'm not exactly sure".
The powerful cleric in the church of Glaine, continues with "It could be a plague, but again I'm not sure which one".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque nods his full helmed head, then makes his way back outside, followed by Beldane, and eventually Dorc, who started to drool as he looked at the two dead bodies inside.
The lord of the death realm looks around, then points and says "That way" the undead warlord senses the living in that direction.
And as they go that way through the village, they stop at houses, and look in. They find more of the dead. All in various stages of decomposition. Those who have died recently within the last couple of days. To others who have been dead for weeks.
As they approach a house, lord Farque sees Narladene the ground pixie fluttering around the front door of it.
And as he and the ork warleader and fighting cleric approach, the naturally magical creature wings her way over to the large, heavily armoured deathlord.
"A couple inside, they're barely alive" quietly says Narladene the ground pixie in her race's language.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque nods his full helmed head, while the ork weaponsmith scowls when he hears the ground pixie he can smell, but not see.
Des'tier as he's known to elves who might know who he is, opens the front door of the house, and enters. He's followed by the large ork, who has to duck down to get through the doorway. Who is then followed by the fighting cleric in the heavy half plate armour.
Inside they find two people, one on the floor, and the other on a bed in the only room in the house.
They're both caked in blood, bleeding from every orifice possible. The eyes, nose and ears to name just a few. The one on the floor, a man. Is trying to crawl as he slowly bleeds out.
While the woman on the bed, is repeatedly groaning as she tosses her head from side to side.
"Damn" mutters Beldane the cleric as he crouches down next to the man on the floor, who is trying to crawl to the woman on the bed.
The heavily armoured deathlord leans down to get a closer look at the man on the floor too.
Meanwhile the ork weaponsmith remains near the open doorway, sourly smiling as he looks at the state of the two villagers who are slowly bleeding out.
"I could heal them i guess" quietly says the fighting cleric to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Why bother" says Draugadrottin who continues with "You know it'll only be temporary, and they'll end up like this again pretty soon afterwards".
The member of the church of Glaine grimaces, then slowly nods his head in agreement.
Then undead being in the dark blue, black heavy plate armour says "You know what spell was used?". As the disease that has struck the village, was definitely created by magic.
"I've no idea" says the powerful cleric from the kingdom of Nastell, which lies to the east of the vast Kaldel Plains. While the kingdom of Girdane is further south of the plains. "Never seen anything like it" adds the fighting cleric.
Lord Farque glances at Narladene the ground pixie who is hovering off to one side. And slightly nods to her.
She shakes her head no, as she doesn't know what spell was used to create the disease that has struck down these villagers. She has no idea what it was.
The lord of the death realm then silently asks The Sword of Power Ryn. His family's sword, that's strapped to his back. If she knows what the spell could be.
She gives him a handful of possibilities of what it could be. But she isn't certain of what it actually is that's affected this village and it's inhabitants.
Des'tier as he's known by to elven kind, usually those of an older generation. Des'tier which translates to common as The Destroyer.
Slightly frowns, then quietly asks Beldane "Think a dark cleric or a necromancer is responsible for this?".
The member of the church of Glaine, a god that's widely worshiped in the north of the kingdom of Nastell, grimaces when he hears that, then he quietly says "More than possible".
He continues with "They're the ones most likely to do something like this" the fighting cleric momentarily pauses, before adding "Though anyone could cast it if they've learnt it".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque slightly nods his full helmed head, then he gestures at the bleeding man on the floor, and the woman bleeding out on the bed, and quietly says "Best to put them out of their misery".
"I can't do that" says Beldane who is perfectly fine taking a life during combat and battle, after all he is a fighting cleric.
But to take a life at any other time, is against his personal beliefs and his church's doctrine.
"Me will do it" Dorc da Orc says with enthusiasm from where he stands near the open doorway.
The undead warlord rolls his eyes as he knows the large ork will make a hell of a mess if he was to do so.
Then as Beldane gets out of the way, lord Farque moves forward and picks up the man on the floor.
The large, heavily armoured deathlord carries him over to the bed, and places him on it, next to the woman who like him is slowly bleeding to death.
Then as the man rolls onto his side, and looks at the woman, who stops groaning, and stops tossing her head from side to side. And she turns her head to look at him as he takes one of her hands in his own.
Lord Farque who has taken his massive sword from across his back. Slams the blade into the man's back, through him, and out his chest. And into the woman's chest, all the way through her and out her back.
The undead warlord pulls his sword out of the dead couple, then makes his way outside, followed by Dorc da Orc, then Beldane the cleric who takes one last look at the dead couple on the bed.
The three of them, along with Narladene the ground pixie continue to go through the village. Finding plenty more dead. And just a handful of others who are still alive in various houses.
And those who are still alive, are like the couple they found that the deathlord of Farque ended up killing.
They're all in a similar state. Slowly bleeding from every orifice possible. Some worse than others. And no way that Beldane could heal any of them.
He'd have to dispell the spell that created the disease, as well as cast healing on those who have been inflicted by it.
So the heavily armoured deathlord ends up killing the others that they find alive.
As they stand outside a small tavern, inside of which Dorc da Orc is gathering some booze that remains.
Beldane the cleric looks up at the plague flag that's flying from a pole up on the roof of the tavern.
"Someone wanted this to look like the plague had struck" says the powerful cleric from the kingdom of Nastell "That's obvious" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who continues on with "The question is, who did it, and why".
The member of the church of Glaine nods his head in agreement, then does so again when the undead warlord says "The crown or the rebellion?" Draugadrottin as he's also known as by the people of his lands, then adds "Or someone else?".
The fighting cleric who only joined the group at the end of the summer, is silent as he contemplates the possibilities. And what they could mean to them, and why they're here in the kingdom of Girdane.
Eventually Dorc da Orc makes his way out of the small tavern, carrying a couple of barrels of ale, and a sack full of wine casks.
The three of them, along with Narladene the ground pixie who is invisible to the ork warleader and the powerful cleric.
Make their way out of the village, and head back to where the others are waiting further down the road.
As they walk back to where the others are, lord Farque says "Did you notice it?".
"No" says Beldane the cleric, who then adds "What?".
"There were no children or young people amongst the dead in the village" says the large, heavily armoured deathlord.
The powerful cleric blinks in surprise, while the ork weaponsmith grunts. As they didn't realise that until lord of the death realm just mentioned it . . . . . .

Aftermath 76.

The Kaldel Plains...

After glancing over at a rather disoriented looking Arvelle the plainsman.
Mira Reinholt the mage quietly says to lord Farque who has just walked over to him and Helbe the elven thief "He might be fairly useful".
"Oh?" says lord Farque who has just walked back to where the others are standing around where the krean scoutship the El Mariq is moored.
The mage Reinholt and the elven masterthief share a look. Then the two of them explain to the undead warlord what they've found about the illegal wrecker Arvelle. And his connection with the duke of Dalmar in the kingdom of Girdane.
His name is Arvelle Ganard, a plainsman from, appropriately the Kaldel Plains.
An adventurer turned criminal, who more recently was the leader of a crew of illegal wreckers. Who had been bringing down airships across the Kaldel Plains over the last year or so.
Well, that's who he was. And still is, though only on the surface. As he's actually a hordes barbarian from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson. Who happens to be inhabiting the body of Arvelle Ganard the plainsman.
As always when he comes back to life, Zubutai the son of Timagin is feeling more than a little off balance and disoriented.
Even sitting on the ground, he feels like the world is tilting from side to side, with everything brighter than they normally are. He closes his eyes, then quickly opens them. As it feels even worse with his eyes shut.
Arvelle aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman tries to concentrate on the conversation going on nearby. But as always, straight after coming back to life in another body. Noises are slightly muted, and sounds are murky to him.
Though he knows this will pass. Just as the bright colours he's seeing from his tilted vision. Will return to normal soon enough.
So he just sits there, taking calm steady breaths, as he waits for his his senses to calm down and get back to normal.
"Well isn't that interesting" quietly says lord Farque as they speak in the elven language while watching the nearby plainsman sitting on the ground.
The undead warlord who was more than a little annoyed that both Darid Parsen the cavalry commander and Teabagger the goblin Cunt were dead when he showed up.
Quietly says to two of the members of his personal council "We might have to find out how that attempted rebellion is going on in Girdane" the heavily armoured deathlord continues with "See what side is looking to hire".
Both spellcasters nod their hooded heads in agreement, then Helbe the elven thief says "Whatever side it is, we've got an in with the duke of Dalmar to begin with" as they look at the dazed looking plainsman sitting nearby on the ground.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin by his people, slightly nods his full helmed head, then quietly says to the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel "Get him onboard and into a cabin".
The lord of the death realm continues with "He's always fucked up after returning to the world of the living" followed by "He needs a bit of time, and some peace and quiet to have things settle down for him".
The highly talented elven magic user nods his hooded head, then says "I will" then the elven master assassin says to his fellow spellcaster, the mage Reinholt "You get to tell him".
"Tell me what?" says the heavily armoured deathlord as he looks at the once powerful mage, whilst the young elven noble makes his way over to Arvelle Ganard, to help him stand up, and to get him onboard the krean scoutship.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster, slightly winces, then says to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque "We've got a little bit of a problem".
"Nothing new there" dryly says the undead warlord who is also known by the name of Des'tier by elven kind who might know him.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, gestures away to where Dorc da Orc is crouching, warily eyeing up Axe the undead wardog.
"It's Dorc" says the Vexilian mage in exile "That's not a little problem, that's a big fucking problem" dryly says the heavily armoured deathlord who then adds "You've known that for the last eighteen years".
The swordmaster Reinholt can't help but chuckle at that, then he says "Well yeah, that's true" the once powerful mage continues with "But the bit of the problem we have now with him, is that he insists on carrying that poor dead goblin around with him everywhere".
Mira Reinholt who always liked the goblin commander Teabagger the goblin Cunt, who he thought was a hell of a lot smarter than the large ork who was his general, then adds "Helbe has cast a spell on the body so it doesn't spoil or corrupt" he briefly pauses before continuing with "But still".
"I get ya" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who refrains from sighing, then the large heavily armoured deathlord says "I'll speak to the big idiot about it".
The undead warlord then glances down at the mage Reinholt, and quietly asks him "How have the others been?" followed by "And in others, i mean that cleric".
I was wondering when you were going to get to him, the Vexilian mage in exile thinks to himself, who looks up to the deck of the El Mariq, where the cleric in question, Beldane is with Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera.
"Fine i suppose" says the spellcaster who was the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil "I had him go onboard and below deck with Tam and Lis when the chief navigator took you up into the sky" says Mira Reinholt who then adds "So he didn't see what happen, which might be for the best".
Draugadrottin slightly grunts at that, and does so again, when the highly skilled swordmaster quietly says "He still doesn't know what you are, which also might be for the best".
"He'll have to find out sooner or later" says the undead warlord, who after a slight pause adds "At least that damn mace of his doesn't warn him about me".
The once powerful mage slightly nods his hooded head at that. For he knows that just before they left the kingdom of Nastell. Helbe the elven thief took the cleric's mace and with the help of lord Farque and his family's sword, slightly altered the magical mace that belongs to Beldane.
So that it's no longer erratic as it protects him. Nor will it warn him about lord Farque and the other undead of the lands Farque.
Which would be more than a slight inconvenience as Beldane is now in the armies of Farque.
Lord Farque then tells the exiled Vexilian mage "I'll just go and talk to that big fucking psycho Dorc".
While the lord of the death realm makes his way over to where the ork warleader is crouching, watching Axe the undead wardog run at him. Then stop just a few feet short of him, then take off running in the other direction again.
Up on the flat deck of the krean scoutship the El Mariq, Beldane the cleric says "That's the largest damn dog I've ever seen".
The fighting cleric who briefly saw the same dog in the kingdom of Nastell, infact two of them. Shakes his head at the size of the massive canine down on the ground.
Which has now taken off running across the plains as lord Farque speaks with Dorc da Orc.
"Just keep away from him and you'll be fine" says Tamric Drubine the field commander "And if he does get close, whatever you do, don't touch him" adds Lisell Maera the messenger.
The fighting cleric in the church of Glaine nods his head. As he was given that same warning by prince Helbenthril Raendril back in the kingdom of Nastell. When he briefly met lord Farque, who had two of his wardogs with him at the time.
"And if i did touch him?" asks the powerful cleric who is originally from the duchy of Phelm, which is located in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
"You don't want to know" dryly says Tamric Drubine, a nobleborn teenager who hails from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
Lisell Maera who is originally from the city-state of Brattonbury nods in agreement with the young field commander.
Then as Helbe the elven thief brings the plainsman Arvelle Ganard onboard, and takes him below.
Shur Kee the monk, Sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Tovis the war engineer come onboard too.
And join the three standing on the starboard side of the flat deck of the El Mariq.
There they look down at lord Farque and Dorc da Orc who are deep in conversation in the ork language, while Mira Reinholt watches on from nearby.
"Wonder what they're talking about?" quietly asks Beldane the cleric who had no idea lord Farque could speak the ork language.
Infact he doesn't know a lot about the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, whose armies he's now part of.
"Whatever it is, it looks like Dorc is arguing about it" says Lisell Mara who is more commonly called Lis by the others in the group.
"That smelly beast was born argumentative" loudly mutters sir Percavelle Lé Dic as he sourly smiles while watching the large ork and the large, heavily armoured warlord deep in conversation down on the ground off the starboard side of the krean scoutship.
"It also looks like he's not happy about it" quietly says the cleric in the church of Glaine referring to the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
As the ork warleader is now shouting and yelling in the ork language, while lord Farque calmly speaks to him.
Then the ork weaponsmith who is worked up about something, growls then roars, and throws a punch at the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Well, he tries to. Because all that happens, is that Dorkindle ends up on the ground, with the heavily armoured deathlord's right steel boot on the chest of the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
Lord Farque calls out to the wardog Axe. And as Dorc da Orc struggles on the ground beneath the boot of Draugadrottin. The lord of the death realm quietly says something to Mira Reinholt.
Then the undead warlord takes his boot off the big, burly ork who is from the from the frozen bottom of the world.
And as the lord and ruler of the lands Farque moves away, making his way to where the cloak wrapped body of Teabagger the goblin Cunt is lying.
Dorc da Orc goes to get up, until he suddenly freezes as Axe the undead wardog clamps his jaws down on the right boot of the warleader of the ork race.
And as lord Farque picks up the dead body of the goblin commander, and heads out across the plains, away from the krean scoutship the El Mariq.
The undead wardog Axe follows him, dragging Dorkindle along beside him. With the large ork's right foot and boot firmly between the jaws of the massive animal.
And as ork weaponsmith screams and shouts in a mix of both the ork and common languages, and also does a lot of pleading to both the undead warlord and his wardog. Who both ignore him as Axe drags him along the ground with ease.
Mira Reinholt the mage looks up at those on the flat deck of the krean scoutship and says to them "Right you lot, come along".
The once powerful mage gestures to lord Farque and Axe, and the large ork being dragged along by the undead wardog, and adds "That way".
A grinning sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who is finding it an absolute pleasure to see Dorc da Orc being dragged along the ground, shouting and yelling in protest in both the ork and common languages.
Is the first one off the El Mariq, and follows behind the mage Reinholt who is heading out across the plains, after the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, the undead wardog, and the ork warleader.
A short while later, about a thousand yards from the krean scoutship, to the east of it.
Dorc da Orc who is sitting on the ground, glaring at Axe who is sitting nearby, tongue lolling in what looks suspiciously like laughter.
Says in a mutter to lord Farque who is standing to one side "Got no fucken shovel".
"Use your hands then" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who continues with "Hurry up before the others get here". The large ork scowls then mutters "Me not using me hands".
"Yes you are" says the undead warlord, who then adds "Now dig".
"Don't know why me have to fucken have to do it" mutters Dorkindle.
"You know exactly why" says Draugadrottin, who after slightly pausing, continues in a cold tone of voice with "You wouldn't have to, if you hadn't got the goblin commander killed" followed by "Now dig you fat fuck".
Dorkindle who was just about to say something, shuts his mouth, and scowls instead.
Then after a few moments, the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, starts digging up the ground with his bare hands.
The warleader of the ork race growls to himself as he digs away at the ground, flinging dirt up as he goes deeper and deeper.
Eventually ending up with a roughly rectangular shaped hole about five and half foot long, a few feet wide and about four feet deep.
The others have all arrived when he finishes digging. They're also joined by a number of the El Mariq's crew, including the chief navigator, the ship's captain along with the air marine captain.
And finally Helbe the elven thief, who made sure Arvelle Ganard is settled in a cabin below deck on the krean scoutship.
As the others watch on, lord Farque says something to Dorc da Orc. And the ork weaponsmith reluctantly makes his way over to the undead warlord. Where he carefully takes the cloak wrapped body of Teabagger the goblin Cunt from him.
Then the large ork walks over to the grave he's just dug, and carefully places the dead goblin commander into the ground.
"Silly fucken gob-a-lin" mutters Dorkindle with a catch in his voice as he stands there looking down at Teabagger in the grave.
Then the ork warleader looks over at lord Farque who tells him "Say a few words for the dead".
The big, burly ork grunts, then after a moment, and switching to the common language, Dorc da Orc says in a loud, clear voice "Krom walk beside this gob-a-lin named Teabagger, Krom be with him" followed "Wolf run with him" as he recites a prayer of the orks of his tribe.
It's short and to the point, and the large ork though satisfied with it. Knows something else should be said for the small, bright green goblin who was the commander of the battalion of goblins in the armies of Farque.
Dorc da Orc looks over at lord Farque again, and mutters something in the ork language.
The heavily armoured deathlord turns to the others and says "Beldane say a few words for the departed".
"Yes my lord" says Beldane the cleric who makes his way to the side of the grave where the ork warleader is standing, and proceeds to give the prayer for the dead in the funeral service conducted in the church of Glaine.
Once the fighting cleric has completed the lengthy prayer and steps back to join the others.
Lord Farque lifts his right arm up, and makes a fist, then says in a loud voice "One of us!"
"One of us!" repeat the members of the krean crew, who as Farqian's, know the death rites of their lands.
"One of mine" quietly adds the the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
After a moment, the krean turn and start walking back to the El Mariq. That's the signal for the others to leave and head back to the krean scoutship. Until only lord Farque, Axe the undead wardog, and Dorc da Orc remain at the grave site.
The undead warlord and the massive animal watch on as the large ork slowly fills in the grave of Teabagger the goblin Cunt.

Here ends "Aftermath". The main storyline will continue in "A Grand Design".

Aftermath 75.

Somewhere Else...

Zubutai the barbarian hordesman yawns once again, and wonders how long he's been here. He figures it's probably a while, though not knowing how time exactly works here, he might of been here just a few moments.
But what he does know, is that he's dead. That's for certain. As he's died a number of times previously. And eventually he always ends up here. On a beach, which he's been told looks exactly like a beach along the coast of the Southlands. In the lands Farque do be exact. South of where the Winter Palace is located.
The hordes outrider from the southern tundra, who most recently was the cavalry commander Darid Parsen.
Gets up off the sand, and making sure not to look back behind him. As he knows looking in that direction, all he'll see is a white light and pain. He makes his way down to the water's edge.
The barbarian hordesman from the southern tundra is even more careful not to touch the water.
And he leans out over it, and sees that the light breaking surf is almost like a mirror. He looks at himself, and lifts an eyebrow in surprise. For this is the first time he's ever done this in his many deaths.
And he finds that he still looks like he exactly did when he first died over a dozen years ago during a war, one winter in the southern kingdom of Melaurn.
He wasn't expecting that. As he thought he might of aged during each successive life he's lived. Apparently not.
"Makes sense i guess" Zubutai the barbarian hordesman murmurs to himself, the outrider from the pony archers horde then silently adds, of course I'd still look like i did when i first died.
Zubutai Timaginson slightly shakes his head, then he turns around, and keeping his eyes down, and looking only at the white sand beneath his feet, he makes his way back up the beach.
And gets back to where he was sitting before. The barbarian hordesman from the southern tundra sits down, facing the water once more. And continues to wait.
As he waits, Zubutai the son of Timagin thinks of some of the lives he's lived. From the dwarf Harfstac the very first person he came back as. To Darid Parsen the most recent person he's lived as. And many in between.
He's been a woman and a spellcaster. An experience he'll never forget. And something he never wants to experience again. Being Kail Ariss the sorceress was trying to say the least.
Being a woman was difficult enough. But being a practitioner of magic was a hell of a lot worse.
In the many lives he's lived, that was by far the most demanding and difficult one to deal with.
Meanwhile his life as Riley Hait the mercenary ranger was probably the best.
Probably due to the fact that was the life he was in the longest apart from his own.
He was Riley Hait for more than eight years. And during that life he'd often go for long stretches of time, forgetting that he was actually Zubutai Timaginson.
Which might not be the best in the long run. But was actually a pleasant experience to endure.
He actually didn't mind not remembering that he was a really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra. And instead was a human ranger brought up by elven warders in the principality of Envadarlen.
And he was more than a little annoyed that he was killed during the battle of castle Lé Dic in the kingdom of Druvic just over fifteen months ago.
Though he soon got used to being Darid Parsen, who was a foot soldier in the army of lady Linara Lé Dic.
As he sits here on the beach in the after life, specifically the death realm.
Zubutai the barbarian hordesman wonders who'll he come back as this time.
Though as he looks up and down the beach, then out to the ocean. The hordes outrider from the southern tundra wonders if he'll return to life in another body at all.
As it feels like he's been waiting for an eternity as he sits here. Wondering if and when the one who rules this realm will show up and get him.
The outrider from the pony archers horde yawns again as he continues to wait on the sunny and warm beach here in the after life.
Zubutai the son of Timagin lies down, and closes his eyes, and enjoys the warmth of the sun upon him.
The barbarian hordesman from the southern tundra doesn't know how long it is before he's dozing.
He also doesn't know how long it is before he hears something that wakes him up.
The outrider from the pony archers horde sits up, and looks away to his right along the beach.
And in the distance he spots something. It's ethereal to say the least. Not truly with form.
Whatever it is, it's rather large. And as Zubutai Timaginson watches it, he sees it starting to form.
And one moment it's see through as it heads in this direction. The next moment it's solid. And the barbarian hordesman recognises what it is.
It's one of the wardogs of Farque, one of the undead ones. And by the size of it, it's either Hammer, Anvil or Axe. As they're the largest of any of the wardogs from the lands Farque.
Axe, Zubutai the son of Timagin wryly thinks to himself as the massive undead wardog runs up to him softly barking, before running around him, kicking up sand all over the barbarian hordesman from the southern tundra.
Even in this realm, the hordes outrider keeps his hands to himself, away from the massive animal. For even though Zubutai is dead, even he knows he can still be destroyed by someone or something like the undead wardog.
Who growls at the hordes barbarian, which sounds like an admonishment, or a telling off, to the ear of Zubutai the son of Timagin.
Then Axe barks at the outrider from the pony archers horde, wagging his stubby tail as he does so.
Then kicking up sand, the massive black canine, turns and runs back in the direction he came from.
Zubutai Timaginson looks that way, and sees two children running this way, running straight at the massive undead dog. Who suddenly stops right infront of them just when the barbarian hordesman thought it was going to barrel into them.
Then Axe heads back this way along the beach, chased by the two children, who are obviously twins, around the age of four.
Two more figures appear on the beach in that direction. A tall striking looking woman. And an even taller man.
And though Zubutai the son of Timagin has only seen the man a few times not wearing his full suit of blue, black armour. The hordes outrider instantly recognises him.
The barbarian hordesman quickly looks to the left down the beach. Not looking at lord Farque and his family.
Even when out of the corner of his eye, he spots Axe on the sand, rolling around with the two giggling children clambering all over him.
Zubutai Timaginson doesn't look their way. He continues to look away to his left down the beach, out at the ocean in that direction.
The hordes outrider from the southern tundra doesn't know how long he looks in that direction. But eventually he hears a throat being cleared.
He looks to his right, and finds lord Farque, once again resplendent in his full suit of armour instead of the clothing Zubutai saw him in earlier.
The lord of the death realm is standing there by himself. While the undead wardog Axe is further up the beach. Sitting there, looking in this direction. Watching his master, and the barbarian hordesman.
"So" says lord Farque, who holds out a gauntleted hand, which Zubutai the son of Timagin takes "You died again" adds the heavily armoured deathlord as he helps the hordes outrider to stand.
"Yeah, which was annoying" says Zubutai the barbarian hordesman who doesn't know exactly how he died, so he figured he was killed by way of magic.
Which it turns out to be, for the lord and ruler of the lands Farque tells him "You were killed by the mage amongst those lot you and the others were fighting" the undead warlord then adds "By all accounts you were blown to bits".
Lord Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin by the people of his lands then says in a sour tone "Which is a bit unfortunate, as you can no longer return to that body".
The lord of the death realm gestures for Zubutai the son of Timagin to walk with him, and head up the beach to where Axe the undead wardog is sitting, waiting for them.
As they walk along the beach, and as the outrider from the southern tundra keeps his eyes forward, not looking away too the side at the white light that's in that direction.
He grunts as he suspected that would be the situation he found himself in. Unable to return into the body of Darid Parsen who he was in previously.
"Plenty of bodies laying around in the village we were in" says the barbarian hordesman who continues with "Suppose i could return in one of them".
"You could" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque who is known as Des'tier to elven kind "But unfortunately we're not there" adds the heavily armoured deathlord.
"We're not?" says Zubutai Timaginson who then adds "I mean the others aren't?" followed by "Where are they?".
"Further south on the plains" says the undead warlord as the two of them along with Axe walk along the beach.
"Hell, when did i die?" asks the outrider from the pony archers horde "Yesterday morning" says lord Farque, who then tells the barbarian hordesman "I only found the others a short time ago myself" followed by "And now I'm here".
The heavily armoured deathlord who is looking around as they walk, mutters "There it bloody is". Then he reaches out and puts a gauntleted hand upon the left shoulder of the hordes outrider, who starts to fade away.
Zubutai Timaginson doesn't know how long it's been, but he finds they're walking along a path amongst some woods. It's familiar to him, as he's come this way often.
"To that temple on that island in that little lake again?" asks the barbarian hordesman who never remembers any of this once he's returned to the world of living. But he remembers it all, once he's here in the death realm.
"We are" says Draugadrottin as they make their way up the dirt path followed by the undead wardog Axe.
Then once they're at the top of a rise, they can see down through the trees. The small lake and tall temple like building out on an island.
They head down to it, and they go to cross the natural causeway to get to the small island sticking out of the lake.
"Is it always this way, and with that fellow?" asks Zubutai the son of Timagin "No it doesn't have to be" says the undead warlord, who then explains "There's other ways to return, but he's the most, shall we say the easiest to get along with".
"He looks like Shur Kee" murmurs the hordes outrider as he recalls the person they're about to meet "You mean Shur Kee looks like him" dryly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The barbarian hordesman grunts at that, then when they get onto the small island, lord Farque tells the hordes outrider "I could return you straight back through the light without seeing whatever body you'd end up in if you want me to".
"No thanks" hastily says Zubutai Timaginson who points to the tower like temple and adds "This way will do".
Inside the temple of the Jade Warrior Bru Li, they stand upon the raised section of the floor, looking out the open front doors, into the world of the living.
"To the left" says lord Farque to the Jade Warrior who sits upon the raised platform opposite the open doors of his temple.
The view outside the front doors slightly changes, and Zubutai the barbarian hordesman slightly frowns as he sees the others in the group, near a krean scoutship, somewhere on the Kaldel Plains in the world of the living.
"Who's that?" asks the hordes outrider gesturing to what looks like a small body wrapped in a cloak.
"The goblin Teabagger" replies Draugadrottin, Zubutai the son of Timagin looks sharply at the lord of the death realm and says in a rather panicked tone "No fucking way".
The barbarian hordesman from the southern tundra then mutters "I'd rather stay here forever".
"Relax" dryly says the undead warlord as the view continues to move to the left, until it stops to where Mira Reinholt the mage and Helbe the elven thief are standing, chatting to one another.
On the ground at the feet of the two spellcasters who are members of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, lies another body.
"That's that plainsman who led those wreckers" murmurs Zubutai the son of Timagin, the heavily armoured deathlord nods his full helmed head, then says "Arvelle".
Definitely take that over the goblin, the outrider from the pony archers horde thinks to himself, then he silently adds, hmmm maybe i can grow that hair out, don't really like that shaved head look.
"Him?" asks Zubutai Timaginson "Him" says the lord of the death realm, the barbarian hordesman nods then waits as he knows he'll soon return to the world of the living as the plainsman Arvelle.
The hordes outrider doesn't know how long he waits, as it feels like an eternity, so he asks the undead warlord "Er what are we waiting for?".
"For either one of those fucking idiots to kill that plainsman" dryly says lord Farque who then adds "He's not dead yet" the heavily armoured deathlord continues with "Like i said, i just got there, and i just got here".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque points further beyond where the mage Reinholt and prince Helbenthril Raendril are standing.
And in the distance, a couple hundred yards away on the plains, Zubutai the son of Timagin spots lord Farque along with the wardog Axe lying on the ground, next to them is the heavily armoured deathlord's sword, which is point first in the ground.
"Oh" says the hordes outrider who then silently adds, hell by the tundra gods, time definitely does work differently here.
Then looking back at the two spellcasters who are members of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, the barbarian hordesman sees Helbe the elven prince point at the illegal wrecker on the ground, Arvelle the plainsman.
"About fucking time" mutters lord Farque, who then reaches out and places a gauntleted hand upon the left shoulder of Zubutai Timaginson and sends him back to the world of the living . . . . . .

Aftermath 74.

The Kaldel Plains...

Mira Reinholt the mage makes his way out of a fairly large house on the edge of the clearing in the middle of the village, carrying a number of books in a satchel.
The once powerful mage heads back to the village green with them. Something of a find he'd never thought he'd come across here.
Apparently the mage amongst the crew of illegal wreckers was a collector of tomes dealing with mages and their spellcraft.
And though the exiled Vexilian mage in the past has come across one of the books he's found. He hasn't the other two. And they have numerous spells and types of mageglobes he's never seen or heard of before.
As he walks through the late afternoon sunshine on what's been a fairly cold day here in the northeast of the Kaldel Plains.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster.
Wonders how they're going to explain things to lord Farque. Not necessarily about what they've done, but more about the death of Darid Parsen the cavalry commander.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, shakes his hooded head at the prospect of that.
On the village green, infront of the badly damaged two storey house that was the abode of Arvelle the leader of the crew illegal wreckers.
Helbe the elven thief watches Dorc da Orc who returned to the village a little while ago. Carry the last of the ship's lockers through the gateway that Beldane the cleric has cast.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, who is rather glad to have a practitioner of magic with them who can create something like a gateway.
Looks away to his left, and sees his fellow spellcaster and member of the personal council to lord Farque, Mira Reinholt the mage walking across the village green in this direction.
When the Vexilian mage in exile gets to the front of the badly damaged two storey house, Helbe the elven thief asks him "Find them?".
"I did" replies Mira Reinholt the mage who holds up the leather satchel of books "And you?" asks the once powerful mage.
"Nothing much" says the elven magic user who a bit earlier went through the roundhouse where the wizard lived, and the house that the sorceress lived in too.
"Just a few scrolls and some potions i took" adds the elven masterthief who happens to be a member of the royal family that rules the elven principality of Laerel.
The swordmaster Reinholt nods his hooded head, then after looking around, then at the gateway that's close by, he asks "All of it through?".
"It is" says the elven master assassin, then they watch as Dorc da Orc along with Beldane the cleric make their way out of the gateway.
Then after the large ork picks up the cloak wrapped body of Teabagger the goblin Cunt from nearby, Helbe the elven thief points and tells the ork warleader "Him too Dorc".
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grunts, then wanders over and picks up the unconscious illegal wrecker, Arvelle the plainsman.
Once the leader of the crew of illegal wreckers is over the left shoulder of the large ork, he ducks down and makes his way through the gateway.
While the elven master archer who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, nods his hooded head to across the south side of the village green, and says "Shame we can't take those with us".
"We can always come back for them i guess" says Mira Reinholt referring to the magetubes in the long building on the south side of the village green.
"But for now" adds the once powerful mage who nods at the nearby gateway, then makes his way towards it, then through it.
He's followed by his fellow councillor, prince Helbenthril Raendril. Then finally Beldane the cleric who is the last to go through the gateway.
A few moments later, and the magical doorway disappears from the village green. And the last trace of the group who attacked the village and the crew of illegal wreckers who lived there, is gone.
In the town nearly thirty miles to the south of the village they were just in. Helbe the elven thief casts an alarm spell on the room in the inn they've stored all the loot they took from the illegal wreckers.
Then he makes his way down the hallway to where Dorc da Orc and Mira Reinholt the mage are deep in conversation.
Seems the large ork wants to carry around the dead body of the goblin commander where ever he goes.
While the Vexilian mage in exile doesn't think that's a particular good idea.
Nor does the young elven noble from Laerel, who says to the warleader of the ork race "Why don't you leave him in there" the elven master assassin continues with "Have him guard the prisoner".
Dorc da Orc blinks in surprise at that suggestion, then he says "Good fucken idea". Then he carries the cloak wrapped body of the goblin commander into the room they're standing infront of.
And puts Teabagger down onto the bed inside, after he rolls the unconscious Arvelle the plainsman off the bed, and onto the floor.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks pats the cloak wrapped body of the goblin commander, then makes his way out of the room, then he heads downstairs after the mage Reinholt closes the door to the room.
"We might have to do something about that" wryly says the swordmaster Reinholt referring to the large ork carrying around the dead body of Teabagger the goblin Cunt where ever he goes.
"It can wait" says Helbe the elven thief who has cast a spell on the dead body of the goblin commander so it doesn't corrupt.
The elven princeling then nods to the stairs, and says "Come on, I'm hungry". Then the two members of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, head downstairs.
Safe in the knowledge that the two in the room they were just infront of. Are going no where anytime soon. For the simple reason Teabagger is dead. While Arvelle the plainsman is under a spell that has rendered him unconscious. And can only be woken when the spell is dropped.
In the common room of the inn, Tamric Drubine the field commander steps over the legs of Dorc da Orc who is sitting on the floor, eating cuts of meat and slices of cheeses from a wooden trencher and drinking from a barrel of ale, next to the two tables the others are seated at.
The nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who has got a pitcher of ale from the counter, sits down next to Tovis the war engineer, and fills their empty mugs back up.
"Beats waiting around for a serving woman" says Tamric Drubine the field commander, as the inn is busy this evening, especially since they turned up a little earlier.
The young engineer from the kingdom of Druvic nods in agreement to that, then he takes a drink of ale, before he continues getting stuck into his meal.
Opposite the two of them, Lisell Maera turns to Mira Reinholt, and in the elven language she quietly asks the once powerful mage "So what are we going to do?".
"We'll keep heading south" replies the Vexilian mage in exile in the same language, who continues on with "Either by Beldane casting gateways or on a passing airship we're able to get a lift on".
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury nods her head at that, then she quietly says "At least ships will be able to fly across the plains a lot more safely after what we've done".
The highly skilled swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil nods his hooded head in agreement with that, then continues eating his meal. The first decent one they've had in a while.
Across on the other table the rest of the group are sitting at, sir Percavelle Lé Dic sourly smiles as he looks to where Dorc da Orc is sitting on the floor, noisily eating, and noisily slurping from the barrel of ale he's got.
Then the nobleborn knight turns and takes the refilled goblet of wine from Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy who he's sitting next to.
While opposite them is Beldane the cleric and Shur Kee the monk, quietly chatting to one another about the eventual day they had in the village about thirty miles to the north.
Meanwhile, prince Helbenthril Raendril sits at the head of the table. Keeping an eye on the rest of the group, especially Dorc da Orc. While also keeping an eye on the others in the common room of the inn, they've decided to stay the night in.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel quietly says "A lot probably" in the elven language in response to Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy asking him in the same language "I wonder how many of those villagers and those wreckers who fled turn up here tomorrow morning?".
The elven spy who is originally from the principality of Alínlae, where he served in one of the more prominent noble houses of his homeland, nods then the elven master assassin tells him "Most likely we'll be gone by the time they start turning up here".
And that's exactly what happens. For in the morning, which dawns cold like yesterday. A sure sign that it's now autumn on the Kaldel Plains.
As the first of those who fled the fighting in the village further to the north, start arriving in town.
The group have already left town. Going by way of a gateway created by Beldane the cleric.
They're at a waypoint about a hundred and twenty miles further south of the town they were just on.
There they wait for the rest of the morning, so the fighting cleric in the church of Glaine doesn't tire himself out before he casts another gateway that will take them further south across the Kaldel Plains.
Onboard the krean scoutship the El Mariq, the chief navigator Gothindil makes his way along a passageway beneath deck, until he gets to a ladder.
He makes his way up the steps, and slides the decking open above him. Then he makes his way up onto the flat deck of the sleek, mastless airship. And closes the sliding bit of deck, and turns.
And comes to a stop, trying not to wince as he comes face to face with a creature that could kill him with ease.
The krean officer steps back, and slightly nods to the massive dog that looks him straight in the eye. No mean feat, as the krean navigator like many of his race is tall, and he stands nearly six and half foot tall.
The krean spellcaster waits, then nods again as the massive canine softly barks at him. Then flops down on the deck, and rolls onto it's back. And starts rolling from side to side, scratching it's back as it softly growls in contentment.
Gothindil goes around it, keeping well clear of it, as he doesn't want to accidentally touch it.
He likes his wings on his back, he doesn't want the massive dog to rip them off because he accidentally touched it. Which he knows it would probably do if it got a hold of him.
The powerful krean spellcaster makes his way forward to the bow. Where a lone figure stands. Someone taller than himself. Who along with the massive dog is the only one onboard the El Mariq who isn't a member of the crew, or a krean.
He's a human. Though no already human. As he isn't alive. He's undead.
"My lord" says Gothindil the chief navigator after he comes to a stop behind the tall, heavily armoured figure, and bows to him.
"Navigator" says lord Farque after he turns and nods his full helmed head to the krean spellcaster.
"We might of found them" says the chief navigator of the El Mariq, who continues with "To the northeast".
The undead warlord senses in that direction for as far as he can, and though he senses some people down on the plains. He doesn't sense those they're searching for.
After raising an eyebrow behind the faceplate of his full headed helm, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque says "You have?".
"Yes my lord" says Gothindil, who continues on with "We've been cumulatively casting" referring to himself and the two other navigators onboard.
The deathlord of Farque slightly nods, as he knows this is what sets krean spellcasters apart from all others. They can cast or sense together as one. Giving them greater power, and greater range than nearly all other practitioners of magic.
"And though we're unable to sense his highness prince Helbenthril and the mage Reinholt, due to what they do, and what they wear respectively" says the chief navigator who then adds "We think we've located the cleric in their company" he follows that with "From the description of him and his abilities and powers we have of him, we think it's him".
The lord of the death realm nods, and does so again, when the tall krean spellcaster says "We shall have to get closer to make sure".
Knowing what that entails, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque says "Go ahead".
"Thank you my lord" says Gothindil, who after bowing, turns and wings his way back to the wheelhouse, making sure to keep well clear of Axe the undead wardog who eyes him up.
Once the chief navigator is in the wheelhouse. Lord Farque calls out something in the ancient language of command to his undead wardog,
Who barks, then drops to his belly, and hunkers down upon the flat mastless deck of the krean scoutship which is picking up speed.
The relatively small, sleek looking airship gets quicker and quicker, soon flying faster than any other airship, then it goes even faster. Traveling well in excess of a hundred and fifty knots. It's going over two hundred knots when it goes through the ship's rift that has appeared in the morning sky.
Once it's through the otherside of the rift, and rapidly slows down more than two hundred miles north of where it was just a couple of moments ago.
Lord Farque senses away to the northeast across the Kaldel Plains. And after a little while, as he senses a number of people on the ground, he finds those they've been searching for.
They're about twenty miles away, and as the deathlord of Farque senses them, he slightly frowns.
He senses a stranger with them, who is unconscious by way of a spell.
And he senses someone dead with them. He quickly realises it's the goblin commander Teabagger.
The lord of the death realm sourly smiles at that, and does so again as he senses and finds that one of the group is missing, and not with the others.
"Fucking hell hordesman, don't tell me you've gone and got yourself killed again?" mutters lord Farque as the El Mariq heads northeast to where the group they've been searching for are located . . . . . .