The Lost Ones 70.

Summer. The East Of The Continent.

"What's all out here?" asks Helbe the elven thief as he points at one of the charts on the table, as well as a map that was purchased in the last border town they stopped at.
"Savannah?" adds the young elven noble from the island principality as he tries to decipher the writing on the map that's in the local language.
"Yeah savannah" replies lord Farque, who continues with "Grasslands".
The highly talented elven magic user nods, as does Jarjin Littlefoot the halfling who has climbed up onto the table, and is sitting on it as they study the maps and charts.
"There's a couple of kingdoms there, but they're all to the north, above the equator" explains the undead warlord who is standing, leaning back against the open windows here in the captain's cabin of the Quick Gull.
"Mira probably knows the names of them" adds the heavily armoured deathlord.
The elven masterthief and the hobbit who is a former air sailor, share a quick look at one another.
Then the young elven noble who is a member of the royal family that rules the principality of Laerel, which is off the coast of the Southlands. Moves one of the charts to one side, to reveal more of the recently purchased map.
Then he says "And all this further west?" followed by "More unruled lands i guess?" as be points at a large blank part of the map that takes up nearly a third of it.
Nodding his full helmed head, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque says "It's a desert that goes on for fucking ages".
The undead being who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, then sourly adds "I had to drag and carry Dorc's fat ass across that when the ship we were on crashed out there".
Both Helbe and Jarjin, who are members of lord Farque's personal council nod. As they've heard about how the undead warlord and Dorc da Orc came out here to the eastern side of the continent a number of years ago, when they were chasing Mira Reinholt the mage across half of the world for nearly five years after he tried to kill them, basically when they first met.
Eventually catching him in the far eastern coastal kingdom of Saedau. Which is part of the Five Kingdoms.
"We're definitely not flying across that" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque as he points a gauntleted forefinger at the blank part of the map.
"We'll head southwest, and go across the lands and kingdoms south of there" adds the lord of the death realm, who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means, The Destroyer.
The halfling, a former air sailor in the Sultan of Dreese's fleet looks to the south of the desert on the map.
And even there the lands and nations aren't particularly detailed.
The hobbit, who in actual fact is really a human, a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to find himself inhabiting the body of the former air sailor from the Sultanate of Dreese.
Goes through the pile of charts next to him, and pulls out one he quickly looked at earlier. And he places it next to the recently purchased map.
"A little better, but not much" says Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit as the chart shows a few of the nations south of the desert in detail compared to the newly bought map.
Though much of the rest of it is a little ambiguous to say the least.
"Looks like there's a few towns and cities we can stop at on the way" says the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel as he points at the chart Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman has just placed next to the map.
"At least that's something" adds the elven master assassin as he looks out the open windows of the cabin, and sees the land they're flying over at the moment.
They're in the very west of the Sultanate of Dreese. And the land is dry, almost arid looking. The greens of the tropical coast are far behind them.
And as the airship heads southwest, the land in turning more to grasslands than anything else. With little in the much of tree cover.
And when you do see trees, they're predominantly in stands. Obviously planted by the inhabitants here in the very west of the Sultanate.
At the moment, they're basically following a dirt road that goes out of the Sultanate.
The captain and crew of the Quick Gull, have never come out this far west in their homeland. And none of them have left the Sultanate by this way.
Some of them have gone north into the kingdom of Yandiv, and some of the other nations of the Five Kingdoms that lie north of the equator.
And the captain and some of his crew have gone directly south of Dreese in the past. Visiting the two nations directly south of the Sultanate.
But none of them have come out this far west, or gone further southwest. Which is the direction the small, sleek looking airship is heading in at the moment.
"I can't read this on this chart" says Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson who continues on with "It's not in the dialect spoken in the Sultanate".
The undead warlord steps forward, and looks at what the former air sailor is pointing at.
Draugadrottin grunts, then says "A warning to be cautious in those two places, and to stay the fuck away from that one".
"Well that sounds great" dryly says the halfling from the mainland of Dreese as he looks at two of the kingdoms that are in pretty good detail on the chart. And a third nation that's basically an outline, with little in the way of detail in it.
"No wonder that place isn't well charted" dryly adds the former air sailor who served in the fleet of the Sultanate of Dreese. Until he died in battle, and  was brought back to life by lord Farque, though with Zubutai the barbarian hordesman inhabiting the body of the hobbit.
"I wouldn't worry too much" says Helbe the elven thief with a shrug of his shoulders.
The cloaked and hooded elven master assassin then adds "I guarantee we've been to far worse places".
"Oh?" says Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit, who then asks "Like where?".
"The entire Southlands" says prince Helbenthril Raendril in the driest tone imaginable, which causes the former air sailor in the Sultanate's fleet to guffaw, and softly chuckle.
"Yeah, well that's true" says the halfling in mirth, who then looks down at the chart that has the warnings about some of the nations to the south of the vast desert that's further to the west, and he quietly murmurs "Still".
Jarjin aka Zubutai the son of Timagin falls silent as there's a knock on the cabin door.
"Enter" calls out lord Farque in the common language, as the three of them have been conversing in elven.
One of the crew, who the lord of the death realm sensed coming down from the deck, enters and says "My lord, the captain wishes a word with you".
Des'tier slightly nods his full helmed head, then says "We'll be up shortly".
"Yes my lord" says the crew member, who then adds "I'll just inform him".
After the air sailor departs, and closes the cabin door. Jarjin Littlefoot quietly says in the elven language "So" followed by "Think he's worried about where we're going?" referring to the ship's captain, as he points at the chart with the warnings on it.
A little while later, and the large, heavily armoured deathlord, the elven masterthief and the halfling who is a former air sailor, make their way up onto the deck of the Quick Gull.
And as Helbe the elven thief wanders forward along the deck to where Mira Reinholt the mage is up on the bow.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque, and the halfling from the mainland of Dreese, head aft to the slightly raised deck there.
As he follows behind the large figure of the lord of the death realm, who towers over everyone else onboard.
Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman glances to the west, and sees that the sun is going down in the sky, and that it will soon be twilight here in the very west of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Helbe the elven thief glances to aft, and sees that lord Farque is in conversation with the ship's captain near the wheel of the Quick Gull, which until very recently was the fastest vessel in the Sultanate's fleet.
The highly talented elven magic user then looks at the spellcaster standing beside him here in the bow, and quietly asks him in the elven language "Did you ever travel in the lands away to the southwest?".
Mira Reinholt the mage shakes his hooded head no, then says "I didn't" followed by "I came across the northern part of the desert when i came out west when i was younger".
The once powerful mage continues with "And when we went back to the Southlands, we skirted most of those places, until we got to the southern coast" he then adds "We sailed back to quite near to the Southlands".
The mage Reinholt, who like Helbe the elven thief and Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit, is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque then says "Took us weeks across the southern ocean, it was summertime, so the conditions weren't bad".
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, then dryly adds "Though weeks onboard a ship at sea with Dorc was a bit of a fucking nightmare" followed by "All the big idiot did was complain about everything".
The elven princeling chuckles, and can well imagine a long trip at sea in the company of Dorc da Orc would be taxing to say the least. Considering the large ork, like all of his kind, absolutely hates water.
The Vexilian spellcaster, who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
Until he was stripped of most of his powers when he went offworld through a rift/void spell he accidentally cast over a dozen years ago.
Shakes his hooded head, and quietly says "I wonder what that big, green idiot is doing at the moment?".
"Probably trying to eat something he shouldn't" says the highly talented elven magic user, who after a brief pause adds "Or trying to kill it" he briefly pauses again, before saying "Or trying to fuck it".
As the mage Reinholt sniggers, the elven master archer adds "Knowing him, probably all three". Which finally causes the once powerful mage to burst out laughing.
While on the right shoulder of Helbe the elven thief, Narladene the ground pixie, who is invisible to all apart from the young elven noble she's attached to, and lord Farque back on the aft deck. Is rolling around, silently laughing at that from the elven princeling.
"Probably" says Mira Reinholt who wipes away tears of laughter from his face, as away in the west, the sun is dropping down towards the horizon.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, who at the age of seventeen, was the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil.
The same age he was sent into exile from his homeland Vexil, due to his treasonous actions during the Battle of Vexil.
The same battle he first met lord Farque and Dorc da Orc, where just after a few days of knowing them, he tried to kill the two of them.
Quietly says to his fellow councillor "At least he's not here to annoy us" the mage Reinholt who rather likes the ork warleader, though only in small doses, as the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world is far too annoying even at the best of times.
"Knowing that fat lump, if he was here, he'd probably try and fly this ship" says the Vexilian mage in exile, who then dryly adds "And end up crashing it".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel nods his hooded head in agreement.
And on the right shoulder of the elven master assassin, the ground pixie Narladene nods in agreement too.
The two spellcasters, one elven who though not especially powerful, is extremely talented. And the other human, who isn't powerfull at all, when once he was more powerful than any other mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
Remain on the bow deck, quietly chatting to one another in the elven language as the sun sets in the west.
When finally dusk takes over, the mage Reinholt heads below deck behind Jarjin Littlefoot, Beldane the cleric and Tovis the war engineer, as well as Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy. As they go to the galley, to see what the ship's cook, who also happens to be ship's carpenter, is serving for dinner.
From what they've eaten so far in this journey, the crew member making the meals, is definitely a better carpenter than he is a cook.
Meanwhile, Helbe the elven thief has remained up on deck.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel caught sight of lord Farque looking his way. Who slightly nodded his full helmed head to the elven magic user before the others went below deck, to see what was being served for dinner in the galley.
The elven masterthief, who also happens to be an elven princeling. Has made his way aft, and joins the lord of the death realm at the starboard rail.
To the right of the helmsman at the wheel, and the officer who is the watch captain. As the night crew of the small vessel are on duty now.
Knowing that the heavily armoured deathlord wants to speak to him about something.
Prince Helbenthril Raendril asks the undead warlord "What is it?".
"Did your sister ever speak to you about her travels out to this side of the continent, and her journey back home?" asks lord Farque who speaks in the royal elven language.
"Malindrin?" says Helbe the elven thief who definitely wasn't expected that.
"Unless you've got some other sister you don't know about, then yes Malindrin" dryly says the heavily armoured deathlord in the language spoken by elven royalty and nobles.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel has the decency to blush. While on his right shoulder, Narladene the ground pixie sourly smiles, as she doesn't understand the other elven language, and doesn't know what was said.
The elven master archer, who remembers that lord Farque and Dorc da Orc met his older sister Malindrin here in the far east of the continent, when they were chasing after the mage Reinholt.
Who fought alongside the two of them, in one of the wars in the Five Kingdoms nearly twenty years ago. And that Dorkindle fell in love with his older sister Malindrin.
Ruefully shakes his hooded head then says in the language of the elven royalty "Not much".
The son of princess Elendreal of Laerel, and Lord Althilgah the Warder of Quinthain, continues with "Just that she came out this way through a northern passage, obviously north of the equator" followed by "And she returned to the Southlands like you lot. Down south along the coast, though she went back by land, while you three went by sea".
Behind the faceplate of his full helm, the deathlord of Farque sourly smiles at the memory of that journey by sea. As it was quite possibly the most annoying journey he's ever taken. For the simple fact Dorc da Orc didn't stop complaining throughout it, as he absolutely hated being surrounded by water for weeks on end.
As they stand at the starboard rail, the undead warlord slightly nods, when the elven masterthief asks him "Want to know about those nations to the south of that desert?".
"The captain and his crew hardly know anything about them either" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque as a crew member lights a few of the ship's lamps, or running lights, as dusk turns to twilight and it becomes early evening.
Then after a brief pause, Draugadrottin looks at the elven princeling and asks him "Why the fuck was your sister out here anyway?" followed by "She never really did explain that to us".
Helbe the elven thief refrains from wincing, and he falls silent as he's reluctant to answer.
The elven magic user looks out and away from the airship as one of the moon rises in the east in the early evening sky.
The grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel glances at the tall, heavily armoured figure standing beside him, and finds the lord of the death realm looking at him.
"Well?" quietly says lord Farque, it doesn't exactly sound like a question, but more of an order from the undead warlord.
The elven masterthief clears his throat, then he quietly says "She was traveling out here because" councillor Raendril pauses for a moment or two, then he adds "She was looking for the fifth principality".
Behind the visor of his full helm, lord Farque raises an eyebrow in surprise, as he wasn't expecting that answer.
"I see" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then asks "She have any luck?".
Shaking his hooded head no, the elven princeling says "She didn't" he then looks at the large, heavily armoured deathlord and asks him "You have any idea where it is?".
"No idea" replies Des'tier who knows that elven kind have been searching for the fifth principality of their's for thousands of years.
There's five principalities of elfdom, three of which are in the Southlands, while a fourth is also in the western half of the continent, though it's to the east and north of the Southlands.
Where the fifth elven principality is, no one really knows. It's not on the other main continent of the world of Volunell, where the former empire of Norstran is located.
It's also not on many of the islands scattered across the oceans around the two main continents. Though to this day, new islands and land masses are being discovered.
It's often thought, by those interested in the subject. Which isn't really that many, even amongst elfdom. That the fifth principality is a myth more than anything else. And if it did really exist, it not longer exists nowadays.
"Is it actually real?" quietly murmurs Helbe the elven thief, who sees lord Farque turn his head slightly, as if he's glancing over his shoulder.
The young elven noble knows he isn't actually doing that, but he's actually communicating with the massive sword strapped to his back.
"It's real" says Des'tier, prince Helbenthril Raendril then asks "Know where?" as he looks at the hilt of the undead warlord's family sword sticking up over his right shoulder.
"No" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who briefly pauses as he speaks with his sword, then he adds "Just somewhere on this continent".
"At least that's something" murmurs the elven magic user, who then slightly frowns, and quietly says "I've always thought it strange that most of elf kind are from or near the Southlands, and that the fifth principality is also on this continent too".
"Nothing strange about it" says lord Farque, who then adds in a dry tone of voice "The Southlands are where the gods appeared on our world, that's why basically every race of people you can think of lives there, compared to elsewhere in the world".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel blinks in surprise as he had never thought of that, then he nods his hooded head when the undead warlord adds "It's also why there's fuck more magic there than anywhere else".
"Hell, that makes sense when you think about it" murmurs Helbe the elven thief as their journey westwards all the way back to the otherside of the continent to the Southlands, upon the airship the Quick Gull continues this night . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 69.

Summer. Southlands. Lowlands. Falmare.

Brossic the flatland mercenary along with the dazed Halnard carry the unconscious Spranen into the safe house.
And after Grunna the sorcerer has a quick look around outside, he follows them inside.
The spellcaster from further down the coast of the Southlands, briefly stops holding his power within himself.
And he heals both Halnard and Spranen, who groans as he wakes up on the floor where they've put him.
"Thanks" says Halnard the mercenary who is relieved that he's no longer dazed and badly bruised.
Grunna the sorcerer nods his head in reply, then says to Brossic "Well, at least no one lives here at the moment".
The lowland mercenary nods his head in agreement, as the small two room house is completely empty at the moment.
And as Spranen the mercenary sits up, wondering what happened to him.
Brossic the flatland mercenary says "Come on, let's see what's happening". And the lowlander heads into the other room, and opens the backdoor, and goes outside.
Out the back, is a set of rickety steps that go up the side of the house, to the flat roof.
As he climbs the steps, and wonders if they'll hold his weight, Brossic who leads the mercenaries who have plans to create their own nation up in the Maldin Hills, says "Just two of us on the roof" followed by "It could never hold the weight of more than three people, who knows what it can hold nowadays".
Grunna and Halnard who have come outside glance at one another, then at the set of rickety steps that Brossic has just climbed.
"Go for it" says Halnard the mercenary to the practitioner of magic from the coast of the Southlands.
Halnard who is from the port town of Gilsom, doesn't particularly care to climb a set of steps that look like they could collapse at any moment now.
And besides, he's of the opinion that the sorcerer can more easily get himself out of trouble if the steps collapse as he climbs them.
Grunna sourly smiles as he eyes the steps, then he starts climbing them, hoping they don't break while he's on them. As he doesn't want to do any unnecessary casting.
The powerful spellcaster from down the coast of the Southlands, breathes a sigh of relief when he gets up onto the roof.
Then moving in a crouch, and keeping an eye on the flat roof itself, he crosses over to where Brossic is kneeling at the edge of the roof.
The lowlander, or flatlander as they're sometimes referred to, stands up when Grunna gets to him.
Brossic looks away to the left, and after a few moments he quietly says "I can't see anything over there".
The sorcerer stands up too, and looks in the same direction, to where just a few streets away, they can see Sharnd the merchant's rather large house.
One of many large, and fenced off houses, in the leafy and rather affluent neighbourhood in the town of Falmare.
"He could be inside" states Grunna the sorcerer, followed by "Or around the back" as the yard, lawns and gardens behind Sharnd's house are rather large. And from their rooftop viewpoint, they can only see part of the back yard.
"Could be" says Brossic the flatland mercenary, who after pausing for a few moments, adds "Or he might not of made it back to his place".
Then the two of them, as they stand upon the roof of the safe house that Sharnd owns, and that he and Brossic used to work from a decade ago, when they first started working together.
Quickly look away to their right. In the direction they've come from. To the north along the east side of Falmare.
The two of them, the lowland mercenary, and the spellcaster from the coast of the Southlands.
Look at the streets, lanes and alleyways they can see from their vantage point.
Trying to see if they can spot Sharnd the merchant. As well as those who have attacked them. Not just attacked them here in Falmare. But previously up in the port town of Gilsom. And before that, up in the Maldin Hills.
Which on this clear and sunny, warm summer's day in the lowlands, can be seen in the distance, a little over twenty miles to the east.
"Nothing" quietly says Grunna the sorcerer, who is reluctant to cast anything to help aid him in finding Sharnd, or those who have attacked them.
"Same" quietly says Brossic the flatlander, who a brief pause adds "Keep looking".
As above them, a few hundred feet above the neighbourhoods in the southeast section of the town of Falmare.
There's a small hawk circling in the sky. Looking straight down at the rooftop that Grunna the sorcerer and Brossic the mercenary are standing on.
The two of them are totally oblivious to it circling above them, as it has been doing for quite some time now.
Tamric Drubine the field commander looks at Saanea the witch, who stands there with her eyes closed.
"It's not that far away" quietly says Saanea the witch after she opens her eyes "Just a few streets from his home" as she nods at the unconscious Sharnd who is draped over the right shoulder of the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
"We'll get closer" quietly says Tamric Drubine the field commander who looks at Saanea then Shur Kee the monk, as he adds "We'll try and keep out of sight".
Both of them nod, and the young field commander in the armies of Farque. Knows that the three of them will try and keep out of sight.
And Lisell Maera the messenger will definitely do likewise.
Not so the two others in the group, sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Dorc da Orc.
Which is fine by the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, as he knows the two of them will definitely draw the attention of the mercenaries they're after.
"What about him?" asks Saanea with a nod of her head at the unconscious local over the right shoulder of field commander Drubine.
Glancing at Sharnd the merchant, Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, says "He'll pay for what he did".
The son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin, looks at Saanea and Shur Kee as he tells them "Lets not forget what he and those others did in those villages up in the hill country".
Tam who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque, continues with "They killed a lot of the villagers in those places".
Both the pretty looking hillwoman, and the short, statured monk nod in agreement.
Then the nobleborn teenager tells them "Let's get going" followed by "And remember, try and keep out of sight" then looking at the physical adept, he adds "Shur Kee you lead, Saanea will give you directions".
The acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li nods, then makes his way out of the quiet lane they've been standing in.
The spellcaster from the Maldin Hills follows right behind him. And behind her, comes Tamric Drubine. Who still carries the unconscious merchant, Sharnd over his right shoulder.
The short, statured monk who hails from the kingdom of Wah Lee, which is on the far east coast of the continent.
Turns right around a corner, as he follows the directions of the pretty looking hillwoman who happens to be a witch.
And the three of them start making their way through the neighbourhoods in the south of the town of Falmare.
As they head to the safe house, that the mercenaries they're after, are hiding in at this moment.
Also in the south of the large lowland town, is sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
The large heavily armoured knight, who happens to be a former paladin, has stopped at a crossroads.
The street he's on has ended, and his only choices are to turn left or right.
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic, looks in both directions, and wonders which way to go.
"Hmmmmm, me thinks you've got a bit of a dilemma here Percy old chap" sir Percavelle Lé Dic murmurs to himself.
It's a rather loud murmur, and many on the street can hear him. The the nobleborn knight has already drawn a bit of attention. He draws more now as he stands there in the middle of the street talking to himself.
"Left or right?" loudly murmurs the former earl of Lé Dic, who then adds a "Wot" as he looks in both directions, as he wonders which way to go.
Then member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che, shrugs his heavily armoured shoulders as he picks a way.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, turns left.
He goes about twenty yards, then turns right onto a street that continues southwards through the southern part of Falmare.
Also in the southern part of town is Dorc da Orc and Lisell Maera the messenger.
Infact the two of them aren't all that far behind sir Percavelle Lé Dic, basically in the same part of town.
The large ork has caught the scent of the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
Causing the ork warleader to growl and mutter to himself in the incomprehensible language of the orks.
Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by the others in the group, glances sideways at the grumbling ork weaponsmith.
The tall, athletic, and attractive looking young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, picks up the pace. And soon out distances the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
The messenger in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque. Has looked up into the clear summer sky, and spotted Saanea's familiar.
The raptor, is much closer, and the circles it's doing a few hundred feet above the ground are getting tighter and tighter.
The attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands knows that those they're after, aren't all that faraway now.
And that it's probably best to keep away from Dorkindle, as no doubt the large ork will been seen from quite some distance. As he tends to be seen and heard by anyone who is keeping an eye out for him.
It doesn't help that he's seven and half foot tall, weighs seven hundred and fifty pounds and is green. Not to mention he's usually extremely loud, and people hear him coming as much as see him.
Lis who is far more subtle, and a hell of a lot more discreet. Wants to see what they're heading into. So she gets away from the large ork as much as she can.
Just a bit further south and east in the town of Falmare. Tamric Drubine the field commander, Saanea the witch, and Shur Kee the monk have stopped in a street, in a quiet residential neighbourhood in the southeast of Falmare.
"They're around the corner on the next street to the right" quietly says Saanea the witch.
The spellcaster from the Maldin Hills who is holding her power within herself at the moment, recalls what she last saw through the eyes of her familiar, as she quietly adds "A small house, about halfway down on  the otherside, two of them might be on the roof of it".
Tamric Drubine the field commander nods, then looking down at the unconscious merchant Sharnd who he's put on the ground, he quietly says "Tie his wrists together, and gag him".
The nobleborn teenager then steps away from the entrance of the alley they're in. Walks infront of the house next to, then stops at the corner, and glances around the corner, and looks down the street to the right.
The young field commander in the armies of Farque spots the house Saanea described.
And he sees two of those they've been chasing, standing on the roof of the small house. That's about forty yards away to the right, on the otherside of the street.
Tam recognises them as Brossic the lowland mercenary, and Grunna the sorcerer.
He watches as the two of them crouch, and Brossic points away to the north, and he and Grunna quietly discuss something.
Field commander Drubine steps back, then he turns, hurries along infront of the house, and turns into the alleyway that Shur Kee and Saanea are in.
"Time for you to wake up" quietly says the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin as he looks down at the unconscious lowlander, Sharnd the merchant.
Whose wrists are bound together infront of him, with leather ties that Saanea has.
And who has a wad of cloth stuffed into his mouth. And another strip of cloth tied around his face and head. Keeping the wad of cloth stuffed into his mouth.
Tam takes his water bottle, and pours the contents of it on the face of Sharnd the merchant, then he slaps the lowlander, who groans as he wakes.
The young field commander the looks down through the alleyway, and softly calls out "Percy down here". As he spots the large, heavily armoured knight come to stop at the end of the street down there.
The former paladin peers down to the this end of the alleyway, spots the others and makes his way to them.
"You've got one of the dastardly villains, wot" states sir Percavelle Lé Dic as he sees Sharnd the merchant who has woken up, and is looking petrified as he looks up them standing over him.
"Yeah" says field commander Drubine, who then adds "And we're just about to get the others too".
A moment later, and the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin says "Perfect" as Lisell Maera the messenger comes jogging into the alleyway, from the same direction the former earl of Lé Dic came from.
"On your feet you" says Tamric Drubine who along with Shur Kee the monk, stand Sharnd the merchant up.
The young field commander in the armies of Farque slightly smiles, and says to the bound and gagged flatland merchant "You're going for a walk".
The lowlander who along with four other mercenaries, has plans for creating a nation of their own up in the Maldin Hills.
Looks both confused, and frightened out of his wits as he looks at those standing around him.
Then he jumps in fright when Tamric Drubine grabs his right arm, then quietly starts explaining something to him . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 68.

Summer. The Town Of Falmare.

"Do you see him?" asks Brossic the lowland mercenary, who grimaces as pain shoots through his skull from his broken nose.
The lowlander then grunts as he readjusts the unconscious Spranen who is slumped over his right shoulder.
While beside him, a dazed looking Halnard blinks as he looks out across the southern part of the town of Falmare.
"I can't see him" says Grunna the sorcerer who has stepped forward from the others as they stand upon the flat roof of a two storey inn.
"Trust bloody Sharnd to piss off like that" adds the powerful spellcaster in a mutter as he looks south across the large lowland town.
Behind the sorcerer from further down the coast of the Southlands, the lowland mercenary Brossic grunts in agreement.
Then he hisses, and winces in pain, as he goes to wipe his sweaty brow with his free arm, and he knocks his broken nose.
"Fuck me, this break hurts" mutters the mercenary who leads the five of them who have plans to create their own nation up in the nearby Maldin Hills.
Brossic who has had his nose broken a couple of times in the past. Can't recall them hurting as much as it does this time.
"Damn that knight" adds Brossic in a loud mutter.
Both the dazed Halnard, and Grunna the sorcerer nod in agreement with what the lowland mercenary just said. Then Brossic says "He's probably running home".
Grunna grunts in agreement, as he too figures that Sharnd the merchant is fleeing through town, back to his home in the south of Falmare.
The sorcerer looks back at the others, looking beyond them, in the direction they've come from. To see if he can spot the large, heavily armoured knight who attacked them.
The spellcaster from further down the coast of the Southlands can't see the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che at the moment.
And he briefly contemplates sensing for the knight's magical shield and weapon. But decides not to, as he knows that there's also a witch out there somewhere. Who probably wants him to do that.
Instead Grunna continues to hold his power within himself, and not sense.
The powerful spellcaster from the coast, will only take hold of his power and use it, when he absolutely has to. Like when he next teleports them away from the rooftop they're on at the moment.
The sorcerer then looks at Brossic, and says to him "That safe house you've mentioned in the past?".
"Might as well" says the lowland mercenary, and as Grunna turns back to the south, Brossic tells him "Can you see Sharnd's home?".
The powerful spellcaster shakes his head no, then says "I can't, but i can see the neighbourhood it's in".
"That's good enough" says Brossic, who steps forward, keeping a hold of the unconscious Spranen, making sure he doesn't slip off his right shoulder.
The lowland, or flatland mercenary winces once more as pain shoots through his skull from his shattered nose.
Then he points to the south with his free hand, and says "Sharnd's house is there somewhere" followed by "The safe house is a few streets to the east of it".
"Are people living there nowadays?" asks Grunna as he searches for a suitable rooftop in the area in the south of town, that Brossic has pointed to.
"I'm not sure" replies the lowland mercenary, who continues with "It's been years since we've used it".
The safe house in question, was first used by Sharnd and Brossic a decade ago. The two of them worked together first, before they first met Grunna a couple of years later. Then two years after that, the three of them met the two mercenaries from the port town of Gilsom, Halnard and Spranen.
The safe house, a small abode owned by Sharnd, was used for storing stolen goods when he and Brossic first started working together.
And where they had clandestine meetings with others they hired, when they first started out in the life of mercenaries who aren't above doing illegal jobs to earn money.
It's also where Brossic used to live whenever he came to Falmare. Until they decided it was best for him to stay in the more pricey inns here in Falmare.
But more for the reason that Sharnd who had brought a house nearby, didn't want any of the locals to figure out that a lot of the illegal activity in town, and in parts of the surrounding lowlands, was planned and operated from a small house, just a few streets from his home, in the southern part of Falmare.
"Just head there anyway" says Brossic to Grunna, then the flatland mercenary who leads the group of five who want to carve out a nation of their own in the Maldin Hills, adds "And when we get there, you can fix this damn nose of mine".
Then nodding at the unconscious Spranen on his right shoulder, and the dazed looking Halnard standing next to him, Brossic says "And these two as well".
Grunna grunts, then after finding a suitable rooftop to teleport them all to.
The sorcerer steps back closer to the others, and stops holding his power within himself.
Brossic breathes a sigh of relief as suddenly the pain in his face disappears after Grunna casts a quick healing spell on it.
Then the four of them, the lowlander, the two mercenaries from the port town of Gilsom, and the sorcerer from further down the coast disappear as Grunna teleports them away.
As they stood upon the rooftop they just disappeared from. They were oblivious to the fact that a couple hundred feet above them.
A raptor, in this instance a small hawk. Was circling above them, watching and listening to everything they said and did.
The raptor circles once more so that it's facing south, and starts winging it's way to where Grunna the sorcerer, and those with him, have just teleported to.
Further north in Falmare, still on the east side of the large town. Saanea the witch nods her head, and opens her eyes after briefly watching through the eyes of her familiar.
The pretty looking hillwoman hurries down the lane she's in, and turns left onto a street.
The spellcaster from the Maldin Hills, uses a spell to increase her running speed, and she's quickly down to the other end of the street.
Where people frown, and look in her direction, as they wonder why she's running so fast on such a warm summer's day, here in the large lowland town of Falmare.
The witch from the nearby hill country which is just over twenty miles to the east.
Turns right into a side street, where she spots the young field commander Tamric Drubine, and Shur Kee the monk.
Saanea who sees that Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group.
Has an unconscious person draped over his right shoulder. It's the lowland merchant Sharnd.
And that the nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, and the short, statured monk from the far east coast of the continent, where his homeland of Wah Lee is located.
Are speaking with a pair of town guards. Some of the few town guards that the pretty looking hillwoman has actually seen, since arriving here in Falmare a little earlier today.
As she approaches them, Saanea the witch hears Tamric Drubine the field commander say to the town guards "He's had too much to drink today, so we're taking him home" followed by "He could never handle his booze".
The two guards, who if they looked closely, might actually recognise the unconscious Sharnd, as the local merchant is quite well know in parts of town. Especially in the south and the east of Falmare.
Waves them along, and one of them says "Get him out of here" followed by "We don't need another drunk lying on the streets of town during the day".
Field commander Drubine nods to that, and says "We'll just do that" as he and Shur Kee walk towards Saanea the witch, who joins them.
The three of them head back along the side street, in the direction the pretty looking hillwoman has just come from.
As they walk, the young field commander in the armies of Farque quietly asks "Are they watching us?".
"No friend Tam" is the quiet reply from Shur Kee the monk after he glances back behind them.
The acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li, continues with "They have gone the other way, and have turned onto the street there".
"At least that's something" murmurs the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who with ease, carriers the unconscious local merchant Sharnd over his right shoulder.
Tam who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque, looks at the spellcaster from the Maldin Hills, who he's attracted to, and asks her "The others?" followed by "Do you know where they've gone to?".
As he guesses that they too, have fled the large heavily armoured knight, sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
"Into the south of town" says Saanea the witch, who continues on with "To the neighbourhood where his house is" as she nods at the unconscious lowlander over the right shoulder of the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
"There's a place near his home, that they hope to use" adds the pretty looking hillwoman as they make their way out of the side street, and turn right to the south.
"At least we know where they're going" quietly says the young field commander in the armies of Farque.
Who then says "They'll find them too, they're a resourceful bunch" in response to Saanea asking him "Will the others be able to find them?". Referring to sir Percavelle Lé Dic, Dorc da Orc and Lisell Maera the messenger.
Also in the east of the town, though further in towards the middle of town. Lisell Maera the messenger who has just hopped down from the last rooftop in a row of houses.
Hurries over to a nearby statue, and climbs up onto the base of it as she looks away to the south in the sky.
The attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury jumps down off the statue after catching sight of Saanea's familiar in the sky above Falmare, further to the south.
The messenger, or runner as they're sometimes referred to as. Who is in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque. Hurries off in that direction, making her way towards the southern part of town.
The long legged, athletic and attractive looking young woman, who is moving at a steady jog.
Keeps looking away to her left, into lanes, side streets and streets. Towards streets in that direction that are also going into the south of Falmare.
Lisell Maera or Lis as more often than not, she's called by the others in the group. Suspects she'll spot either Dorc da Orc or sir Percavelle Lé Dic in that direction.
Though the attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands, suspects it'll be the large ork she'll spot first.
Due to the former paladin being out infront, and ahead of her and the ork warleader.
It's not long before Lis hustles down some steps in a narrow lane, and in the street she runs out into, she dodges around some goblins carrying wooden boxes. Which no doubt will hit the ground soon, as goblins tend to be accident prone.
The messenger in the armies of Farque looks away to her left, and down a side street, at the other end of which she spots a curving street that goes south.
The attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury spots someone go by on the curving street at a jog, who glances in her direction.
The messenger or runner as they're often referred to, turns into the side street, and picks up the pace, breaking out into a sprint.
She runs out of the side street, and into the wider curving one, where she turns right.
Lisell Maera quickly catches up to the person she spotted, and asks "You know where they are?".
"Yeah" is the grunted reply from Dorc da Orc as he jogs along the curving street, that strengthens out just before a square.
"Do fucken you?" asks the large ork with a glance down at the messenger beside him.
After glancing up into the sky to the south, where she spots Saanea the witch's familiar, the attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands says "Yeah i do".
Lis who being so close to the ork warleader, has her sense of smell assaulted from the stench coming off him.
Is glad about one thing running alongside the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
As the people on the streets get quickly out of way of the large ork. Who will run over anyone and anything that gets in his path.
As they enter the square, and run through it, and a donkey that's pulling a cart full of vegetables takes off in fright at the sight of the warleader of the ork race.
Lis asks the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks "Where's Percy?".
There's a look of absolute disgust upon the face of Dorkindle as he glances down at the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury.
Though the ork, who is a general in the armies of Farque does say "That fucken cunt, is that way" as he nods his big, boofy head in the direction the two of them are going.
Lisell Maera nods her head, relieved to know that the former paladin is more or less going in the right direction.
As for sir Percavelle Lé Dic himself, it's more out of blind luck, and pure chance that he's heading in the right direction as he chases after those he and the rest of the group have been after, since running across them firstly up in the Maldin Hills. Then up the coast in the port town of Gilsom, now here in the lowlands, in the town of Falmare.
The nobleborn knight who is member of the order of Knights of Saint Mar-che. Who tends not to listen to what the others are discussing, especially when it doesn't involve him.
Actually does recall a conversation between Tamric Drubine the field commander, and Saanea the witch before the group made their way into town.
And how the merchant they're after, a fellow by the name of Sharnd if sir Percavelle Lé Dic recalls correctly.
Has a home in the south of the town of Falmare. So that's the way the large, heavily armoured knight is going.
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in the eastern part of the kingdom of Druvic. Just hopes his bitter rival Dorc da Orc doesn't find the mercenaries before he does.
"Can't have that big, filthy beast getting them, wot" sir Percavelle Lé Dic loudly murmurs to himself as he runs through the streets and lanes in the southern half of the town of Falmare.
"It is i, the great sir Percavelle who fought them" states the former paladin, who continues on with "So it is i who should finish them off, wot".
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, then mutters "Not that foul smelling green demon" as he continues through the south of Falmare, in search for those he's already attacked this warm summer's day here in the lowlands between the Maldin Hills to the east, and the coast of the Southlands to the west . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 67.

Summer. The Town Of Falmare In The Lowlands.

After she briefly stops holding her power within herself. Saanea the witch glances around the corner and winces as she sees another of the mercenaries go flying backwards through the air after sir Percavelle Lé Dic hits him.
The spellcaster from the Maldin Hills watches as the sorcerer named Grunna, grab the mercenary Brossic, and disappear.
They reappear just thirty feet away, where the other two mercenaries are. Halnard who stands there looking more than a little dizzy, as he looks at Spranen who lies unconscious in the middle of street.
And as sir Percavelle Lé Dic walks towards them, the four of them disappear as Grunna teleports them away.
The pretty looking hillwoman closes her eyes. And looks through the eyes of her familiar. Which is in the form of a raptor. Flying over the eastern part of the town of Falmare.
The witch from the Maldin Hills nods her head. And she opens her eyes and looks out onto the street, where she sees the heavily armoured knight looking back towards the yard she's in.
"That way!" calls out Saanea the witch who points away to her left down the street.
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che nods his full helmed head.
Then he takes off running in the direction he was heading towards anyway.
Saanea runs back through the yard between the two buildings, to a lane that runs behind the row of buildings, parallel to the street where the former paladin confronted the mercenaries they've been chasing.
The witch turns into the lane, heading in the same direction that Tamric Drubine the field commander and Shur Kee the monk took off in.
The two of them went this way, when the merchant Sharnd took off as the others tried to attack sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
Meanwhile, on a rooftop nearby. Lisell Maera the messenger stands up after shooting off another bolt from her crossbow.
The latest hired mercenary she's hit, lies to the side of Sharnd the merchant's shop.
While four others she shot, lie dead or dying, in the courtyard behind the merchant's shop.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury rolls her eyes, as she hears another loud roar.
Then sees Dorc da Orc run from the back of the small warehouse that's across the courtyard behind the merchant's shop.
By the looks of it, the large ork who is back to normal, and no longer under the illusion spell that Saanea the witch cast upon him.
Must of missed the back door, and run right through the back wall, if the bits of wood falling off of him is anything to go by.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, biffs away a headless body he's got in his right hand.
It's one of the mercenaries that the five who have plans to create their own nation up in the Maldin Hills, have hired to help bring about those plans.
The ork warleader along with Lisell Maera have killed all of those hired mercenaries and pirates who were either in the courtyard behind Sharnd the merchant's trading shop, or surrounding the small warehouse that's on the otherside of the courtyard.
As the ork weaponsmith heads through the lane that those they're after took off down a little earlier.
Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by those who know her well. Who knows that Dorkindle will easily follow those they're after, due to his sense of smell, and his enhanced hearing.
Looks around as she stands there on the rooftop, on one of the buildings here in the eastern part of the town of Falmare.
The messenger in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque looks towards all the nearby streets from her vantage point on the roof.
The attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands, whose mother was a street prostitute in Brattonbury, and whose father, who she never knew or met, was a sailor.
Frowns as she looks around, hoping to spot those they're after, as well as the others in the group, who she knows are nearby.
Lis then looks up in the clear sky on this warm summer's day here in this part of the lowlands, that lie between the Maldin Hills to the east, and the coast to the west.
The messenger, or runner as they're sometimes referred to. Spots an unlikely looking bird circling over the eastern part of the town of Falmare.
It's a raptor of some kind. A falcon, or a small hawk of some type.
Not the kind of bird you'd expect to find circling above such a large town like Falmare.
Lisell Maera nods when she watches it for a few moments. Then the attractive looking young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury. Leaps over to the roof to her right. As she starts making her way to where the raptor, Saanea's familiar is circling over this part, the eastern part of the town of Falmare.
Elsewhere in the eastern part of the lowland town. Tamric Drubine the field commander looks down a laneway as he and Shur Kee the monk find themselves in this part of town.
The two of them, the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, and the short, statured monk from the far east coast of the continent.
Made their way from the yard they're were waiting in with Saanea the witch as sir Percavelle Lé Dic confronted those they're after.
For the simple reason that the merchant Sharnd took off when the others he's planning on creating a nation of their own up in the Maldin Hills.
Were busy fighting the former paladin. Doing a bad job at it too. As the large, heavily armoured knight was taking care of the others with relative ease.
Looking down the laneway, Tamric Drubine the field commander nods his head, then says "There he goes" as he sees Sharnd the merchant run by the other end of the lane.
The nobleborn teenager who is the son and former heir to a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin, then adds "Let's go".
And takes off running down the street to their left. The physical adept who is a member of the order of Bru Li, a philosophical and spiritual order based in, and predominantly practiced in the kingdom of Wah Lee, which is all the way on the otherside of the continent.
Easily keeps pace with the taller, and younger man as they make their way through the east part of Falmare.
"He's heading to his home" says field commander Drubine as he runs. Next to him, the holy man from the far east coast of the continent, nods in agreement.
The field commander, a senior officer in the armies of Farque knows that Sharnd's house is in the south of the town. And that the merchant is running that way, as he flees sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, points up ahead to their right, where there's a side street.
Shur Kee, who is the living conduit of the Jade Warrior, Bru Li. Nods in understanding as he runs alongside the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The two of them run around a horse drawn wagon that's moving slowly along the street. People stop and watch them as they run by.
Then the field commander in the armies of Farque, and the short, statured monk, run into the side street.
Tam leaps over a wooden crate infront of a shop door, while Shur Kee runs around it.
The young field commander picks up the pace, and with his longer legs, he quickly gets ahead of the acolyte in the order of Bru Li.
Field commander Drubine as he runs has got his eyes on the street at the end of the side street he's on.
Tam picks up the pace again as he sees a figure come into view, stopping after running, who looks back in the direction he's come from, as he leans over, breathing heavily, trying to get his breath back.
The young field commander in the armies of Farque, near the end of the side street, jumps forward, and dive tackles the figure bent over, breathing heavily. Who turns at the last moment, when he hears someone approaching quickly along the side street.
Smashing him to the ground in a tackle, Tamric Drubine rolls on top of Sharnd the merchant, and says "Going somewhere?".
Tam gets up, and with the aid of Shur Kee the monk, hauls the groaning lowlander to his feet.
The physical adept from the far east coast of the continent, throws a short, soft punch, right between the eyes of Sharnd, knocking the flatland merchant out.
Field commander Drubine picks the smaller local man up, and puts him over his right shoulder. Then he and the acolyte in the order of Bru Li, hurry back into the side street as quickly as they can.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic who is heading south through the eastern part of the town of Falmare, stops in a square.
And behind the faceplate of his full helm, the heavily armoured knight narrows his eyelids as he looks across to the southern side of the square, and the street that leads off it.
The former paladin, who is a member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che, makes his way quickly over to a row of stalls, where street vendors, are selling mostly food, on this warm summer's day in this part of the lowlands, that lie between the Maldin Hills and the coast of the Southlands.
"I say good merchants, you haven't seen a purveyor of the dark arts, those you know as spellcasters" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who quickly adds "In the company of three other fellows, all lickspittle common mercenaries, one of whom might of been unconscious, because of yours truly, wot".
"Er?" says more than a few of the stall holders and their customers, who couldn't exactly understand the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic, who hardly ever speaks in a clear and concise fashion. As he tends to elaborate a bit too much, even when he's in a hurry.
Fortunately for the large, heavily armoured knight, one of the stall holders did understand what he just said, and says "A magic user?" followed by "And four fighters?".
"That's right my good chap, they're the ones" says the former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in the east of the kingdom of Druvic.
The stall holder nods, then points up to a rooftop on the southside of the square, and says "They were just up there, a short time ago, then they disappeared".
A few of the other stall holders, and some of the customers agree with him. As they too saw the four in question briefly appear on the building at the southeast corner of the square.
"Now which way did those villains go?" the nobleborn knight mutters to himself.
Then sir Percavelle Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by the others in the group. With the exception of Dorc da Orc, who calls him cunt, or knight cunt.
Knows a little bit about magic, especially when it's something that will benefit him.
But he does know that a spellcaster has to see where he's teleporting to, so he asks the stall holders and their customers "Which way were they facing?" quickly followed by "To where were they looking too?" he then adds a quick "Wot".
The same stall holder who spoke before, says "To the south" as he clearly remembers those on top of the roof at the southeast corner of the square, didn't look down into the square, but looked away to the south across the town of Falmare.
"Verily" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who then takes off running to the south across the square.
The large, heavily armoured knight who is a member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
Is quickly onto the street that leads away to the south from the square. As he continues to pursue those he and the rest of the group have chased from the Maldin Hills, then up the coast to the port town of Gilsom, now down here in the lowlands, to the town of Falmare.
On a street in the eastern part of the town, Dorc da Orc stops and repeatedly sniffs.
Ignoring a townswoman who has just stepped outside, then screamed at the sight of him, before hurrying back inside, and slamming the door to her house shut.
The large ork grunts, then sets off again. The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, has got the scent of those he and the rest of the group are after.
The ork warleader, who doesn't particularly like running after those he's pursing, especially on such a warm summer's day here in the lowlands that lie to the west of the Maldin Hill country.
Breaks out into a jog, and steadily increases his speed, as he's also caught the scent of the others in the group.
And though he's smelled the scent of both Tamric Drubine and Shur Kee the monk, who by the smells of things, have caught one of those they're after.
The local merchant Sharnd, not that the ork weaponsmith remembers the name of the flatland merchant.
He's also caught the scent of the newest member of the group, Saanea the witch, who is moving quickly through the eastern part of the large town, as she pursues those they've been after since running across them in a village up in the Maldin Hills at the start of the week.
The large ork grumbles and mutters something in the incomprehensible language of his race about spellcasters and their ability to move quickly when they want to.
Dorkindle, who smells Lisell Maera, a few streets somewhere away to his right, more or less heading in the same direction he's heading.
Isn't really worried about where the others in the group are. With the exception of one of them.
That being his bitter rival, sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who is further south of him in this part of Falmare. Closer to where those who they've been chasing, currently are.
The ork who is a general in the armies of Farque doesn't want the former paladin getting to them before he does.
"Can't have that cunt knight have all fucken fun" mutters Dorc da Orc, who is only running because he wants to get to those they're after before the former earl of Lé Dic can confront them again.
The large ork spots two men walk from a lane. And while the people on the street back away, when they see the ork weaponsmith running in their direction.
These two walk straight out into the street, slightly unsteady on their feet, a sure sign that they've been drinking today.
Dorkindle who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, frowns as he looks at the two men.
Then he grins as he recognises them. Or to be exact, he recognises what they are.
They're sailors, specifically coastal raiders, or pirates. Not exactly who'd you expect to find in a lowland town, more than fifteen miles from the coast.
"Get some!" shouts Dorc da Orc as the two pirates, finally see him running straight towards them.
And before they can react, the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world. Runs into them, knocking them both to the ground with force. And tramples on them, as he continues on his way.
The warleader of the ork race chortles a deep growling chortle as he runs, knowing that he's just killed two more of those who have been hired by the five who have plans of creating a nation of their own up in the Maldin Hills.
The large ork rounds a corner, and cuts across a street, and enters a lane. As he goes more or less in a straight line through the eastern part of Falmare, towards where those he and the others are after.
The ork general just hopes he gets to them before his bitter rival sir Percavelle Lé Dic finds them.
"It's Dorc's turn to have some fucken fun" Dorkindle murmurs to himself.
As the fifteen or so hired mercenaries and pirates he's killed already, in around the small warehouse across the back courtyard behind Sharnd the merchant's shop.
And the two he's just trampled to death a couple streets behind him. Are just the warm up, so to speak, for the day. As he really wants to kill those he and the rest of the group have chased all the way from the Maldin Hills, to up the coast in the port town of Gilsom, to currently down here in the lowlands, and the town of Falmare . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 66.

Summer. The Southlands. The Lowlands. The Town Of Falmare.

Grunna the sorcerer leads the way through the lane, followed by Sharnd the merchant and the others.
A couple of people step out of doorways to see what's happening as the sound of another roar comes from nearby.
They pop back inside when they see the sorcerer, merchant and armed mercenaries hurry by.
"Careful" says Brossic the mercenary from where he's behind Sharnd the merchant.
"That troll, or whatever it was, wasn't alone the last two times" adds the lowland mercenary referring to the times previously, in the port town of Gilsom, and up in the Maldin Hills, where they've run into trouble.
As he leads the way, with a ward up infront of him, the sorcerer Grunna nods his head.
Then when they reach the end of the lane, the powerful spellcaster from further down the coast of the Southlands, stops at the corner of a building, and looks out onto the street they've come to.
Both Sharnd and Brossic come up beside the sorcerer, and look out onto the street too.
While behind them, the mercenaries Spranen and Halnard, both from the port town of Gilsom look back down the lane, in the direction they've come from.
The two of them hear fighting that way, towards the small warehouse they were just in, which lies across a courtyard, behind Sharnd's trading shop.
The mercenaries from the coastal town of Gilsom glance at one another, as they hear another roar, followed by an incoherent shout in a language they don't understand.
"Looks okay" quietly says Sharnd the merchant, as they see just a few people on the street. A couple away to their right, heading that way, leading a cart and pony.
While away to their left, a man is carrying a barrel into a shop. There's a stack of the small barrels infront of the shop.
"Looks can be deceiving" quietly says Brossic the mercenary, who then looks at Grunna, and he asks the sorcerer from further down the coast "Anything?".
"Nothing magical" is the quiet reply of Grunna the sorcerer, who is sensing, and doesn't find any spellcasters in the immediate vicinity.
Though the sorcerer is one of the five who have plans to carve out their own nation up in the Maldin Hills, which lie just over twenty miles to the east.
Slightly frowns as he says that, as he feels something nearby, he's just not sure what.
"Which way?" asks Brossic the mercenary as be looks at Sharnd "Right?" adds the lowlander who leads the group of five who have the goal of creating their own nation in the Maldin Hills.
"Right" says the flatland merchant with a nod of his head.
"Let's go then" says Brossic, who briefly pauses as they hear another roar from somewhere behind them, back near the small warehouse they were just in.
"And keep alert" continues the lowland mercenary to the others.
Grunna the sorcerer hurries out onto the street, turning right, followed by the others.
They don't get far, just a few steps, when someone shouts from behind them "Villains!" followed by "Stay your ground!".
The five of them spin around, and see a large heavily armoured knight walk out onto the street, from what appears to be a yard between two of the buildings back that way on the street.
They've encountered this knight before, first up in the Maldin Hills, when they were attacked by a small group of strangers, whilst attacking one of the villages they had targeted in the hill country.
And more recently, in the port town of Gilsom. Where their airship, that belongs to Sharnd. Was in the dock yards for repairs. Where it was destroyed by a fire.
The large knight, standing a couple inches over six foot. In a full suit, of shining heavy plate armour, that gleams in the sunshine of this warm summer's day. Who has a brilliant white cape attached to the roundrels on his armoured shoulder plates.
Comes to a stop, and stands in the middle of the quiet street, here on the east side of Falmare.
Pointing a short blade at them, while he holds a large footman's shield up on his left arm.
Even with the faceplate of his full helm down. And unable to see his face. There's an obvious air of confidence to the knight.
Brossic slightly frowns as he looks at the sigil on the knight's shield and white surcoat which he can see clearly this time, compared to their previous encounters, then he nods and quietly says to the others "Saint Mar-che".
The lowlander who leads the five of them, who in his life of a mercenary, has encountered many a knight, adds "Religious nutters".
Grunna, nods as he too has encountered those from the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che. Fighting alongside them, and against them in battles and wars.
The sorcerer, who didn't act immediately, because the last time he did in Gilsom, when they ran into the knight, he was knocked out after casting on him.
Looks carefully at the large heavily armoured knight, in particular the short blade he's pointing at them, as well as the large footman's shield he's carrying.
The spellcaster from further south down the coast slightly frowns as he senses again. Not quite sensing anything, but getting a nagging feeling he should be sensing something.
Grunna then senses for something specific, in this instance, magical items. And he immediately senses them.
He's taken by surprise that both the short blade, and the shield the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che has.
Not just because both are magical items, but because of how powerful they are. Especially the large footman's shield. Which without doubt, is the most powerful thing the sorcerer has ever encountered.
So much so, that Grunna has to stop sensing for items, as it's so powerful, that it will overwhelm his senses if he keeps sensing it.
"Fuck me" mutters the sorcerer Grunna who realises what power the knight's shield has.
"What?" hisses Sharnd the merchant.
"I can't cast against him" quietly says the spellcaster from further down the coast of the Southlands, who quickly adds "I'm surprised i didn't die the last time i did up in Gilsom".
As his own blast spell rebounded off the knight's magical shield, and came back and hit him, knocking him unconscious, which would of killed him if hadn't slammed up some wards.
The ward Grunna has up now, would be torn to shreds if he was to cast a similar blast spell at the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che right now.
Who speaks again, in what can only be described as an arrogant, aristocrated sounding voice "Well are you dastardly cowards just going to stand there, or will you pluck up what cowardly courage you have, and attack me?" followed after a brief pause, with "Wot".
Spranen and Halnard glance at one another, when Brossic murmurs to the others "Think we can take him?".
As Sharnd the merchant steps back out of the way, and Spranen and Halnard step forward, the slightly older of the two mercenaries from the port town of Gilsom, Spranen quietly says "I don't know".
While next to him, Halnard the most cautious of the five of them, is of the opinion they shouldn't confront the knight.
Though right now, might be the best time to actually get rid of him once and for all. Especially as he's alone at the moment.
"If we're going to do something, hurry up and do it the hell now" quietly says Halnard the mercenary as they hear another roar from back near the small warehouse where they were previously.
"This might be our best chance" quietly adds Halnard.
"I agree" quietly says Sharnd the merchant from behind the others, where he's willing to run away, just to stay safe incase the others can't deal with the large heavily armoured knight, who just stands there on the street, looking at them.
"Try and hit him with something if you can" Brossic murmurs to Grunna.
"I'll try" quietly says the powerful sorcerer who is from further down the coast of the Southlands.
Then Brossic who leads them, quickly glances at Spranen and Halnard, and slightly nods.
The three of them who have fought together in many a fight and battle, move forward.
While the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che just stands there. Shield raised, while still pointing the short blade at them.
As Brossic, Halnard and Spranen rush forward. Grunna looks at the stack of barrels that a shopkeeper was in the middle of carrying into his shop.
The sorcerer goes to levitate them, and fling them at the large, heavily armoured knight standing in the middle of the street.
When he suddenly senses a spellcaster close by. Infact in the same yard, between the two buildings, that the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che walked from.
"Trap!" shouts Grunna the sorcerer, as he realises that the attack upon their hired mercenaries at the small warehouse, was all to lead them here, to a well orchestrated trap.
The sorcerer who senses that it's a witch close by. Most likely the same witch amongst those they encountered up in the Maldin Hills.
Goes to cast in that direction instead, towards the yard that can just be glimpsed between two buildings.
As he does, something swoops down out of the bright sunny sky, and rakes across the side of his face and head. Avoiding his ward, which is infront of him, and not all around him.
Grunna stumbles sideways and trips, yelping in fright, nearly knocking over Sharnd the merchant. The sorcerer puts up a hand to the side of his face and head. His hand comes away bloody, as he looks quickly up into the sky, trying to spot what struck him.
Meanwhile the mercenaries, Brossic, Spranen and Halnard have rushed the knight. And the three of them, who know how to attack in unison. Strike at the large heavily armoured knight who is just standing there.
Suddenly the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che moves. Much quicker than one would expect for someone so large, and heavily armoured.
Brossic in the middle of swinging his sword, gets the large footman's shield thrust in his face.
Smashing into the front of the lowland mercenary, sending him staggering backwards with a bloody face, and a broken nose.
He knows it's broken, as he's had a broken nose a couple of times in the past. And it hurts like hell, just like it did those two times in the past.
Spranen who fights with a hand and half sword, or bastard sword. Goes to whack the heavily armoured knight. Going for the taller man's head.
He ends up getting kicked in the right knee by one of the knight's steel boots even as he swings his bastard sword towards the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che.
Spranen yells "Fuck!" in pain as he stumbles away, hoping his knee isn't broken from that kick. He grimaces in pain as he puts weight on his right leg.
While Halnard, the most cautious of the five of them who have plans of creating their own nation up in the Maldin Hills. Who heard Grunna's warning that it's a trap.
Waits until the large, heavily armoured knight confronts Brossic and Spranen. And when the two of them stagger and stumble away.
The mercenary from the coastal town of Gilsom acts. Halnard, shoves his shortsword at the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che.
Aiming up at the eye slot in the visor of the knight's full helm.
Unfortunately Halnard gets too close. And the large heavily armoured knight, who is far quicker than one would expect. Just punches out with his right gauntleted hand. The one holding the blade that slightly resembles a shortsword, or a long dagger.
Just the point of the blade touches Halnard, right in the middle of his heavy leather jerkin. It doesn't penetrate it, or cut through the armour. It doesn't have to.
Halnard hears the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che say "Cheerio there chap" just before the mercenary from the port town of Gilsom. Is lifted up off the ground, and goes flying backwards through the air.
Narrowly missing Sharnd the merchant, who yelps "Fuck" as Halnard comes flying backwards a good thirty five to forty feet.
The flatland merchant, whose hometown is here in Falmare. Ducks down as Halnard passes over him. Before the mercenary from the coastal town of Gilsom hits the ground with a very clear, audible groan.
Sharnd who takes Grunna's warning to heart. Helps the sorcerer to stand upright, then shouts "Run!".
As he sees the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che advance on Spranen who is attempting to stagger away, limping as he does so.
The lowland merchant turns and runs down the street, leaving behind Grunna, as well as Spranen and Brossic who are closer to the large heavily armoured knight.
Sharnd runs by Halnard, who though dazed, is trying to get up off the ground, even though it's clear he's more than a little groggy, and doesn't exactly know where he is.
Grunna shakes his head, looks around and sees Sharnd who helped him to stand, running away down the street, while Halnard is on the ground trying to get up.
The sorcerer looks quickly the other way, and sees the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che walking towards Spranen who is stumbling away, who looks like he's having trouble putting weight on his right leg.
While Brossic, with a bloody nose and face, has staggered to his feet, and is stumbling this way.
Grunna looks quickly towards the yard between the two buildings that the knight walked from.
And he frowns as he no longer senses the witch he briefly sensed earlier. The spellcaster from down the coast of the Southlands, goes to cast anyway.
When suddenly, Spranen who is using his bastard sword to help himself walk. Turns as the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che reaches him, and clearly says "Enjoy the trip there fellow".
Spranen comes flying backwards along the street, going by the stumbling Brossic. Almost hitting Grunna who ducks to one side. Before landing on the ground, not far from where Halnard has got to his feet, who is looking around trying to figure out what's just happened to him.
"Fuck this" says Brossic as he stumbles back to where Grunna is as the large, heavily armoured knight walks this way.
"I agree" says the spellcaster from further down the coast of the Southlands, who grabs Brossic by the arm, and teleports.
The sorcerer doesn't teleport very far, just thirty feet or so. To where a confused looking Halnard, who has got to his feet, grimacing in pain. Is looking at the unconscious Spranen who is lying on the ground beside him, wondering how his fellow mercenary from the port town of Gilsom ended up lying in the middle of the street.
"We're out of here" says Grunna the sorcerer who looks back and sees the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che walking with purpose towards them.
The spellcaster then teleports himself, Brossic, Halnard and the unconscious Spranen away. Heading in the direction that Sharnd the merchant took off in . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 65.

Summer. The Otherside Of The Continent.

Jarjin Littlefoot the halfling kicks at the dusty and dry ground, and looks down the street.
Well, street is too generous of a word for it. As it's more like a pathway that goes through this part of the town.
The hobbit who is a former air sailor in the fleet of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Looks up to his right at the figure in the black hooded cloak standing next to him.
Mira Reinholt the mage looks down at the small figure of the halfling next to him. Who like him is a member of the personal council to lord Farque.
The spellcaster who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster, shrugs his shoulders in reply to the inquiring look from the hobbit.
"Not much in the way of a town" quietly says Jarjin Littlefoot the halfling in the elven language.
The mage Reinholt, who is from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands, nods his hooded head in agreement.
"That's for sure" quietly says Mira Reinholt the mage in the same language as they watch a lone donkey cross the street up ahead of them.
The animal walks slowly, without bothering to look in their direction, before it disappears behind a building.
"Hell, and this is supposed to be busier than those other places we've flown over" quietly says the hobbit who isn't exactly what he seems.
As he's really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of Jarjin Littlefoot.
"Apparently" says the once powerful mage, who momentarily pauses as he looks around, then he adds "Though you wouldn't think so by looking at it".
The former air sailor in the fleet of the Sultanate of Dreese nods his head in agreement with the exiled Vexilian mage.
They're in a border town. The border between the Sultanate of Dreese and the kingdom of Yandiv.
They're on the southern side, the Dreese side of the border, apparently. Though you wouldn't really know, as no one actually knows where the exact border is between the Sultanate, and the kingdom to it's immediate north.
They've gone inland compared to where they were previously. And the airship the Quick Gull has put down just outside of the town. As the captain and some of the crew of the small, fast vessel that was until very recently, in the Sultanate's fleet. Are picking up supplies for the monumental journey westwards, to the otherside of the continent, to the Southlands.
The group with the exception of lord Farque have disembarked too. And they are wandering around the town.
Which is the largest settlement they've come across so far. Though with the lack of people out and about, you wouldn't think so.
"It's not as though it's a really hot day, and the heat would drive people indoors" quietly says Jarjin Littlefoot as he and his fellow council member, the mage Reinholt wander through the border town.
Nodding his hooded head in agreement with the halfling walking beside him, Mira Reinholt says "I guess they just don't like outsiders".
The hobbit, who previously served in the Sultan of Dreese's airfleet, grunts in agreement as they continue through town.
Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman then nods, and quietly says "Might as well".
When they round a corner, and the highly skilled swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil, points away to the left along the new street they've turned onto, where a small tavern is located.
There's actually a couple of people sitting in the shade of the veranda that's out infront of the tavern.
The hobbit and the mage sit at another table beneath the covered veranda. Nodding in greeting to the two men at one of the other tables.
Who nod in reply, before getting back to their quiet conversation. Occasionally glancing at the two out of towners.
Eventually the tavern keeper notices Jarjin Littlefoot and Mira Reinholt, and he hurries outside to take their order.
They both order beer, and as they wait for their drinks to arrive, the exiled Vexilian mage slightly nods, when the former air sailor quietly tells him in elven "They're talking about us".
Referring to the two townsmen at the other table, who are speaking in the local dialect of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Which is also the language most frequently used in the kingdom of Yandiv, especially in the south of the kingdom.
As the common language is more often than not, the secondary language in both nations.
"They probably won't know for weeks that they no longer have a Sultan" quietly says councillor Littlefoot.
"Or the likelihood that they've got a new one" quietly says the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation, to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
"That's true" murmurs the halfling who is from here, the mainland of Dreese. Though from much further south, in the more densely populated central region of the Sultanate.
"How do you think he did?" quietly asks Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson, referring to the Viceroy of Dreese.
"Who knows" states the mage Reinholt, who after a brief pause, continues with "But he could be the new Sultan for all we know".
The spellcaster who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster, then adds "If he is, he'll be a hell of a lot better than that asshole brother of his".
The hobbit from further south in the Sultanate of Dreese nods his head in agreement.
Then falls silent as the tavern keeper comes back out with two mugs of beer.
Jarjin aka Zubutai the son of Timagin wryly smiles as he sees that the beer looks to be lukewarm.
"Thanks" says the former air sailor when he lifts his mug and finds it cold.
"No problem" says Mira Reinholt who just cast a quick spell on both mugs "I can't stand warm beer" adds the once powerful mage.
As the Vexilian mage in exile, and the halfling who previously served in the Sultanate's airfleet enjoy their beer as they sit beneath the covered veranda infront of the tavern.
Elsewhere in the border town, Beldane the cleric and Tovis the war engineer have stopped to look at some stock in a stone corral, behind some of the houses on one side of the town.
There's a large tent like structure over the corral, protecting the stock from the equatorial sunshine.
Most of which are asleep as a couple of youngsters keep an eye on them. And the two out of towners standing near the stock pens.
Tovis the war engineer gestures away to their right, and Beldane the cleric spots Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy standing at the corner of a building.
The young engineer from the kingdom of Druvic, and the spellcaster from the kingdom of Nastell. Two nations that lie faraway to the west, on the otherside of the continent, in the Southlands.
Walk over to where the tall elf in the gray hooded cloak is standing.
"Where's his highness?" quietly asks Tovis the war engineer "Gone back to the ship" replies Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy as the three of them look around at their surrounds.
Then the spy who is from the elven principality of Alínlae in the Southlands, nods his hooded head to one side and says "Come on, there's a tavern around the corner here" followed by "Let's get a drink".
After nodding, Tovis says "Alright" then he adds "Just as long as Beldane makes it cold".
"I will" says Beldane the cleric, who continues with "I don't particularly like warm drinks on a hot day too". As the three of them head around a corner, and make their way to a nearby tavern.
As they walk along what's basically an empty street, the cleric who is in the church of Glaine quietly says "Not a very busy town is it?".
"They're not all that open to outsiders" quietly says Dalinvardél Tanith who is more commonly called Dalin by the others in the group.
"When they saw the Quick Gull approach, most of them went inside to their homes and shops" adds the elven spy who is an officer in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque.
Both Beldane and Tovis nod to that, for as they've wandered through the border town, they've caught sight of people in their homes and businesses, looking out at the two of them as they've walked by.
They reach the tavern, which unlike the one Jarjin Littlefoot and Mira Reinholt are at on the otherside of town, doesn't have a covered veranda.
So the three of them go inside, where they see a couple of people who were sitting at one of the tables, get up and leave, heading out the backdoor.
The three of them all glance at one another, before they take a seat at one of the round tables.
And since they're the only customers at the moment, the serving woman quickly comes to their table and takes their orders.
Returning shortly, with a couple of goblets of white wine, and a mug of beer. All of which Beldane makes cold by way of a spell.
As the three of them enjoy their cold drinks in a tavern on one side of the town. Just outside of the border town, onboard the Quick Gull. Helbe the elven thief watches some of the crew carrying wooden boxes and sacks of goods and supplies back to the airship from the town.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, which lies off the coast of the Southlands, all the way on the otherside of the continent. Watches them for a little while longer, before he heads below deck, and makes his way to aft, to the captain's cabin, which is no longer the captain's.
The highly talented elven magic user knocks on the door and waits, then he opens it when he hears the command to enter. The elven master assassin enters the cabin, and closes the door behind him.
"Sleepy little place" says Helbe the elven thief, who then adds "They don't like outsiders much".
Lord Farque nods his full helmed head as he sits behind the small desk in the cabin.
"They getting the supplies alright?" asks lord Farque "Most of what the captain wants" replies the elven spellcaster who sits on the bench built into one of the cabin walls.
The young elven noble, who is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque then adds "We'll have to stop every couple of days for fresh water".
The heavily armoured deathlord nods his full helmed head, then he stands up, and looks out the open windows along the stern. And looks at the border town behind the Quick Gull.
"Interesting that this place hasn't been attacked like a lot of the places on both sides of the border back along the coast" quietly says the lord of the death realm.
The elven master archer nods his hooded head in agreement, then he says "The captain did say when he and his crew were patrolling out this way a couple of years ago, that the people out here were an individual bunch, willing to fight both the Sultan's forces, and the kingdom of Yandiv's troops".
Lord Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, nods his full helmed head then quietly says "Maybe".
Then he looks back at the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, and asks him "What did you find out?".
The young elven noble from the Southlands, who read the minds of quite a few people in the border town when he was wandering through it with Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy, says "The Sultanate's forces here in the north are a corrupt bunch, doing what they want, and when they want, whenever it pleases them".
The elven princeling continues with "Probably why the Sultan didn't give them to us in the war against the Viceroy" he points to the border town as he adds "Over the last couple of years, they've been supplying the airships of those corrupt crews whenever they stop off" the elven masterthief follows that with "It's why they, and other border towns further west have been left alone".
"Thought it was something like that" quietly says the undead warlord who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means, The Destroyer.
"Well if the Viceroy is victorious out in the islands, and makes himself the new Sultan, he'll have to deal to this here" says the heavily armoured deathlord as he continues to look out at the sleepy looking border town.
Prince Helbenthril Raendril nods his hooded head to that, then he quietly asks the lord and ruler of the lands Farque "And if we run across any of them as we head west out of the Sultanate?" followed by "What do we do?".
"Nothing" replies the undead being, who after a moment's pause, adds "Unless they do something fucking stupid like attack us". Lord Farque turns around and says "That goes for anyone really, just like usual".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel nods his hooded head in agreement to that.
Then after he and the lord of the death realm speak about a few other things. The elven masterthief heads back up on deck. While the undead warlord remains in the cabin.
Eventually the captain and those of his crew who went into town, finally come back with the last of the supplies they could buy in the border town. The cargo hold, along with the cabins are stuffed with goods and produce.
They even have to strap down a number of wooden crates on the deck, as they bought so much stuff for the journey west.
Just a short time later, and the group make their way out of the sleepy looking border town.
With Tovis the war engineer carrying a wooden keg of beer. And Beldane the cleric carrying a small barrel of wine.
After they come onboard. Mira Reinholt the mage and Jarjin Littlefoot the halfling are the last to get back to the Quick Gull.
And once the two of them climb up the cargo netting draped over the starboard side.
The netting is brought up, and stowed away. And lord Farque who is now on deck, tells the captain they can lift off whenever they're ready.
It's not too long before the small, sleek looking vessel that was formerly in the Sultanate's airfleet, infact it was the fastest ship in the fleet.
Has lifted up off the ground, and passes over the sleepy looking border town as it continues on it's long journey westwards, all the way to the otherside of the continent, to the Southlands . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 64.

Summer. In The Lowlands. The Town Of Falmare.

"They'll be in a building across a courtyard, behind a shop" says Tamric Drubine the field commander, next to him, the witch Saanea nods in agreement.
"You got that?" asks the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
"Yeah cunt" is the grunted reply from Dorc da Orc, who at the moment is under an illusion spell that's been cast by Saanea the witch.
"Lis will be on a rooftop nearby, she'll no doubt point it too" adds the young field commander in the armies of Farque as they turn a corner onto another street.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, looks down the street then quickly says to the others "Cross the street" followed by "Hurry".
As he sees a number of men, obviously mercenaries from their attire. Make their way across the far end of the street, and head into a lane.
The group quickly cross the street and walk alongside a row of shops and buildings, without garnering any attention from the mercenaries at the other end of the street. Who have all made their way into the lane down there.
Tam who is out infront now, looks back at the overweight blond, young man behind him and the witch Saanea, and says to him "That's the way to go" followed by "Got it".
A deep grunt is the reply he gets from the large ork beneath the illusion spell.
The spell is good, but it's not good enough to disguise the deep, growling voice of the ork warleader.
Though it's perfect in another way. As the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world doesn't stink like he usually does. Which is definitely an added bonus.
"Go on" quietly says Tam with a nod of his head in the direction of the lane at the far end of the street.
With a grunt, Dorc da Orc in the guise of a rather fat human, moves out infront of the others, and walks quickly down to the other end of the street.
As the ork weaponsmith does so, field commander Drubine looks at the others, and quietly asks them "You know what to do?".
They, being Shur Kee the monk, sir Percavelle Lé Dic, and Saanea the witch all nod their heads in reply to the young field commander in the armies of Farque, who murmurs to himself in the elven language "I hope to fuck this works".
As she lies upon the rooftop on a building near to the shop that's owned by the flatland merchant Sharnd.
Lisell Maera the messenger who has just seen more of the hired mercenaries cross the street, and head around Sharnd's shop, to the building on the otherside of the courtyard there.
Glances down into the lane next to the building she's on where she hears someone whistling, badly and out of tune.
The attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury rolls her eyes, as she has heard that whistling since she was a girl of about eleven.
She shakes her head, and sees a rather large fellow, in his twenties, blond hair, extremely slovenly, and very overweight.
Make his way through the lane to the street that Sharnd the merchant's shop is on.
The messenger in the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque watches as he briefly pauses on this side of the street, sniffing as he does so.
He slightly turns his head, and looks up to the roof that the attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands is lying on.
He grunts when Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by the others in the group, lifts her head up, and quickly looks down at him, before dropping her head back down.
The messenger or runner as they're often referred to, takes hold of her crossbow that's beside her, and lifts it up, and takes aim along the length of it. As she continues to watch the overweight young man down on the street below.
He crosses to the front of the trading shop that's owned by the flatland merchant Sharnd. 
He looks in through the glass window, and then the door that's open on this warm and sunny summer's day in the lowlands. As if contemplating going inside to check out the wares that are for sale in the shop.
He decides not to, and the overweight man in his early twenties, obviously from his colouring and hair colour, is from elsewhere in the Southlands.
Then heads around the shop owned by Sharnd the merchant, to the courtyard behind it.
There's over a dozen hired mercenaries in the back courtyard, just infront of the small warehouse that's behind the trading shop of flatland merchant Sharnd.
And while there's others of them around all sides of the small warehouse, inside of which, their leaders are in a meeting.
Those who are in the courtyard, all turn and look at the fat young man who has just made his way into the back courtyard, after coming around from the street infront of Sharnd's shop.
A few of the hired mercenaries, some of whom are obviously sailors, and from the looks of them, they're likely to be pirates, glance at one another.
Then one of the mercenaries who has been employed by their leaders the longest, asks the overweight fellow who has stopped, and looked at them in surprise "What do you want?".
"To get me stuff" replies Dorc da Orc with a nod of his head towards the small warehouse.
The large ork who forced himself to not swear, which is more difficult than one can imagine.
Also spoke in a high pitched voice, in what he thinks a human sounds like.
Even then, his voice sounds deeper than most men, though not as growling and rumbling as it usually does.
"Gots to hurry, or boss get fuc, er angry" adds the ork warleader who is a general in the armies of Farque.
Who though is under an illusion spell cast by Saanea the witch. To his own eyes, he still looks like he normally does when he catches a glimpse of himself.
The mercenary who spoke looks at another standing next to him, who shrugs his shoulders.
The first one who spoke, then looks at the overweight young man again, and asks him "What do you need from in there?" as be gestures back at the small warehouse.
"Foods" says Dorkindle who beneath the illusion spell he's under, is more than a little annoyed. But on the outside, the illusion looks like it's in a hurry, and wants to get things done.
"He's probably right" quietly says the first mercenary to the one he looked at before.
"See if there's any food in there to be picked up" quietly adds the first mercenary.
"Will do" quietly says the second, who knows that those who have hired them, will be annoyed that they'll be interrupted.
As the second mercenary turns to the side door of the small warehouse, and knocks on it. The other mercenaries in the back courtyard behind Sharnd's shop closely watch the fat fellow standing there, looking like he's impatient to get what he's been told to get, and leave.
"What is it now?" says Brossic the flatland mercenary when one of the hired mercenaries out in the courtyard knocks on the side door again.
"Probably found that young woman" says Spranen the mercenary, who continues with "I'll just go and find out".
The mercenary, one of two in the core group of five, that's from the port town of Gilsom, walks over to the side door and opens it.
The others, Brossic, Halnard, Grunna the sorcerer and Sharnd the merchant. Watch as Spranen speaks with one of the hired mercenaries out in the courtyard.
They see Spranen crane his neck to look at something or someone further out in the courtyard.
Then Spranen looks back at the rest of the group who have plans to carve out their own nation up in the Maldin Hills, and tells them "There's a guy out here to pick up some stuff".
And though Halnard the mercenary, who is the most cautious of them, puts a hand on the hilt of his sword.
Sharnd the mercenary asks Spranen "What kind of stuff?".
"Food, i guess" is the reply of the mercenary from Gilsom at the side door.
Sharnd slightly frowns as he looks around at the shelves in the small warehouse that he owns.
And though he owns it, a number of other businesses in this part of Falmare store goods in the warehouse.
"From the cheese monger perhaps?" murmurs the lowland merchant who lives here in the town of Falmare.
As the only foodstuffs stored in here at this time of year are rounds of cheese.
"What does he look like?" asks Sharnd the merchant.
"Fat fellow" is the reply from Spranen after he glances outside again, then he adds "Young, might be a shop's apprentice by the looks of it, or a journeyman".
Sharnd nods as there is a rather fat young man working for Dahl the cheesemonger nowadays. Though he doesn't know it, but the fat fellow out in the courtyard that Spranen has seen, definitely doesn't work for the nearby cheesemonger.
"Tell him to come back later and pick it up" says Sharnd.
"He looks like he's in a hurry" says Spranen, who continues with "And has said his boss is angry and wants it now".
The lowland merchant slightly frowns, for all the years he has known the cheesemonger Dahl. He's never seen him angry, or seen him angry to any of his workers.
"That doesn't sound like something Dahl would do" murmurs Sharnd the merchant.
"What was that?" asks Brossic the mercenary, who leads the core group of five who have designs on creating a nation of their own up in the Maldin Hill country. "I said" says Sharnd the merchant.
Who doesn't get to finish what he was saying, as suddenly Spranen staggers backwards shouting "Fuck".
As one of the hired mercenaries outside comes flying backwards through the open door.
He couldn't wait any longer as he looked at the open door to the small warehouse. Where he saw one of those they've been after, and have been chasing from the Maldin Hills.
Infact, he remembers seeing this particular mercenary in the village that they and the rest of the mercenaries on their airship attacked.
So Dorc da Orc kicks out, kicking one of the hired mercenaries in the chest.
Who has a stunned look on his face, when such an overweight man is able to kick his leg up, and hit him square in the chest, with an awful lot of force too.
That mercenary goes flying backwards, hitting another one at the open door, who goes flying in through it, sending the mercenary who was standing just on the otherside, staggering backwards, shouting "Fuck!" in surprise.
From his weapon harness, Dorc da Orc takes a small hammer and a small axe. Well they're small for him.
The weapons can not be seen, for the simple reason he's holding them, and they were on him, when the illusion spell was cast upon him.
The large ork who is the warleader of his race, starts wading into the other hired mercenaries out here in the back courtyard between the shop owned by the Sharnd the merchant, and the small warehouse behind it.
Though the next of the mercenaries to drop, is another close to the open side door to the small warehouse.
He falls backwards through the door too. But with a crossbow bolt through his forehead.
"We're under attack!" shouts Spranen the mercenary, who gets up off the floor as another of the hired mercenaries out in the courtyard, falls back through the open side door, this one with a crossbow bolt in his skull.
Brossic, who thinks they've had far too many bad coincidences of late, says "No" and grabs Grunna the sorcerer by the arm. As the powerful spellcaster from further south along the coast of the Southlands, was about to hurry to the open side door.
"Back way?" asks Brossic the flatland mercenary as he looks at his fellow lowlander, Sharnd the merchant.
"The back door" says the merchant who owns the small warehouse they're in at the moment "This way" continues Sharnd, whose hometown they're in at this time.
The leader of the core group of five who have plans of carving out a nation of their own in the nearby Maldin Hills.
Has let go of the arm of the sorcerer Grunna, and tells him "Get ready for anything" as he nods in the direction that Sharnd has hurried off to.
And as they all follow the local merchant to one end of the small warehouse, they all hear a roar outside in the courtyard between the warehouse and Sharnd's trading shop.
It's a roar they've heard before. First in a village up in the Maldin Hills less than a week ago. Then again just a few days ago, in the port town of Gilsom.
To be exact in the shipbuilding yards of Gilsom, where their airship, well Sharnd's airship to be exact, that was being repaired, was burnt to the ground one night.
"It's that bloody fat troll again" mutters Halnard the mercenary as they rush to the back of the small warehouse.
Brossic nods in agreement, then says to the sorcerer Grunna "Be careful" followed by "That knight fellow could be around the back".
"I will be" says Grunna the sorcerer as they near the back door of the small warehouse.
They look back as Spranen runs up to the rest of them saying "There's a fat guy out there killing the men".
"That troll we saw up in the hill country?" asks Brossic, followed by "And again in Gilsom?".
"No" says Spranen with a shake of his head, he quickly adds "Definitely not that troll".
"Then what the hell is that?" demands Halnard as they hear another roar from out in the courtyard between the small warehouse and Sharnd's shop.
"How the hell do i know" says Spranen, who then nods to the door as he continues with "Let's go".
"Careful" says Brossic as Sharnd goes to open the door.
The lowland merchant nods, then stands to one side as he grabs the door handle, while Grunna the sorcerer steps forward.
The powerful spellcaster from further south along the coast nods his head, then Sharnd opens the door.
The sorcerer looks outside, and slightly steps back as one of the hired mercenaries runs by, heading around to the courtyard to see what's happening.
Grunna steps outside, with a barrier spell up infront of him, and quickly looks around, then he says to the others "It's clear".
"To the left" says Sharnd the merchant when he steps outside, he continues with "Head that way" as Brossic, Halnard then Spranen follow him outside.
They hurry off in that direction, heading towards a lane that leads away from the otherside of the small warehouse from the courtyard, and Sharnd's trading shop.
"Get ready" quietly says Tamric Drubine, who continues with "They'll probably come this way".
As he, along with Saanea the witch, sir Percavelle Lé Dic, and Shur Kee the monk wait in a small yard between two buildings on a street here in the east of the town of Falmare.
On the opposite side of the street they're on, away to the left a bit, is a lane.
Field commander Drubine who is standing behind sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who is crouching down at the corner of one of the buildings.
Puts a hand on one of the nobleborn knight's armoured shoulders, and quietly says to them "That lane across the street, to our left Percy" he then adds "A good chance they'll come from there" as they all hear Dorc da Orc roar from that direction.
"Very well then" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic as they wait for the mercenaries they've chased from the Maldin Hills to show up "Let us deal to these villains, wot" adds the former paladin, who then sourly smiles as once again he hears his bitter rival, Dorc da Orc roar again.
"Filthy beast" mutters Percy as he and the others wait in anticipation for those they've been after, to appear . . . . . .