Wonderful 53.

The Nomads Plains...

Helbe the elven thief reappears and looks in the direction he's been heading since leaving the others a short time ago, and in the first light of the day, he can clearly see the long sand not that faraway. There looks like to be a drop off towards it, and that's confirmed when he spots Narladene the ground pixie come up over the level of the flat plains, where she's waving frantically to him.
The young elven noble shifts again, this time going up into the air, so that he can clearly see what's happening, as he can clearly hear shouting and screaming, from what's obviously young human voices, mixed with growling bellows from what's certain to be some kind of animal.
The elven magic user reappears again, floating in the air, the elven princeling who is thirty feet off the ground, grimaces at what he sees "By the forest gods" mutters Helbe the elven thief in the royal language of his race.
In a depression in the ground that leads away to a stretch of long sands, lies a bloody body of a nomad child, while another one is injured, torn and bloody, crawling along the hard packed ground not far from the sands.
There's a third child, with long daggers in hand, backed up in a crevice in the depression, as the large creature that's attacked the trio of nomad children is trying to get at the youngster who has wedged himself deep into the crevice.
What's trying to get at him is a sand dragon. It's similar in shape to a tundra beast often called a thunder beast. Though unlike a tundra beast, the sand dragon is much bigger, and different in appearance.
The sand dragon, which like all of it's kind, dwells in what the tribal nomads call the long sands. Hardly ever coming onto the hard ground of the plains proper. Is much like it's namesake the dragons.
It's very dragon like in appearance, though very stocky compared to the much larger flying dragon. It might not be lithe and agile, mixed with strength and power like a dragon. But the sand dragon does have thick natural plates of armour like it's namesake, these are are concentrated around its upper back, and shoulders, neck and it's head, down onto it's short stubby face, that lacks the sleekness, not to mention intelligence of a flying dragon.
Though there's something that the much smaller sand dragon does have in common with a normal dragon. And that's something that Helbenthril Raendril is just about to find out.
"The fuck?" mutters the elven magic user who has just cast a control creature spell upon the sand dragon, and it completely failed.
As the elven princeling from south of the equator floats there with a slight frown upon his face, Narladene the ground pixie appears beside him and says "It's immune to direct magic" the tiny winged creature then adds "That's why they're called dragons, even though they're not related to proper dragons in anyway".
"I've just figured that out" sourly says the young elven noble from the principality of Laerel, who quickly looks at the child who is in the crevice and mostly obscured from view by the sand dragon, that's whacking it's short, stubby armoured head at the dirt walls on either side of the crevice as it tries to get at the nomad youngster.
"Damn it" mutters the elven master assassin, who shifts to the injured child. Kneeling down beside the torn and bloody nomad child, the elven masterthief heals her with a spell. After he does, the youngest grandchild of the ruling prince of Laerel, shits her away to high ground above the depression, and out of the way of the rampaging sand dragon.
As the large creature lets out a bellow of frustration, Helbenthril Raendril quickly strings his longbow, and soon has an arrow to it, the elven master archer takes quick aim, and lets the shaft fly.
"Damn" murmurs the elven princeling as the yard long shaft takes the sand dragon in the head, it lets out an annoyed grunt but it completely ignores the arrow sticking out of the side of it's armoured head.
The elven magic user who can easily penetrate full plate, steel armour at a quite a long distance with his royal elven bow, mutters "That armour is thicker than it looks" then he puts another arrow to his longbow, and shoots off the shaft, casting a couple of spells as he does so.
It mid air the yard long shaft turns into half a dozen of them, all moving way faster than the original arrow was traveling a moment ago. This time there's a bellow of anger and pain from the sand dragon as half a dozen arrows slam into it's side.
"That got it's attention" says Helbe the elven thief as the large creature, nearly thirty feet in length, turns around as it growls in anger, it lets out another bellow as six more arrows slam into it hind quarters as it spins around.
The elven masterthief shifts into the crevice, takes ahold of the frightened looking nomad child, and shifts out again, taking less time than it does to blink twice to do so. The young elven noble who is the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel, who has shifted up into the air, shifts again, this time to the upper ground above the depression, putting the child down next to the other, who sits there with a dazed look upon her face after being healed so recently.
Knowing that they won't be able to understand the common language, the elven master assassin says directly into their minds, stay here out of the way. Before he shifts again, up into the air, above the depression in the ground so close to the long sand.
"There's another" says Narladene the ground pixie after flying up to be beside the elven prince that she's attached to, the naturally magical creature points to the long sands where a mound of sand is moving like a slow wave of water that's steadily picking up speed. "Great" sourly murmurs Helbe the elven thief as he sees the sand dragon in question, the elven master archer in mid air, puts another half dozen arrows into the one in the depression below, this time in its right rear leg.
The sand dragon bellows in pain, and it clearly limps, with it's rear right leg dragging behind it as it shuffles along, looking up at it's tormentor. Then the elven magic user noticing something, quickly puts another arrow to his longbow, and quickly lets it fly after carefully watching the sand dragon down below for a few moments.
A half dozen arrows, right after one another, in a line, thud into the open mouth of the injured sand dragon, slamming into the back of it's throat.
Helbenthril Raendril who thought about shooting it in it's eyes, but gave up on that, as it has protected armoured plates for eyelids, which are closed most of the time as it's in a rage. Gets some satisfaction as the sand dragon squeals in pain, with blood issuing from it's large mouth, while shaking it's head in an agitated manner, trying to dislodge the arrows sticking in it's throat.
Just then the other sand dragon shoots out of the sand, and though they can't fly like their namesakes. This sand dragon gets nearly six feet off the ground as it's momentum sends it into the depression below the young elven noble, who lifts an eyebrow as the sand dragon that's just shot from the long sand passes less than twenty feet below him.
As he shifts up higher into the sky, the second sand dragon comes to a rather ungainly stop, after tumbling as it tried to slow down when it hit the ground. They're clearly more comfortable on and beneath the long sands, as this one gets up after stumbling around, then it lets out a bellow of pain as the elven master archer puts a half dozen arrows into it's left flank.
"Heck these things are tough" murmurs Helbe the elven thief as he quickly looks down at the first sand dragon, the one that was attacking the nomad children, and finds that it's still alive, though dragging it's right rear leg, with blood foaming from it's large mouth. The elven master assassin knows that half dozen arrows yard long arrows shot into the back of the throat would most likely kill a wyvern, but not so these.
Then as the two sand dragons growl to one another, Narladene says to the elven princeling "They're talking to one another". "I figured that" says the elven princeling from south of the equator, who as he puts another arrow to his longbow, asks "What are they saying?" as he knows that the ground pixie can understand what animals and creatures are saying.
Before she can answer the elven masterthief, the tiny winged creature notices something else, and instead says "The others".
Helbenthril Raendril looks away to his left, and sees sir Percavelle Lé Dic on his horse, galloping towards the depression in the ground at break neck speed as the sun continues to rise over the nomads plains.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel isn't at all surprised that the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che is the first one to arrive. For out of the group when they're all together, only Dorc da Orc is keener to get into a fight or trouble, which is often the same thing when it comes to the ork warleader, and for the matter, the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic too.
As the elven master archer puts another half dozen arrows into the side of second sand dragon, which is trying to scramble up and around the depression in the ground, to get up onto the flat ground where the two surviving nomad children are crouching, huddling together as they look down at the pair of sand dragons below.
Sir Percavelle the knight brings his horse to a stop not far from the two children, the nobleborn paladin hauls back so hard on the reins of his chagring horse, that it's rump hits the ground as it comes to a stop.
The heavily armoured knight who has spotted the elven masterthief floating up in the air, jumps off his mount and rushes forward, he then stops and looks down into the depression to see what's below making all the noise.
The paladin, well he's actually a knight, as he doesn't know it, he's been demoted in his order due to his actions in the past, namely going on a holy quest without permission, and stealing a holy artifact from his order, that would be the shield of Saint Mar-che.
Quickly backs up, taking a pick in one hand, and a claw hammer in the other, then without pause, and without thinking, which at times he doesn't exactly do a lot of. He runs forward and leaps off the edge of the depression.
"Narille!" shouts sir Percavelle Lé Dic, as he leaps off the edge, Narille being the god that the order of knights he's a member of, worship. "Ooofff" mutters the heavily armoured knight as he lands upon the broad back of the first sand dragon that's still shaking it's head from side to side. Then it lets out a gurgled bellow when sir Percavelle sits up, lifts the visor of his full helm up, so that he can see what the hell he's doing, before he slams both hand pick, and claw hammer into the back of the injured sand dragon, further down from it's armoured plates, but along it's spine.
The sand dragon lets out blood curdling bellows as the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che repeatedly slams his weapons into the ridge of it's backbone. "Take that you evil creature of this sandy hell hole!" shouts sir Percavelle, who then mutters "Drats" when his pick gets stuck in the back of the sand dragon, and it takes a bit of effort for him to get it free.
As the heavily armoured knight attacks the first sand dragon, and the elven princeling concentrates on the second, which is getting up and around the depression in the ground. The rest of the group from south of the equator, who are riding across the nomads plains to get to the elven principality of Maladimbáh, start to arrive . . . . . .

Wonderful 52.

The Nomads Plains...

Kaldeàlil Haldéilv stops and looks around, the attractive elven maid who is on the hunt for those she's been after for three years, well the hunt for one person in particular. Looks to the northeast, the direction that's leads to the elven principality of Maladimbáh, which she fled from less than a week ago.
The elven magic user who is originally from Maladimbáh, heard from here contacts in the port city of Falnic, that those who she's after were recently there.
Infact they left early in the morning of the day she arrived there, the attractive elven maid who arrived in the night time, was both annoyed, and satisfied that her quarry is so close.
Kaldeàlil after spreading rumours in Falnic about the two who chased her from her homeland so recently. Left the coastal city in Belinswae fairly quickly, to head east again into the nomads plains where those she's after are at the moment, as they head to Maladimbáh, the elven principality which for better or worse, is her home.
Even though she's not particularly enamoured by it, or her father who is a lord there. Her father who must be more than annoyed that his tower came under attack so recently. When Kaldeàlil's prisoner, the Vexilian mage named Mira Reinholt, was freed by the undead being who is the lord and ruler of the lands Farque in the Southlands.
"Damn those two" mutters Kaldeàlil Haldéilv who is standing upon a pile of boulders as she looks in all directions in what's a fairly flat part of the dry, arid plains. The elven magic user who hopes the two who pursued her out of Maladimbáh are caught and somehow detained in the Belinswae city of Falnic. She's under no illusions that they'll be killed.
Those in positions of authority in Falnic, the justifiers. Have no idea what those two are capable of. All the same, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv hopes she's lost them for a lengthy period of time.
For the single purpose of allowing her more time, to concentrate her efforts in hunting down the person she has had a personal vendetta for the past three years. The elven prince who killed her lover, Xanderlith Karlavilt, in his homeland in the Southlands, the elven principality of Alínlae.
The attractive elven maid who has been most active at night as she crosses back across the nomads plains. Knows that her quarry will be traveling at night too. For they're on horseback if her sources in the city of Falnic are correct. And traveling at night while mounted, when most of the group you're with are human. Seems the most logical, and frankly the most prudent thing to do.
It's after midnight, and the elven magic user who doesn't want to travel too quickly in case she passes her quarry at night without knowing it. Has only gone through a rift the once since leaving Falnic, and that was when she left the port city on the coast of Belinswae itself.
Even then she only went forty miles or so, afraid if she went too far, she might of gone by the one she's hunting, and those with him. Then there's the challenge of working out which way they've actually gone. Did they head east straight into the nomads plains, travel that way then turn north.
Or did they go north first, then turn east, before going north again as they travel on horseback to the elven principality of Maladimbáh. Or have they been riding steadily northeast all the time as they cross the nomads plains.
That is what the attractive elven maid is betting they do, as it seems the most easiest at this time of the year. Where towards the end of summer, you're unlikely to get into trouble with any marauding wild wyverns, who usually avoid travelers, unless they've got horses.
And because the nomads themselves head further east into the plains, getting as far away from the region of Belinswae as possible. For come the very end of summer, and into the autumn, the townsmen of Belinswae, especially those in Falnic, intensify their raids into the hot, dry plains that the nomad tribes call their home.
Kaldeàlil Haldéilv who has traveled the nomads plains often, and knows various landmarks across it, is traveling with a pack of supplies across one shoulder, and a number of leather water sacks over the other.
Looks to the east, and teleports there, to a couple of miles away, where she reappears on top of an actual hill, one of the few in this part of the nomads plains.
With the moon Ilnari, the largest of the moons of Volunell, big in the sky just above the horizon to the east. The attractive elven maid, who is unable to be sensed by other spellcasters due to an amulet she wears on a chain around her neck. Looks all around, as far as her naturally enhanced eyes can see. And when she can't see anything of interest, she casts farsight upon herself, so that she's able to see close up, to more than a dozen miles away, she looks around again hoping to see her quarry, or at least some sign of them.
"Nothing" murmurs Kaldeàlil Haldéilv in a slight tone of disappointment, the illegitimate daughter of an elven lord of Maladimbáh, looks across an area of shifting sand, which is commonly referred to as long sand by the nomad tribes. It's just one of many patches of long sand that can be found across the dry and arid plains where the nomads make their home.
The elven magic user sees a couple of mounds in the long sand, not particularly high in height, but the attractive elven maid knows what they are, and that they're far larger than what they appear. Kaldeàlil Haldéilv knows that she would of probably missed them if she wasn't casting a spell upon her natural farsight.
"Don't want to be waking them up" murmurs the elven magic user from the principality of Maladimbáh, who knows exactly what the mounds of sand are, as she has encountered them before when crossing the nomads plains. They can be difficult at the best of times, so much so that even the nomads avoid them when they can. For they can be difficult to deal with, even for a spellcaster.
After looking around again, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv teleports away, as she continues her search for those she's chasing after here in the nomads plains.
Much later, when it's approaching dawn, as the false light of pre dawn can briefly be seen, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy says "There's definitely something that way" the elf from the principality of Alínlae in the Southlands gestures to their right, to the south and adds "I can hear it".
"You know what it is?" asks Riley Hait the mercenary ranger who is riding a bit further infront of the elven spy, who responds with a shake of his head, and says "I'm not too sure" the mercenary ranger is quiet for a few moments as he contemplate things, then he says "We continue on, unless whatever it is effects us in anyway".
The group continue riding, with the ranger Hait expecting either Helbe the elven thief or Narladene the ground pixie to turn up pretty soon, to give directions to where they're going to camp for the day.
It's not long after, when Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman just wondering when either the young elven noble or the ground pixie will show up. When the elven princeling suddenly appears out of thin air just a bit infront of them, as the first light of dawn starts to come up over the horizon in the east.
As the elven magic user hops up into the saddle of his horse that's being led by Lisell Maera, he frowns and looks away to the south "What's that?" asks Helbe the elven thief, who then looks at the elven spy Dalinvardél Tanith, who says "Think it's screaming" he pauses for a moment, then adds "Well, that's what it sounds like".
"Hold up for a moment" says Helbenthril Raendril to the rest of the group, the elven magic user casts a spell and looks away to the south, the direction he knows Narladene went off to check up on something after telling him of a good place for the group to camp for the day.
After a few moments of listening with the aid of a spell, the young elven noble says "That's screaming alright" he continues with "Human by the sounds of it" the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel then quietly adds "Sounds young too".
The elven masterthief is just about to say something to the others, when suddenly Narladene the ground pixie appears right infront of his face and she hurriedly tells him something, as he listens to the tiny winged creature, the elven master archer winces, then he sighs as she suddenly disappears again.
"By the forest gods" mutters Helbe the elven thief in the language of the elven royalty, he follows that up with "Fuck" in the same language, then he looks at Riley Hait who asks him "What is it?". "Someone's in trouble" replies the young elven noble from the principality of Laerel in the Southlands, who looks away to the south, then murmurs "Damn it".
The elven master assassin throws his reins to Lisell Maera, then says to the others "Head south, we're needed" the nominal leader of the group from south of the equator looks at the spy Tanith and tells him "Just follow those sounds, it'll be easy to locate, it's about two miles away to the south" he then looks at the ranger Hait and adds "Hurry".
Then the elven masterthief vanishes as he shifts away, heading south, the direction that Narladene the ground pixie has already taken off towards.
The others all look at the human mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen in the Southlands, who is in charge of them as they cross the nomads plains "Shit" mutters Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, whose mind is made up for him, when sir Percavelle Lé Dic says "You heard the royal thief, we are needed, so off we go into the breach of the unknown to fight the enemy over yonder ways" as he waves in the direction that Helbenthril Raendril took off to.
The heavily armoured knight starts riding south at speed, reckless of the footing beneath the hooves of his horse. After sourly smiling, Riley Hait says to the others "It's off we go then" and he nods his head in the direction that the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che is galloping off to.
The rest of them start riding that way too, not knowing what they're actually riding towards . . . . . .

Wonderful 51.

The Nomads Plains...

They travel mostly at night, usually setting off late in the afternoon, around dusk. And stopping early in the morning just after dawn when they set up camp. Making sure that they rest and sleep during the day, when it's hottest on the dry, arid nomads plains.
And although Helbe the elven thief is the nominal leader of the group from the Southlands, it's Riley Hait the mercenary ranger who is in charge of their travel across the plains of the nomads.
For the mercenary ranger as he was originally Zubutai Timaginson, a hordesman of the southern tundra, he's accustomed to traveling across such barren and seemingly lifeless looking terrain.
True, the great southern tundra where Zubutai the barbarian hordesman hails from, is far more verdant and green than the nomads plains. But it does get extremely hot there for a couple of months during the summers. Where life and travel for the barbarian hordes can get very difficult, almost as bad as it during the harsh winters they face on the tundra towards the bottom of the world.
And though traveling across the nomads plains is difficult at the best of times, it's more difficult in the summertime as it is now, even it is the later half of the summer. But the group from south of the equator have an advantage, a few infact.
First of all the two elves, Helbenthril Raendril and Dalinvardél Tanith with their heightened senses can see and hear anything well before any of the others in the group that could be a threat to them.
Not to mention the spellcasting skills and talent of the elven prince from Laerel is a huge advantage for the group. But the main advantage they have compared to anyone else who may travel across the nomads plains who isn't flying over it, is Narladene the ground pixie.
The tiny winged creature first and foremost finds them a safe place to camp each day. Whether it be in caves, or the deep trench like cuttings in the ground that the nomads use for their camps.
And when she can't find any of them to camp in, the ground pixie will find a secure location, like an outcrop of rocks that they can camp in or next to during the hot days on the nomads plains.
But most importantly, the naturally magical creature finds water to go along with the water in the barrels that they've brought along with them on their pack horses.
Just before dawn, Helbe the elven thief appears out of thin air upon a small rise, in what otherwise is flat ground for miles all around, the elven magic user who has been out scouting as he does when they travel at night, heads down the rise, to the cuttings of an old nomads camp which it looks like it hasn't been used in years, where the others are setting up camp.
These cuttings are too narrow and shallow for the horses to be brought into, so the horses who are being hobbled on the lines that have been staked out for them. Go beneath the sand coloured, large canvas tents, basically lean to's that a couple of the pack horses carry.
The rise upon the elven masterthief is walking down, contains a small cave, to small for all of them and their horses to camp in, but it does have a small pool of water that's continually fed by an underground spring. It's why this location was chosen to be the camp site for the day after Narladene found it during the middle of the night, while the others were good ten miles behind her.
"Seems they haven't been using this one for quite some time" says Riley Hait the mercenary ranger when the elven princeling joins him in one of the cuttings, the ranger who was brought up and trained in the elven principality of Envadarlen in the Southlands, continues with "Probably still a bit too far to the west, too close to the raiders from Belinswae".
"More than likely" says Helbe the elven thief as he nods his hooded head in agreement with Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, the elven master assassin takes off his cloak and helps the ranger Hait to put one of the canvas tent sides across the cutting they're in.
After going out and putting rocks on the dun coloured tent side to hold it down, the two get back into the cutting and have a meal that the mercenary ranger was preparing when the young elven noble turned up.
"I see someone finally persuaded Percavelle to take off his armour when we stop" says Helbe the elven thief who noticed the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic was out of his armour as the sun was rising in the east.
"Shur Kee finally did" says Riley Hait the mercenary ranger who continues with "He got sick of the loud mouth idiot clanking about as we were all trying to sleep" the human ranger who was trained by the elven warders of Envadarlen in the Southlands adds "Think the monk even swore when he asked the knight for the umpteenth time to take his armour off, i think Percy was so surprised at that, it's the reason he took it off this morning".
The elven magic user smiles in satisfaction at that, for the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che could often been heard moving about as he slept, making a bit of a racket as the rest of them tried to get some sleep.
After eating their meal, the two of them, taking an end of the cutting each, bed down for the day, when the heat at times can get oppressive here on the plains of the nomads.
They could travel during the day if they had too, but Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman deems it too much of a risk, besides they've got the advantage of the two elves in the group, along with the ground pixie Narladene, to make traveling at night a fairly easy task.
After the mercenary ranger who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra falls asleep, Narladene the ground pixie turns up, and makes her way to where the young elven noble from the principality of Laerel is lying down.
"Nothing about" whispers Narladene the ground pixie as she sits upon the side of Helbenthril Raendril's face as he lies upon his side, the elven masterthief wrinkles his nose and lips hoping to dislodge the tiny winged creature, but she remains on his face.
"Saw some old tracks about twenty miles to the south" whispers the naturally magical creature, who continues with "Some of the nomads must of gone through the area four or five days ago, heading east".
"Getting away from any of the townsmen raiding into this part of the plains" murmurs the elven master assassin, the ground pixie nods her tiny head in agreement, then says in a whisper "Not since early yesterday evening, when i saw that lot on wyverns faraway to the south" in response to the elven princeling asking her in a murmur "Have you spotted any townsmen lately?".
The elven noble who is the youngest member of the ruling family of the principality of Laerel slightly nods, then yawns before he murmurs "Keep an eye on things" as he knows the tiny winged creature who does not sleep as she doesn't need to, will keep a watch on them and their camp throughout the day.
With a fond, soft smile upon her face, Narladene watches Helbe the elven thief fall asleep, once the elven magic user is asleep, the ground pixie takes off to check on everyone and everything as she keeps a watch on the group and their camp site.
The day is uneventful and passes by, and late in the afternoon, after having a fairly uninterrupted day's worth of sleep, the young elven noble is woken up by Narladene who tells him that it's soon approaching sunset.
"Anything happen?" quietly asks the elven master assassin as he gets up and dons his summer cloak, the ground pixie shakes her head, and quietly says "Nothing" she follows that by saying in a dry tone of voice "Apart from Percy snoring again".
"That can't be helped" wryly murmurs the elven prince who is just glad that there was enough cuttings in this particular site, for the earl of Lé Dic from the kingdom of Druvic to have one for himself, much to the relief of Shur Kee the monk who usually shares a cutting with the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che if there aren't enough cuttings to go around.
The young elven noble is up and about, and after rousing the ranger Hait and the others in the group, and after getting something to eat from their supplies, the elven masterthief is away, scouting to the east and north, the way they're heading, the way to the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
Riley Hait along with the others break down the camp after they have a light meal, by the time it's dusk, and the last light of the day is fading away towards early evening, the group is underway in the noticeably cooler temperatures at the end of the day.
The mercenary ranger slightly nods his head once he's mounted upon his horse when Narladene the ground pixie briefly appears to him, and points the way to the go.
The ranger Hait who pretty well knew which way to go, tells the others which way to ride, and follows out behind sir Percavelle Lé Dic who takes it upon himself to lead the way. The large paladin, who once again is in his armour, can't help himself, and has to always be in the front whenever they travel. Especially when they're upon horses, as they are now as they travel across the nomads plains.
With Shur Kee the monk and Tamric Drubine at the rear leading the pack horses, the group sets off to the northeast as the sun slips down under the horizon in the west.
After a while as first one of the moons of Volunell, then a second rises in the early evening sky, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy spots prince Helbenthril Raendril a few miles away, and calls out to the ranger Hait to slightly change direction to the way the young elven noble is ponting in the distance.
Riley Hait tells sir Percavelle to go more to their left, to the north as they continue on their way across the nomads plains . . . . . .

Wonderful 50.

Belinswae. The City Of Falnic...

"Me is fucken waiting" growls Dorc da Orc as he paces back and forth in a lane. A couple of people on the street infront of him, hurry away when they see the large ork stomping back and forth through the lane. The ork warleader sourly smiles as he sees the two humans hurrying away.
"Cunts" mutters Dorkindle, who then mutters "And where the fuck is them two stupid cunts at?" for that he gets a knock on the back of his head from the pommel of lord Farque's sword which is on the back of his weapon harness.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, hisses in annoyance, stops his pacing, and rubs the back of his head "Fuck that hurt" mutters Dorc da Orc, who quickly adds "Fuck alright, sorry" when Ryn the Sword of Power tells him that she'll hit him even harder, if he calls the lord and ruler of the lands Farque a stupid cunt again.
The large ork sourly smiles, then sighs, and resumes his pacing, though not so loudly, and noisily as he was before. After a little while, the warleader of the ork race grunts as he catches the scent of who is nearby and approaching "Bout fucken time" murmurs Dorc da Orc.
"Are you sure?" asks lord Farque "Yeah, it was definitely them" replies Mira Reinholt the mage, who as they walk up a hillside street in the port city of Falnic, continues with "That other justifier this morning was the one keeping an eye on them while they were here" the once powerful mage then adds "They left yesterday morning, heading east".
"Well at least we know they're in the general region" dryly says the undead warlord at the news that the rest of the group has been here in Falnic searching for him, the mage Reinholt, and Dorc da Orc.
The heavily armoured deathlord gestures to a street to the right, and as they cross to it, he quietly says to the Vexilian mage in exile as they converse in the elven language "What's the bet they're heading to Maladimbáh" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, nods his head and says "Not much of a bet, since that Kaldeàlil left a trail easy for a blind bat to pick up, that's heading there".
"And with her heading back that way from what you got from that justifier" says the lord of the death realm, who then adds "The others may as well be heading into a trap" the mage Reinholt nods his head in agreement then asks "Back through that portal?".
"Maybe" replies lord Farque, who continues with "Hopefully it will give us an advantage over them all if we do go via that" he then adds "Especially if Helbe and the others are crossing the plains on horseback" Draugadrottin after glancing up at a passing wyvern, says "Or we could find another way" the undead warlord points then says "Up those steps, and to the street to the right" the deathlord of Farque adds "He's in an alley or lane on that street".
Dorc da Orc grunts when lord Farque and Mira Reinholt find him in the lane "Here" says the large ork who doesn't even have to be asked to hand back the Farque family sword to the ruler of those lands. The ork warleader practically throws it back at the lord of the death realm "Fucken keep it" mutters the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks.
Who definitely thinks the negatives outweigh the positives of carrying around lord Farque's sword. The multitude of voices that he usually has rattling around inside his head might be annoying and a pain in the ass, but at least they're his voices, and not that of the large sword, who doesn't just yell at him, but also actually hits him when he does something she doesn't particularly like, which is often.
Dorkindle who was in this particular lane as it gave him a clear view down to the justifier's garrison where the other two were being held, asks "You find out what you were fucken looking for?".
"We did" is the reply from Mira Reinholt, and lord Farque who has just quickly apologized to Ryn the Sword of Power for being in the care of the large ork for a fair chunk of the day, then says "We're leaving after we get you two some supplies".
"Where we fucken going?" asks Dorc da Orc "Maladimbáh" replies lord Farque, the ork warleader grunts at the mention of the elven principality he's heard the other two talk about.
"We going back through that magicky door?" asks the ork weaponsmith as they make their way out of the other end of the lane "Maybe" replies Draugadrottin as he glances up into the afternoon sky, as a wyvern flies over the city after coming in from the east, the direction of the nomads plains.
The justifier Sammacin blinks his eyes as though he's just woken up, the young wizard who is one of the rulers of the city of Falnic finds himself sitting behind a desk in one of the rooms in a building in his main garrison. The justifier finds his guard commander and cousin Galbin standing nearby with a slightly confused look upon his face.
"Did i fall asleep or something?" asks justifier Sammacin "Huh?" murmurs guard commander Galbin who then adds "What?" followed by "Oh, yeah you must of" though the older of the two cousins doesn't exactly sound to sure of that.
Hmmmmm i must of, the wizard Sammacin thinks to himself, the justifier of Falnic who is feeling a little fuzzy headed after presumably falling asleep this afternoon, looks around the room, where some of his guards are making their way out into the hallway, with all of them, having slightly confused looks upon their faces, tries to remember something, he tries to remember what he was doing before he dropped off for a nap.
"Where's those two we detained this morning at the east gate?" asks Sammacin a few moments later when he finally recalls what he was doing before he fell asleep "I let them go as you ordered" says the older cousin Galbin with a shrug of his shoulders "You did?" says the young wizard, who with a bemused look upon his face, adds "I did?".
"Yeah you did" says the guard commander who continues with "Something about that elven woman spinning lies and making things up about those two" Galbin then adds "Those two travelers were innocent of what she accused them of".
"That's right" murmurs the justifier Sammacin, who like his older cousin and the guards who were in the room with them, have no idea that their minds have been tampered with.
"That bitch" mutters the young wizard in annoyance, he then looks at his cousin the guard commander and says to him "I wonder if she's someone who doesn't want to see the mage Kaellin's plan be a success?" his cousin nods, as the justifier says "I wouldn't put it past her".
Sammacin like the rest of his fellow justifiers might not want their colleague Kaellin to be that successful due to rivalry and jealousy. They do deep down want to him have some kind of success. For anyone of them to get a foothold into Maladimbáh where they can have their guards be garrisoned, so that they can raid down into the nomads plains far more easily from here on the coast, is overall a good thing indeed.
"Is she still in the city?" asks the wizard Sammacin "I believe she left last night" replies the guard commander who then adds "I'll have to find out to be sure". "Do so" says the justifier, who then continues on with "I find it surprising she tells us of these so called allegations against those two, then she skips town soon afterwards" the wizard Sammacin pauses for a moment, then he quietly adds "She's up to something, and i intend to find out what".
After his cousin Galbin leaves to find out if the elven maid is still here in Falnic. The justifier gets up as he decides to have a little fun for the rest of the afternoon.
Sammacin is thinking about a particularly young prostitute in one of the dockside pleasure houses that he's had his eye on for most of the summer, that'll he'll get some of his guards to bring up to his hillside residence.
When suddenly he feels a tightening in his stomach, he clamps a hand over his mouth, and he rushes to a large empty brass vase on a side table, which he throws up in.
"Aaaahhhh" groans the justifier Sammacin as he guts are roiling about inside him, the young wizard wipes his mouth, and forgets about having some fun this afternoon, and decides to help his cousin Galbin instead, in finding out about the elven maid who misinformed them.
The justifier has no idea that he has had a spell cast upon him, that will always cause that reaction when he gets it into his mind, to have what he calls fun, which is infact the humiliation, pain and ultimately death, of the prostitutes he takes from Falnic's pleasure houses.
It's something that will get worse and worse every time he wants to have his type of skewed fun, which he'll never be able to do again no matter how hard he wants to do it.
Later in the afternoon, in the southeast of the port city of Falnic, Dorc da Orc says "Hmmmmm that fucken one?" the large ork who doesn't particularly like any of them, as he would rather be killing and eating them, thinks the one in question is the coolest looking one they've seen so far, which is all the requirement he needs for them.
"Not that one" dryly says lord Farque as he and the ork warleader, along with Mira Reinholt the mage stand upon a rooftop in the afternoon sunshine , the undead warlord adds "That one isn't big enough to carry the mage and i, as well as you, you fat fuck".
"Dorc not fat, me big boned" loudly mutters the ork weaponsmith, which causes Mira Reinholt the mage to snort, then dryly say "Keep telling yourself that Dorc" the large ork looks at the once powerful mage, and scowls at him.
Before the other two can get into an argument, lord Farque says "That one" and points at the one in question, then the heavily armoured deathlord says to the ork warleader and the Vexilian mage in exile "Move back" all three of them move back from the edge of the roof, infact almost going to the opposite side of the roof.
After a few moments, the deathlord of Farque shouts out something that the large ork and the mage don't understand, though which the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, recognises as the language of dragons.
An instant later there's numerous loud squawks and screeches from the close by yard of one of the largest trading companies here in the port city of Falnic. And a half a dozen wyverns, some of whom have been sunning themselves on warehouse rooftops, and others napping beneath the shade of trees in the yard itself, all launch into the air, much to the chagrin of the workers in the yard and warehouses.
As the wyverns fly up into the afternoon sky, one which has it's saddle on, and is one of the largest belonging to the trading company, comes up and lands upon the roof that the trio from south of the equator are on.
"Get on it" says lord Farque who is first to jump up into the saddle of the wyvern, which shuffles sideways, and hisses at Dorkindle for the large ork is starting to stink again. Eventually the ork weaponsmith gets onto the back of the large winged creature, sitting behind the mage Reinholt.
With a command from the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, the wyvern is quickly into the air, and flying over the port city of Falnic, and is soon passing over the city walls, and heading eastwards towards the nomads plains . . . . . .

Wonderful 49.

Belinswae. The City Of Falnic...

"See, me not causing any fucken troubles" says Dorc da Orc, who then adds "Me just havin' some drinks" as he sits in the shade of a tree in the side courtyard of the first tavern he came across since entering the city of Falnic. The large ork has been here since the morning, it's now the middle of the afternoon.
The Swords of Power Ryn if she still had her body of a Greater Dragon, would be rolling her eyes as she talks to the warleader of the ork race.
Dorkindle who is waiting as instructed, is drinking from a large barrel of ale, it's a pale ale and rather dry tasting, which he rather enjoys. He's the only one in the courtyard as all the other customers fled the tavern when he entered it this morning. Even now there's only a few inside, and they're all on the otherside of the tavern from the courtyard.
Normally the tavern owner would be disappointed at so few customers, but since the ork weaponsmith is buying booze and food like there's no tomorrow, he couldn't care less that there's so few customers.
Dorc da Orc who is sitting on the ground in the shade, next to a small round table, on which is some of the food he's yet to eat. Takes some of the crispy pork scratchings, and rolls them up into the round flat bread that seems to be popular here not just in Falnic, but in most of Belinswae.
With a mouthful of food, the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, grunts as he listens to lord Farque's sword that's on the back of his weapon harness. The large ork isn't exactly pleased to be in possession of the sword again, though there's one advantage of having it again. All the voices in his head are silent again, which is both a relief and a little odd to him.
After downing more of the ale, and calling out to inside that he wants more food, Dorc da Orc says in his native tongue "Me know what to fucken do" the warleader of the ork race continues with "We done it lots of fucken times before" he then adds "Trust Dorc".
I'd rather not, Ryn the Sword of Power dryly thinks to herself, who then continues on with her conversation with the large ork, glad that he's just been drinking and eating since entering the city by himself this morning. And he hasn't caused any trouble, say like randomly burn down a building or kill someone in broad daylight in the middle of a street. Which is often the case when he's left on his own in a strange, and new city.
In the north of the port city of Falnic, in the main garrison of justifier Sammacin's army. Lord Farque and Mira Reinholt the mage are in a room that's basically a cell. It's the holding room for any of the unruly guards when they're disciplined, a brig of sorts.
It's not the usual prison, which is next door, where local criminals are held. Nor is it the part of the prison where the captured nomads are held before they're publicly executed.
While lord Farque stands in the shadows of a corner, completely still and not moving, Mira Reinholt lies upon the bench that has a thin mattress upon in. The once powerful mage has just woken up from a nap he's had.
"Think they've forgotten about us?" aaks Mira Reinholt the mage who speaks in the elven language, so that if anyone is listening, he and the undead warlord won't be understood.
"I doubt it" says lord Farque in the same language, who then continues with "Probably busy trying to deal with the turmoil we created at the city gates" the heavily armoured deathlord then adds "Trying to get their wyverns back, and to find out what happened to that justifier".
"He read that demented psycho's mind, that's what happened to him" dryly says the mage Reinholt, who then grins at the memory of the sorcerer who threw up then passed out after trying to read the mind of Dorc da Orc, who like all of his race, is immune to spells on the mind.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster sits up and pours himself a cup of water from the pottery jug on the small stand next to the bench he's on. They're the only things in the holding room, apart from a bucket in one of the corners, used for relieving yourself in, the Vexilian mage in exile hasn't had to use it yet, as he hasn't felt the need to take a leak since they were taken in by the local authorities.
After Mira Reinholt has a drink of water, then gets up and stretches, he says "Wonder when they're going to get to us?" lord Farque is silent for a couple of moments, then he says "I'd say pretty soon" the lord of the death realm informs the exiled Vexilian mage that the justifier has just arrived at the garrison.
A short while later and they hear the lock to the door open, when the door is opened, they're told to come out in the hallway, where a small squad of justifier's guards are waiting for them.
The two of them make their way out into the hallway, they don't say a thing, they don't have to, they've already briefly discussed what they're going to do, and besides they've done this or something very similar numerous times before.
Not far from the main east gates of Falnic, in the side courtyard of a tavern, Dorc da Orc grunts as lord Farque's sword tells him to get going. The large ork stuffs the remaining food on the small table next to him in his mouth. Gets up off the ground, picks up the ale barrel, and heads out of the tavern's courtyard.
The large ork once he's on the street out infront of the tavern, heads north through the port city to where he can smell where lord Farque and Mira Reinholt are.
In the north of Falnic, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque and the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil are led to another building in the garrison, where the majority of this particular justifier's army is housed.
Once inside, they're ushered into one of the rooms on the ground floor, and told to take a seat in on one of the chairs infront of a large desk, the two of them, sit beside one another, while three of the justifier's guards remain in the room, and the rest wait outside in the hallway.
As the two from south of the equator wait, the undead warlord gives a couple of discreet hand signals to the once powerful mage. The swordmaster Reinholt might not understand the plethora of hand signals that the deathlord of Farque has taught Dorc da Orc over the years. But he does know a fair few of them, including the two just given there.
The mage Reinholt slightly nods, then takes the hood of his summer cloak from his head. While the lord of the death realm moves his right leg slightly to one side, so that his steel boot is right next to the exiled Vexilian mage's left boot.
The two Southlanders don't have to wait long, for the justifier named Sammacin, along with his cousin and guard commander Galbin, along with three more guards enter the room.
The justifier who is a wizard, along with his cousin the guard commander, as well as two of the guards make their way around to the otherside of the table.
Justifier Sammacin thinks about taking a seat, but seeing how tall the two on the otherside are, even when seated, he remains standing along with his cousin, and the two guards. All of whom are a similar height to him, around the average height of a man from Belinswae, about five foot eight or five foot nine inches tall.
"Sorry about the wait, but i had to deal to some things" says justifier Sammacin, the mage Reinholt who will do the speaking, nods his head, and says "No problems" the wizard looks at the large, heavily armoured deathlord and tells him "Do you mind lifting your visor, i prefer to look at who I'm speaking to".
"Yeah, you don't want to do that" says Mira Reinholt, who then adds "Horribly disfigured face from a war wound" the Vexilian mage in exile continues with "It'll make you throw up if you see it" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster after a slight pause says "Like that poor fellow this morning at the city gates when we arrived".
The once powerful mage can't help but slightly grin when the justifier sourly smiles at the mention at that, then the mage who is holding his power within himself, feels lord Farque's right boot touch his left boot. The Vexilian swordmaster knows that the justifier is casting a spell upon him, most likely to see if he's telling the truth or not.
When the young wizard slightly frowns, he knows he's been unable to tell if he's lying or not thanks to lord Farque's touch, and will assume that the mage Reinholt is telling the truth. Which is always the likely answer when your truth spell isn't completely successful.
"Sorry about that" says justifier Sammacin to the undead warlord who just nods his full helmed head in reply, then the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, says "Will this be long?" he then adds "We've traveled far to visit your city, and we would like to see as much of it as possible".
"Of course" says the wizard Sammacin, who continues with "Hopefully it doesn't take too long" the justifier who is one of the rulers of the port city of Falnic then adds "If all is well, you'll be free to go" though from his tone, the young wizard doesn't think this will be likely.
So begins the questioning, with the mage Reinholt answering. The exiled Vexilian mage in exile answers truthfully for the most part, interspersed with a few lies. As he talks, the highly skilled swordmaster feels the right steel boot of the deathlord of Farque touching his left boot every so often. Knowing the undead warlord is stopping the justifier from either reading the once powerful mage's mind or seeing if he's telling the truth or not.
And that if the wizard Sammacin is also doing that to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, the lord of the death realm who is known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, is only allowing the justifier to know what the undead warlord wants him to know.
Mira Reinholt refrains from grinning as he sees the young wizard getting slightly frustrated with his answers, the once powerful mage notices that the two guards behind the desk have started to fidget as well. A sure sign that they've be told that this questioning would of gone smoother, and a lot quicker than it currently is.
Then when the justifier asks him if he and lord Farque have been in the elven principality of Maladimbáh recently, the exiled Vexilian mage sees out of the corner of his eye, the heavily armoured deathlord slightly move his right hand, giving a signal. The swordmaster Reinholt sits back in his chair in a relaxed fashion, and waits for what he knows is about to happen.
Lord Farque stands up, justifier Sammacin stops what he's saying in mid sentence, looks at the large, heavily armoured figure of the lord of the death realm then says "Yes?". The undead warlord doesn't say anything, he just takes a step closer to the desk, then quickly reaches across, and slaps the young wizard across the face. The justifier falls down, face first across the desk.
There's a moment of stunned silence from all the guards in the room after seeing what's just happened, then to a man, they go to draw their weapons.
Mira Reinholt just sits there, not doing a thing as suddenly lord Farque turns into a blur of movement. By the time the exiled Vexilian mage blinks once, then again quickly afterwards, all seven of the justifier's guards, along with their guard commander are on the floor. Like the young wizard, not a single one of them is moving.
The mage Reinholt who didn't hear a single one of the guards drop to the floor, gets up and checks on the justifier "Hell, how hard was that slap?" the highly skilled swordmaster continues with "You didn't kill him, did you?".
"He's alive" says Draugadrottin who then tells the once powerful mage "Get on with it will you" Mira Reinholt rolls his eyes, then rolls the unconscious wizard onto his back where he lies over the desk. Then the Vexilian mage in exile stops holding his power within himself, and reads the mind of the justifier who has been knocked out.
"That bitch" mutters the swordmaster Reinholt, who continues with "She told them a shitload of lies about us that they believe" the once powerful mage is silent for a little while, then he mutters "Fucking degenerate" as he looks at the young wizard.
"You got it?" asks lord Farque "I've got it" says Mira Reinholt, who stops reading the mind of justifier Sammacin, then quickly casts another spell upon the unconscious wizard "There done" says the Vexilian mage in exile.
"Where's our stuff?" asks the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then adds "And in stuff, i mean my mace" the mage Reinholt replies with "In that building we were in before".
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head, then he asks the once powerful mage "How good are you at mind control again?" Mira Reinholt shrugs then says "So, so". "It'll do" says the heavily armoured deathlord who then points at the guard commander Galbin and says "That one will do".
As the swordmaster from Vexil goes to wake the unconscious guard commander, to control his mind, the lord of the death realm says to him "Hurry up mage" he continues with "That big fucking idiot Dorc is on his way here, don't want him fighting his way in here, while we make a clean escape" . . . . . .

Wonderful 48.

Belinswae. The City Of Falnic...

"That's definitely the two of them" says commander Galbin, who pauses for a moment, before he adds "Though what that other thing is, i have no idea". "Nor do i" says justifier Sammacin, who as they look at the trio on the road approaching the main east gates of Falnic, adds "It's not a troll is it?".
"No i don't think so" says the guard commander who is the older of the two cousins, he continues on with "Not as tall as any troll that I've seen".
Over the years there's been trolls in the port city, mostly working in the ship yards, helping to build the fishing boats that are prevalent in the city's fleet. Though there isn't any trolls in the city at the moment, and there hasn't been one seen in or near Falnic in half a dozen years.
"It's also beefier looking than any troll I've seen" says commander Galbin, who then turns and yells at the wyvern that's brought them here to shut up, as it's squawking in the typical fractious way that wyverns tend to do.
"Not to mention I've never seen, or heard of a troll carrying so many weapons" says the older of the two cousins as he continues their conversation when the wyvern settles down after it lets out a final squawk.
"That thing could equip our entire garrison" dryly says the commander, and though the justifier knows his cousin is exaggerating, he isn't half wrong. For the large green creature that's on the road approaching the city is fair bristling with weapons.
The wizard Sammacin looks away to their right, where the justifier Parquet El has come down from the wall, where the wyvern he arrived on, has landed. The other justifier who is accompanied by his own guard commander, is making his way towards them.
"That's them alright" says Parquet El the justifier when he joins them on the side of the road, to one side of the open gates "Though what that other thing is, i have absolutely no damn clue" adds the older justifier, who then continues with "If that's a goblin, then that's the biggest damn goblin in existence".
The wizard nods his head in agreement with the older justifier, then Sammacin asks the sorcerer El "Can that elf be trusted with what she said?" Parquet El tells the wizard "She wasn't lying, that's for certain" he continues with "She's adamant that those two attacked Kaellin and the elven lord he was visiting in Maladimbáh".
"And no one has heard from the mage since he left" quietly says the wizard Sammacin as they discuss one of their fellow justifiers who journeyed to the east and north, to the elven principality of Maladimbáh, to see if he could station some of his guards there, where it would be easier to raid down into the nomads plains. Certainly far more easier than it is to launch a raid from here on the coast of Belinswae.
"Take them in?" quietly asks Sammacin "Would be best" is the quiet reply of his fellow justifier, then the younger of two members of the authority here in Falnic adds "And that big green fellow?".
After a moment's consideration, the sorcerer Parquet El says "Might as well let it enter the city freely" the justifier who is seen as stickler for the laws of the city of Falnic, continues with "After he's been given the usual talking to like all visitors".
The wizard Sammacin nods to that, as does his cousin, commander Galbin, as well as justifier El's own guard commander. As they along with their guards they've brought with them, and the guards on gate duty, wait for the trio of travelers on the road to reach the gates of the city.
"Looks like we're going to get arrested" says lord Farque, Dorc da Orc growls at hearing that, and the undead warlord dryly says to him "Not you, you big fucking idiot" the heavily armoured deathlord then adds "Mira and i are".
The large ork who could've listened to the same conversation the lord and ruler of the lands Farque has been listening to, but he couldn't be bothered to do so. Grunts when he hears that, while next to him, Mira Reinholt the mage rolls his eyes, then sourly murmurs "Great".
"Don't worry about it" says the lord of the death realm who is taking his sword from across his back, Draugadrottin as he's also known by, to the people of his lands, says to the ork warleader "Here take this".
"Nah get fucked" says Dorc da Orc who quickly puts his hands behind his back "Dorc" quietly says lord Farque in a cool tone of voice. The ork weaponsmith grimaces, then holds out a large hand, he doesn't take the weapon as such, the undead warlord slaps the hilt of the Sword of Power into the open hand of Dorkindle, who winces as it touches him.
The warleader of the ork race sighs in relief as he's still in one piece, and as he puts the large sword onto the back of his weapon harness. Next to him, the mage Reinholt says to the heavily armoured deathlord "I take it we're going to let them arrest us?". "We  are" replies the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The once powerful mage and the ork weaponsmith are not in the least surprised at this, as they've been arrested, or apprehended by the authorities in cities, city-states, regions, principalities, kingdoms on purpose a number of times over the years. All with a purpose or reason for doing so, as is the case here.
As the exiled Vexilian mage hands the ork warleader his two swords, his unique double bladed air elemental designed weapon that was made in the lands Farque by a master swordsmith. And his newer sword, the one touched by dragon fire.
The lord of the death realm quietly says in the elven language to the mage Reinholt "One of those justifiers is in for a bit of a shock" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster lifts an enquiring eyebrow as he looks at the undead warlord. Who for a reply, slightly nods his full helmed head at Dorc da Orc.
Mira Reinholt can't help but grin at that as the three of them approach the east gates of the city of Falnic. As they do, the Vexilian mage in exile sees out of the corner of his eye, sees the deathlord of Farque give a few subtle hand signals to the ork weaponsmith, as well as murmuring something in the totally incomprehensible ork language.
Whatever the lord and ruler says and signals to the ork warleader, it causes Dorkindle to grunt in reply.
"You lot halt!" calls out a justifier's guard on gate duty after a horse and wagon and the two farmers who have brought it to Falnic, are allowed to enter the city. The trio from south of the equator come to a stop about a dozen paces short of the guards on gate duty, and the one who called out to them to stop, looks over at the nearby justifiers, who along with their guard commanders, and the other guards with them, make their way over.
"A moment of your time" says justifier Sammacin, who points at the large figure in the heavy plate armour, and the one in the black hooded cloak, and says "We've heard allegations concerning the two of you, we would like to get to the bottom of them" the wizard who is the youngest justifier in Falnic at this time adds "If all is well then you shall be let go, but if not".
The two in question glance at one another, then the one in the black hooded cloak says "Sure, no problem" the wizard Sammacin slightly frowns at that, and continues to do so when the traveler in black adds "You want us to come along with you then?".
After a moments hesitation where he glances at his fellow justifier Parquet El, the young wizard says "That would be appreciated" then justifier Sammacin says to the third traveler, the big green one, who rather stinks from a dozen paces away "My colleague here would like a word with you" he just gets a grunt from the large green creature.
As the two to be taken into questioning are lead off the road, and a combined squad of guards surround them, and their weapons are taken from them. In the case of the one in the black hooded cloak, that's a quartet of daggers. And for the one covered from head to toe in steel plate armour, that's a heavy plain mace. Which is far heavier than it looks, for the guard who it's handed to, drops it because it's so heavy. Dropping it on his foot, breaking it, and dropping him to the ground screaming in pain.
As two other justifier's guards pick up the weapon to carry it, and the wizard Sammacin heals his injured guard, while the traveler in the dark blue, black heavy plate armour says in slightly dry tone of voice "Should of mentioned it's heavier than it looks".
Near the road, justifier Parquet El is saying to the third traveler "Do you have any magical weapons?" the sorcerer has sensed for any, and the large green creature who is at least seven and half feet tall, and well in excess of seven hundred pounds in weight, doesn't have one, though he's virtually covered with every other type of weapon you could think of.
Justifier El frowns as he's sure the big green fellow after saying "Nah" follows it up with what sounds like "Cunt" but his voice is so deep and growling, with a thick accent, that it's difficult to tell.
Parquet El slightly shrugs, then continues on with his talk, basically a lecture, that he gives to all travelers visiting the city of Falnic, concerning the laws that must strictly be adhered to. As he does, the sorcerer El decides to read the mind of the big, green individual, to see what his intentions are here in the port city of Falnic.
The justifier Parquet El projectile vomits with force, then clutches at his head before toppling over onto the ground, completely unconscious. Some of the other guards rush over to his aid, as does his fellow justifier, the wizard Sammacin who has just healed his injured guard's broken foot by way of a spell.
"Must of been something he ate" says Mira Reinholt the mage in a completely normal tone of voice, even though he's laughing on the inside "Must of been" adds lord Farque as they're surrounded by justifier's guards, who are watching what's going on concerning the wizard who threw up and collapsed.
"What happened?" demands justifier Sammacin as he looks at the big green traveler, the young wizard slightly frowns as he's sure that the large green creature tells him "The silly cunt just blew chunks, then fell over like a drunk fucker". Though he's not sure as it's more than a little difficult to understand his strong accent, not to mention his deep, growling voice.
The younger of the two justifiers casts to see if the large creature is telling the truth, and finds out that he is. Sammacin is lucky that's all he casts, for if he had tried to read the mind of the big green traveler, he would of suffered the same fate as his fellow justifier, the sorcerer El.
As the young wizard sees to his unconscious colleague, lord Farque slightly nudges Mira Reinholt, then looks at the nearby wyvern. The once powerful mage looks that way too, and he hears the undead warlord in a normal, conversational way, say something in what the Vexilian mage in exile recognises as the dragon language.
The wyvern snaps it's head around, looks at the two of them and the guards surrounding them. Let out a loud squawk, then lift off in one powerful movement, and head away in the sky to the northeast.
As justifier's guards yell at it to return, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque looks at the other wyvern up on the city wall, it heard what he said, and is watching him with intent. Draugadrottin slightly nods his full helmed head in the direction the first wyvern took off in. The large winged creature perched upon the east wall of the city of Falnic lets out a loud squawk of it's own, then takes off. Knocking over it's rider, who was leaning against it, dozing in the morning sunshine.
As that wyvern wings it's way to the northeast, and the rider who was knocked over, clings onto a crenalation on top of the wall, yelling for help as he holds on for dear life. The mage Reinholt who runs a hand across his mouth to conceal a grin, murmurs in the elven language "What did you tell them to do?".
"To return home, to their hatching grounds" is the quiet reply of the death lord of Farque in the same language, he falls silent as the young justifier who is a wizard, who has just waved for Dorc da Orc to enter the city. Calls out for guards to try and retrieve the two wyverns, which is never going to happen.
And calls out that the two travelers who have been detained, to be taken to his main garrison.
Lord Farque and Mira Reinholt surrounded by a large squad of justifier's guards, enter the city of Falnic . . . . . .

Wonderful 47.

Belinswae. The City Of Falnic...

Dorc da Orc is the first one through the portal, followed by Mira Reinholt the mage then finally lord Farque. They come out of an arched doorway amongst some ruins of buildings on a hilltop off the southeast road out of the city of Falnic.
Below in the light of the morning sunshine, is a town at the foot of the hill, while a couple of miles away to the west are the walls of the city of Falnic, and beyond that the Great Western Ocean. Here in Belinswae near the coast it's noticeably cooler than it is on the nomads plains, much to the relief of the ork warleader.
The mage Reinholt who is holding his power within himself now since they're so close to a population that has spellcasters, looks back at the doorway, that seems so ordinary looking amongst the ruins.
"Clever" quietly says Mira Reinholt the mage, lord Farque glances at the once powerful mage, and sees what he's looking back at, the undead warlord nods his full helmed head in agreement. For indeed this side of the magical portal is so ordinary looking, infact it doesn't look like a portal at all. It's only when the heavily armoured deathlord spots some minute looking runes down one side of the stone doorway, and points it out to the Vexilian mage in exile, does the mage Reinholt actually truly believe that indeed it is a two way magical portal.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque turns back around and senses as he looks around, after a few moments lord Farque says "She's not here" as he can't sense the elven magic user Kaldeàlil Haldéilv anywhere in the vicinity, or within twenty miles of here.
"Damn, i thought she would've been here by now" murmurs the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, while a disgruntled grunt issues forth from Dorc da Orc who then mutters "Fucken tree eatin' hag" as their quarry isn't here in Falnic, which they assumed she was heading to.
If they had arrived a day earlier, the lord of the death realm would of immediately sensed the rest of the group.
But those led by Helbe the elven thief who were in the port city of Falnic, left the city on horseback well before dawn yesterday morning, heading down the very same road below. Before striking out straight east, across open ground on their way to the nomads plains. They're now well out of the range of the extraordinary senses of the undead warlord as they head to the elven principality of Maladimbáh.
"Might as well see what we can find out" says lord Farque, who then nods his full helmed head in the direction downhill, the three of them from south of equator set off, making their way through the rest of the ruins, and down the hill to the town and road below.
As they head downhill, the heavily armoured deathlord says to the once powerful mage "Better watch yourself here mage, from what i gathered traveling through south of here, is that the authorities, those justifiers aren't too keen on other spellcasters". "I know" says the exiled Vexilian mage, who continues with "They constantly checked up on Kaldeàlil when we were briefly here" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, then adds "They didn't even bother with me, they couldn't sense me because of that crap she forced me to drink".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque nods his full helmed head at hearing that, and he's just about to mention something else as they approach the back of the town, when they hear a scream. It's a woman picking vegetables in a field, a field of the dry, straw like grass that's prevalent to this part of Belinswae. Then there comes another scream, also from a woman, hanging up linen on a line between a citrus tree and a house. A adolescent girl, her daughter by the looks of it, who is standing in the open backdoor of the house, also screams before turning around and hurrying quickly inside.
"Seems you're as popular as ever Dorc" dryly says Mira Reinholt with a chuckle, the large ork who is watching a pair of tame wyverns flying up the coastline to Falnic, grunts then looks around, Dorkindle grins as another scream comes from a young woman looking out of a window, wondering what's happening when she suddenly spots the warleader of the ork race.
"Hehehe all the ladies love Dorc" chortles the ork weaponsmith, which causes the swordmaster Reinholt to guffaw, and shake his hooded head as the large ork grins as he watches the nearby women flee in terror at the sight of him.
The trio from south of the equator ignore the townsmen who come running with weapons to see what's going on. The three from the Southlands don't fail to notice that a lot of the weapons are large kitchen knives and cleavers, along with farm and gardening tools. There's very few actual weapons.
"Seems the justifiers keep a tighter control on the population here than they do along the coast further to the south" quietly says lord Farque, Mira Reinholt nods his hooded head in agreement, then he spots a handful of guards who belong to one of the justifiers, who are on duty here in this particular town, they have weapons for sure.
The townsmen stay back as they see the trio walk onto the dirt road behind the town, it's a track more than anything, that joins up with the road that goes through the town, which leads to the nearby city of Falnic.
The guards are a little standoffish too as the three from south of the equator look like they're heading around the town. Though one of the justifier's guards does eventually step forward as lord Farque, Dorc da Orc and Mira Reinholt walk by.
"Ah where are you lot going?" asks the justifier's guard "Falnic" replies the mage Reinholt who gestures to the port city a couple of miles away, while Dorkindle growls then mutters "Fucken cunts" as he overhears a few of the other guards chatting, who are wondering if he's a goblin, though the biggest goblin by far any of them have ever seen.
The justifier's guard goes to say something else, but the trio, who are more than a little intimidating to the locals. For even the swordmaster Reinholt at around six foot tall, is taller than all of them gathered at the back of the town. Have walked away from them, as they head around to the road that comes out of the town on it's way to the nearby port city.
As they do, the undead warlord listens to the justifier's guards who have regathered, then once the three of them walk around a building, that's used for the storage of the citrus fruit that's grown around here, the heavily armoured deathlord quietly says "Seems we've been expected".
"Oh?" says the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands "Well you and i were Mira" says Draugadrottin who easily overheard what the guards were discussing, the warleader of the ork race grunts as he heard it too, he paid attention to them because they called a big fat goblin a few moments earlier.
"Her?" says the mage who is in exile from his homeland of Vexil "Seems likely" says the lord of the death realm who then adds "We definitely know she's been here, and recently too" the undead warlord continues with "They were only told about us in the middle of the night".
They get around to the west side of the town, and as they're about to get onto the road to Falnic, a pair of the justifier's guards gallop by on their horses, heading quickly to the port city that's close by.
"We'll they're going to know about us when we get there" says Mira Reinholt, lord Farque shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders and says "It can't be helped" the undead being who is also known as Des'tier aka The Destroyer to an older generation of elves in the Southlands, continues in a dry tone of voice with "It's not as though we can exactly sneak in anywhere".
The mage Reinholt wryly smiles as he looks at the two towering figures to either side of him, who are definitely going to stick out in Falnic. He knows he will too, for though he was only in the streets of Falnic twice, once entering the city, and the other leaving the city, both times at night.
He garnered almost as many stares as the elven magic user Kaldeàlil Haldéilv did, because of his height. For the townsmen of Belinswae are predominantly short, it's what they have in common with their hated enemies the plains nomads.
The two mile walk to the port city of Falnic is pretty uneventful, it's just the usual stares and comments the trio who have traveled far and wide together for over a dozen years are accustomed to. The road isn't that busy anyway, considering the size of Falnic you would think it would be busier first thing in the morning.
The exiled Vexilian mage informs the other two that the port city has a small population in comparison to a similar sized city elsewhere, in particular the Southlands.
The deathlord of Farque nods his full helmed head in agreement to that, as he has sensed the amount of life in the port city. And indeed there's far less people in it compared to other cities of the same size.
As they approach the main gates on the east side of the city, lord Farque dryly says "There's our fucking welcoming party" as there's a number of guards, from various justifiers by the looks of their uniforms and tabards, who are on duty on either side of the gate, as well as on the road itself just infront of the open gates.
The undead warlord who is sensing as he normally does, says "A couple of the justifiers are approaching too" a few moments later and a wyvern flies over the wall and lands on the road near the east gate, and soon after another lands on the east wall of the city. A justifier gets off with the others on each of the large winged creature.
As they do, Mira Reinholt quietly asks lord Farque "So how are we going to do this?" . . . . . .