The Lost Ones 49.

Summer. The Island Chain In The Sultanate Of Dreese.

"Have you seen anymore of them?" asks Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy.
"No sir" is the reply from an officer in the Sultan's army.
"Very well then" says the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae, which is in the Southlands, all the way on the otherside of the continent.
"You and your men join this lot marching north" adds the spy Tanith gesturing at those on the dirt road that goes partway up the east coast of the island.
"A camp is being set up somewhere further north" continues the elf from the Southlands, who is a mercenary serving in the army of the Sultan of Dreese.
The young army officer nods, then asks "Have we defeated them sir?".
"It sure looks like it" is the reply from the elven spy who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses of his homeland, and is now an officer in the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque.
The officer in the Sultan's army grins, then he hurries away to where his men are waiting. Then they join the others on the dirt road and start marching northwards.
As they do, the elf from the Southlands glances at Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit who is standing next to him.
The halfling from the mainland of Dreese, shrugs his shoulders when he sees the spy Tanith glance at him.
The two of them who are standing on a slight rise on the inland side of the dirt road. Continue to watch a large element of the Sultan's army on this particular island march northwards.
While out in the channel, just a few hundred feet out from the shoreline. A ship is burning to the waterline. It's the last of the vessels in the Viceroy of Dreese's fleet.
As both his sea going fleet and small airfleet have been destroyed. And so has the vast majority of his army on the island on the otherside of the channel.
As for his army on this side, the west side of the channel of water that separates the two islands. Apparently they've been defeated too. Though that's not necessarily the fact as the sun sets in the sky to the west on what's been another warm tropical summer's day, here near the equator in the very north of the island chain that lies off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
Looking away to the south in the sky that's slowly getting darker as the sun begins to set in the west.
Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit says "I think that's him coming up".
Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, looks southwards too.
And in the distance in the sky, he spots the flagship of the Sultan of Dreese.
"Yeah that's him alright" says the spy originally from the elven principality of Alínlae.
The halfling from the mainland of Dreese, who in actual fact is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to find himself inhabiting the body of Jarjin Littlefoot.
Quietly says to the tall elf beside him "At least he kept out of the battle, which was pretty good".
Dalin nods his head in agreement with the halfling who is a former air sailor in the Sultan's fleet.
"That's about the only thing he's ever done the lord has told him to do" says Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman who is conversing in the elven language with the spy Tanith as the Sultan's soldiers continue to walk by where they're standing just off to the side of the dirt road.
"Which we can be grateful for" quietly says the elf from the Southlands.
The hobbit who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque grunts in agreement with that.
Then as the light begins to fade as the sun sets in the west, the former air sailor from the mainland of Dreese, gestures across to the beach, and up it as he says "There's Tovis and Beldane".
The spy Tanith spots the young engineer and the fighting cleric as well.
Then the two of them cross the dirt road, and make their way onto the beach where Tovis the war engineer and Beldane the cleric are heading their way.
A little bit later, when the sun has fully set and it's early evening. They step out of a gateway that Beldane has cast.
The fighting cleric from the kingdom of Nastell is the last one through the gateway. Which disappears when the powerful spellcaster drops the spell behind him.
They're on a beach further north along the shore. Above the beach on some clear ground.
The Sultan's army has set up a camp. As soldiers march in from the south along the coast. While a few hundred feet out from the beach. A number of the Sultan's sea going fleet are at anchor.
While in the early evening moonlight, ship's boats, ferry into the shore, food, supplies and equipment.
And take back to the ships, many of the wounded and injured who have made it to camp.
Looking around with his lowlight vision, Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson quietly asks "Where is he?" referring to lord Farque.
"He's gone to the north end of the island" is the reply from Tovis the war engineer, who then adds in the basic elven he's learnt "To get the prisoner".
Both the halfling and the elf nod to that, then councillor Littlefoot gestures towards the camp that's on the open ground above the beach and quietly says "Might as well go and make sure they stay put for the night, and don't wander off inland and cross to the far side of the island".
Dalin, Tovis and Beldane all nod in agreement to that. Then the four of them make their way across the sands of the beach to the camp. As more and more of the victorious army of the Sultan of Dreese make their way up the coast to the camp.
All the running lights on the airship are lit. With the last lamp just being lit by an able airman.
The airship that lord Farque has been on for the latter part of the day, and now into the night. Is near the north end of the island on this side of the channel.
"There's a beach at the northeast tip of the island" says lord Farque in the local dialect to the airship captain as they stand behind the helmsman at the wheel.
"We're heading there" adds the undead warlord.
"Yes sir" says the ship's captain who calls out some orders, including putting more lookouts up the masts, and on the bow.
The heavily armoured deathlord then says "And have someone go below and get that lackey from the court and that puppet of a spellcaster".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque who commands the Sultan's forces adds in a dry tone "I suppose those two idiots better see what's going on".
Both the captain and the helmsman grin when they hear that, then the ship's captain has a junior officer go below deck, to go and get the two that the foreign mercenary mentioned.
The captain along with his officers and crew know something's up. But what exactly, they're not sure of.
Just that late in the afternoon, one of the other foreign mercenaries, one of the two elves, suddenly appeared onboard.
And that he, along with the large heavily armoured figure of the one called both the lord, and the dead man. Were deep in conversation about something. Before the elven spellcaster disappeared a little bit later.
The court functionary, and the spellcaster in the cadre of practitioners of magic that the Sultan of Dreese has under his control make their way up on deck.
And after looking around and seeing that the dead man is on the stern deck with the captain.
The two of them remain in a midships. Wondering why they've been told to come up on deck.
Behind the visor of his full helm, a very faint smile appears on the face of lord Farque as he looks at the court functionary, and one of the Sultan's tame spellcasters. As he waits for the word to come from one of the lookouts up in the masts or on the bow deck of the airship.
It's not long before a lookout up the main mast calls down "There's a fire burning down at the edge of a beach!" followed by "A cook fire or camp fire!".
The captain glances at the large, heavily armoured figure next to him, who towers over him and everyone else onboard.
"That's it" says lord Farque who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands.
"Set down there" continues the undead warlord, who then after a brief pause adds "They're waiting for us".
"Yes sir" says the ship's captain, who starts calling out orders, which are repeated along the length of the twin masted airship that got through the battle unscathed.
As the vessel starts to drop in altitude in the night as it gets close to a cove at the very northeast of the island.
The heavily armoured deathlord who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to, The Destroyer.
Quietly says to the captain "Have a small squad of the crew armed".
"Sir?" asks the captain in the Sultan of Dreese's fleet.
"They might be needed" quietly says the undead being.
The ship's captain nods his head as he wonders what's going on. Then he quietly informs the first officer to arm five of the bosuns and senior midshipmen.
As the second moon of the world of Volunell rises to join the first that's already in the night sky.
The airship drops down towards the beach at the northeast tip of the island.
"Come along then" says the lord of the death realm, after the captain orders the helmsman to set the vessel down onto the beach.
Draugadrottin followed by the ship's captain and the first officer make their way forward along the deck.
As the crew look towards the small fire that's burning at the far end of the beach, near some of the palm trees along the top of the beach.
They're met by the bosuns and midshipmen who have been armed.
And in a midships, the deathlord of Farque briefly stops and says "You two with us".
The official from the Sultan's court, sourly smiles, but he does nod his head yes in response to the foreign mercenary.
Meanwhile the wizard with him, just stands there with a dead eye look, that many of the cadre of spellcasters under the direct control of the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese seem to have.
Lord Farque just jumps over the starboard rail as the airship settles on the sand of the beach.
Meanwhile the captain, the first officer, the five armed crew members. Then the court functionary and the wizard, climb down the cargo netting that's been put down over the starboard side of the airship.
The undead warlord waits for them, and as he does he looks out to the waters of the channel, and sees the moonlight reflecting off it.
He also looks over to the island on the otherside of the channel. Which with his unique vision, he can clearly see this night.
The lord of the death realm has sensed that the Sultan's forces have had a significant victory over on that island. Killing most of the enemy who were on that island, and capturing the rest.
While on this island, on the west side of the channel. The Sultan of Dreese's army has had a similar victory. Or so it seems to the victors.
Then once those who are joining him, have got down off the ship and onto the beach, the heavily armoured deathlord says to them "This way".
Des'tier leads them along the beach, heading up it, to where a small fire is burning under the branches of a palm tree.
As they approach the fire, those following the foreign mercenary they refer to as the dead man.
Finally spot what he's already seen, and seen for quite sometime as well.
Two people standing off to one side of the small fire, which occasionally sends sparks flying as it crackles away and burns.
As they get closer, those from the airship recognise one as the elven mercenary who wears the white hooded cloak, obviously a spellcaster, who was onboard their vessel for a little bit in the afternoon.
And as they get even closer to the fire, and the large, heavily armoured  foreign mercenary leading them comes to a stop.
They see the second person standing next to the elf in the white hooded cloak.
It's a man, obviously a Dreesian. Who after a few moments as they all come to a stop before the burning fire, they suddenly all recognise.
"Holy fucking shit it's the Viceroy" says the first officer in shock, a shock that they're all feeling as they see the man they've been after since he attempted a coup against his older brother the Sultan of Dreese.
An attempted coup that failed, which turned into a war between the two brothers and the forces loyal to them.
With him holding the left arm of the Viceroy of Dreese, Helbe the elven thief says "I captured him as he was trying to leave the island this afternoon".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, that lies off the coast of the Southlands, on the otherside of the continent, then he adds "Seems he knew he was defeated, and was trying to flee".
Nodding his full helmed head, lord Farque says "Good" he continues with "This day has been more than successful".
The crew from the ship are all grinning, so do the captain and first officer, though they're a bit more circumspect. As they both served under the Viceroy until his coup. And actually liked him. But they like a lot in the fleets, both sea and air. Are loyal to their nation first. Which is why they've been fighting on the side of the Sultan. Who rules their homeland of Dreese.
Also grinning, is the official from the Sultan's court. And as he grins in triumph, he steps forward and grabs the other arm of the Viceroy of Dreese.
As the court functionary does, lord Farque quietly says in a cool tone of voice to the nobleborn official "Take your hands of my prisoner".
The court functionary darts a look at the wizard from the Sultan's cadre, before he says to the undead warlord "Look here, this is".
"I don't care" says Draugadrottin as he interrupts the court official.
"Now take your fucking hands off my prisoner" adds the heavily armoured deathlord who looms over everyone else on the beach.
The armed air sailors are more than a little nervous, as are the captain and first officer. Whilst Helbe the elven thief stands there looking calm and collected. Even though he's trying not to laugh.
Also standing there looking quite calm, is the Viceroy himself. The younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese just watches on as a confrontation takes place over him.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque takes another step towards the court functionary. Who when the lord of the death realm looks straight into his eyes. He briefly sees a bright glowing flash of blue in the eyes of the one called the dead man.
The official from the Sultan's court hastily releases the arm of the Viceroy as he gulps in what can only be called fear.
"Remember" says the undead warlord who leads the Sultan's forces in the war against the Viceroy.
"It is us" adds lord Farque indicating himself and Helbe the elven thief "Who are to defeat the Viceroy's forces, and to find him and bring him before the Sultan".
Behind the heavily armoured deathlord, the airship captain and the first officer nod. As do the armed air sailors, as they've all heard the direct orders from the Sultan of Dreese to the group of foreign mercenaries.
"So that's what we're going to do" says Des'tier, who turns to the ship's captain, and tells him "Have the men surround the prisoner, and guard him with their lives".
"Yes sir" says the airship captain, who then tells the armed bosuns, and senior midshipmen "You heard him" followed by "Guard the Viceroy" he briefly pauses before adding "I mean his highness". As the younger brother of the Sultan has been stripped of his position.
"Back to the ship" says the undead warlord, and with prisoner surrounded by the armed air sailors, they walk back down the beach to the airship this warm summer's night in the equatorial tropics.
As they do, the wizard actually speaks up and says with a look at Viceroy of Dreese "I can't sense him".
"I know" says Helbe the elven thief, who then adds "It's quite a clever trick of mine, where i've cut him off from his magic".
The highly talented elven magic user continues with "I could try it on you if you like" followed by "You might be free of that predicament you're in if i do".
The elven masterthief who is a member of the royal family that rules the principality of Laerel, then adds in a slightly dry tone "Though that compulsion spell you're under might fry your brain as well, so there is that".
What little colour is in the face and cheeks of the wizard under the direct control of the Sultan of Dreese, completely disappears. And he hurries ahead of everyone else, and is the first to climb back up onboard the airship. As a grinning Helbe the elven thief watches him.
The undead warlord and the elven princeling from the Southlands watch as the air sailors and their captain and the first officer. Help the prisoner up the cargo netting to the starboard rail.
While the court official has to struggle up onboard the airship behind them.
Lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief share a look. Then they make their way onboard knowing that their plans are now and truly underway as they try to free Mira Reinholt the mage from the Sultan of Dreese . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 48.

Summer. The Islands Off The Coast Of The Mainland Of Dreese.

"Oh hell" mutters Helbe the elven thief.
"What is it?" asks the Viceroy of Dreese.
"Wait here" says the young elven noble form the island principality of Laerel, which is all the way on the otherside of the continent, off the coast of the Southlands.
As the elven magic user walks down the beach, the Viceroy sees what he's spotted.
In the afternoon sunshine reflecting off the water, there's a ship's boat approaching from the south.
As the local nobleman stands in the shade of the palm trees at the top of the beach.
He sees that the boat, must of come from around the cove directly to the south of this one, which lies at the northeast tip of the island. The Viceroy also sees that it's from one of his older brother's ship.
Those at the oars, rowing it are from the Sultan of Dreese's sea going fleet. With them in the boat are eight of the Sultan's personal guards.
The younger of the two nobleborn brothers who are at war with one another.
Has never really liked his older brother's battalion of personal guards.
Even before the change in attitude and personality of the Sultan of Dreese.
He dislikes them even more now. As they're all under a similar spell, though admittedly lighter touch. Than the cadre of the spellcasters who are under the direct control of the supreme leader of the Sultanate of Dreese.
The urge for many in the Sultan's army to become members of his battalion of personal guards is strong.
And when they do become members of his personal guards. They are definitely his most loyal soldiers. Though not necessarily his best.
As they have no proper commander, and just have a sprinkling of officers amongst them.
The Sultan of Dreese does not like to share power with anyone. Especially amongst the battalion of his personal guards. Who actively protect him, with some of them his personal bodyguards.
The Viceroy realises that his older brother must of sent the bulk of his personal guards into battle today.
And that they're under the command of the regular army. Which is infact, one of the Viceroy's captors. The foreign mercenary called the lord.
The member of the royal family that's ruled the Sultanate of Dreese for a number of generations.
Watches from the shade and the relative obscurity of beneath the thick palm trees along the top of the beach.
As the ship's boat comes into the shore. That the elven magic user who has been with him for most of the afternoon. Stops at the water's edge, and watches as the boat come in.
It's coming through a bit of a surf, as the water out in the channel between the two islands. Actually has it's own tide pattern, even though the water doesn't go in or out from the shores that face one another from across the channel.
But what does happen, is that during a high tide, there's a surge of water that comes into the channel from the south. As the winds and tide, are from the south, or to be exact the southwest throughout the island chain that lies off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
And when that water surges into the channel from the south. The usually calm, not to mention warm tropical water in the channel, picks up in intensity a bit. So that there's actually three to four foot rollers coming into the beach that the Viceroy of Dreese has watched the battle between his and his older brother's forces since early this morning from.
The local nobleman, who happens to be a fairly competent spellcaster, who at this moment in time is unable to touch his magical powers, due to there being a block on them courtesy of his captors.
Watches as the elven mercenary gestures and calls out something to those in the ship's boat coming in through the rolling surf towards the beach.
One of the personal guards to the Sultan of Dreese in the boat replies.
The Viceroy doesn't know what's being said as they're too far away to clearly hear what they're talking about.
But from the body language of the Sultan's personal guard in the boat doing all the talking, and by his tone, he's definitely being most insistent with whatever it is he's saying.
The younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese sees the foreign mercenary say something else, then shrug his shoulders, and turn around, and head back up the beach, coming in this direction.
The Viceroy then blinks in surprise as those in the ship's boat suddenly attack one another.
The Sultan's personal guards attack each other, as well as the sailors manning the oars.
The sailors in the Sultan's fleet do likewise. Attacking one another, as well as those in the battalion of the Sultan's personal guards who are onboard.
The Viceroy of Dreese, well former Viceroy to be exact, as he's been stripped of his position by his brother.
Sees one of his older brother's personal guards draw his shortsword and plunge it into the back of one of the sailors at the oars.
Two of the other personal guards to the Sultan go at one another with their daggers, grappling with one another as they do so.
They go overboard into the water as they repeatedly stab one another with their weapons.
One of the sailors has stood up in the bow, and with his oar, is swinging it at anyone behind him.
He misses most of them as they're busy trying to kill one another.
But he does connect, when the oar smashes into the head of another sailor.
Who is on top of one of the personal guards in the bottom of the boat, who he's trying to choke to death.
The Viceroy winces as the oar connects, and cracks the skull of that sailor.
Two more of the sailors go overboard. One is choking the other to death as they fall into the surf.
While the one being choked, is stabbing his dagger into the side and chest of the sailor choking the life out of him.
One of the personal guards to the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese. Has stood, and his swinging his axe at the others in the boat.
A head goes flying when he perfectly connects with the neck of one of the sailors who is bashing in the face of another of the sailors with the wooden bailing bucket.
The younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese looks away for a moment. And watches the elf in the white hooded cloak walking back this way.
The foreign mercenary, one of a small group of them who are working for the Sultan. Only because one of their number is a spellcaster in the cadre who are under the direct control of the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Isn't even looking back at what's happening at the edge of the water where those in the ship's boat are killing each other.
He only does so when he gets back beneath the shade of the palm trees and stands beside the Viceroy.
"I told them to leave and head back south" says Helbe the elven thief, who slightly pauses then adds "But they didn't listen".
The local nobleman just nods as he sees that there's only just one of the Sultan's personal guards still alive out of all of those who were in the ship's boat.
He's standing in the surf, breathing heavily, whilst bleeding from a number of stab wounds.
The Viceroy recognises him as the one who spoke to the elven mercenary in the white hooded cloak.
Then as a body floats by that personal guard to the Sultan of Dreese.
He takes his shortsword, and puts the tip of the weapon up to his throat and under his chin. Then he slowly pushes it under his chin and into his mouth and head.
The local spellcaster winces and mutters "Hell" as the last of those who were in the ship's boat kills himself.
"Can't have you being caught before you're supposed to be" says the highly talented elven magic user from the Southlands.
The young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel then dryly adds "That would definitely wreck all our plans if you did".
The elven masterthief who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque, listens to Narladene the ground pixie who has just landed upon his right shoulder.
The elven master assassin slightly nods his white hooded head after hearing what the naturally magical creature has to say.
Then the elven princeling says to the prisoner "I'll be back in a little while" he continues with "There's something i have to check on".
The elven princeling then disappears as he shifts away from the beach here at the northeast tip of the island on this side of the channel.
Up in the afternoon sky, Helbe the elven thief looks around then slightly nods when Narladene the ground pixie points and says "There".
The young elven noble form the island principality of Laerel briefly looks down the east coast of the island, then teleports away. And does so a couple more times, until he reaches an airship in the fleet of the Sultan of Dreese.
"How is he?" asks lord Farque when prince Helbenthril Raendril appears beside him on the stern deck of the airship.
"He's fine" is the reply of the elven magic user as the two of them converse in the language of the elves.
The elven master archer follows the undead warlord to the port rail as the airship flies slowly northwards up the east coast of the island.
The member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, looks away to the west, to the otherside of the island when the heavily armoured deathlord nods his full helmed head in that direction.
The elven masterthief who also happens to a member of the royal family that rules the principality of Laerel, slightly nods his hooded head then quietly asks "How many do you think?".
"Over a thousand, and more all the time" is the reply of lord Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands.
Glancing at the nearby officers and crew here on the stern deck, the elven master assassin asks the lord of the death realm "Any of them spotted them?".
"None" replies the undead being who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to, The Destroyer.
"Hopefully they continue to do so" adds the undead warlord who is in command of the Sultan of Dreese's forces in the war against the Viceroy of Dreese.
The heavily armoured deathlord who in the local dialect, tells the captain to turn back to the south, and go back down the east coast of the island.
Then tells prince Helbenthril Raendril in the elven language "The more of them who survive this battle the better".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque briefly pauses, before he continues on in a slightly dry tone of voice with "Well that's if the Viceroy is fucking successful".
"There is that" quietly says the highly talented elven magic user who nods in agreement with Des'tier.
Then as the airship finishes it's turn, and the elven master archer looks down out over the channel, where the naval engagement that's been going on since well before dawn, is all but over.
With just one of the Viceroy's ships still in action, fighting against a number of the Sultan's sea going fleet.
The young elven noble who is the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel says to the undead warlord "Quite a few losses down there on our side".
Glancing down at the channel between the two islands here at the very north of the chain of islands that lie off the coast of the mainland of Dreese, lord Farque says "I know" followed by "Good".
The heavily armoured deathlord continues with "The army has too" followed by "Especially over on the other island" he then adds after a brief pause "So has the Viceroy's forces over there".
The lord of the death realm then quietly tells the elven masterthief "We'll have to take him prisoner so to speak sometime during the night".
Helbe the elven thief nods his hooded head when Des'tier adds "I don't want our forces heading to the west coast searching for him, and finding those of his army who have retreated to over there".
"This lot will have their victory once he's been caught" continues the large undead being in the dark blue, black full suit of heavy plate armour.
"Which hopefully won't last" murmurs the elven princeling from Laerel.
Draugadrottin nods his full helmed head in agreement, then he asks the elven master assassin "What did he make of the plans?".
"As well as could be i guess" is the reply of the elven spellcaster from the Southlands, who continues on with "Although there's a glimmer of hope there, he thinks there's a fairly good chance it will completely fail".
The elven master archer then adds "Not that he's voiced that out loud" the elven princeling from Laerel follows that with "He's putting on an air of confidence that he will be successful or at least a chance of success".
"That's something i suppose" quietly says Draugadrottin, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque is silent for a few moments then he adds "Let's hope it just fucking works".
Both Helbe the elven thief and Narladene the ground pixie are silent, but not in agreement with what the lord of the death realm just said.
As they hope their plans to release Mira Reinholt the mage from the control of the Sultan of Dreese is successful. Though admittedly they know there's a good chance it may fail.
"Fucking mage" mutters Des'tier in the ancient language of command, who is still annoyed that the mage Reinholt has got them all into this situation. When he accidentally cast a rift/void spell that brought them here to the otherside of the continent.
Which saw the mage himself end up in the cadre of spellcasters under the direct control of the Sultan of Dreese. And the rest of them fighting for the Sultan in his war against his younger brother the Viceroy.
And that they'll only get the Vexilian mage in exile released if they defeat the Viceroy's forces for good. And that the Viceroy is finally taken prisoner and brought before the the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Then switching back to the elven language, the undead warlord says "You better get back to him".
Helbe the elven thief nods his hooded head, then he disappears as he shifts away, and heads back to the beach on the northeast tip of the island where the Viceroy of Dreese is . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 47.

Summer. The Sultanate Of Dreese.

Heading through the trees towards a hill, Tovis the war engineer stops. Then waves to the soldiers to his right, to keep heading in that direction.
Then the young engineer who is originally from the kingdom of Druvic, and is now a captain in the armies of Farque.
Looks at the handful of the Sultan's personal guards to his left. And nods for them to go straight ahead.
They do so without question, following the commands of the foreign mercenary.
They would of done so anyway, for the simple fact that going straight ahead, is the quickest and direct way to the village at the base of the hill they're approaching.
The war engineer then looks at the rest who are following him, including Beldane the cleric.
And gestures for them to keep following him, as he heads off at angle to the left, making his way through the tropical forest, towards the clearing where the village sits at the base of the hill.
This island, just like the other one on the east side of the channel.
Doesn't have much in the way of inhabitants.
As it's at the very northern end of the island chain that's part of the Sultanate of Dreese.
Far from any large town on one of the larger islands further south in the chain.
This close to the equator, there aren't a lot of people living on any islands. Whether they be part of the nation of Dreese or otherwise.
This island, like the other one across on the otherside of the channel, has just a few villages on it.
And most if not all the local inhabitants fled to the south in the islands over the last couple of weeks. When the Viceroy's forces turned up here, and decided to make their last stand here on the two islands that are separated by a channel.
The war engineer from the Southlands, which is over twelve thousand miles away to the west, on the otherside of the continent.
Looks up into the clear blue sky, on what's another warm tropical summer's day here in the island chain off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
To make sure there's no airships, from both fleets flying directly overhead.
Then he stops at the edge of the trees, and he nods for Beldane to come forward beside him.
As away to the right, he spots some of the Sultan's personal guards, leave the treeline, and run in a crouch. Head across the open ground to the village at the base of the hill.
Both the young engineer from the kingdom of Druvic and the fighting cleric from the kingdom of Nastell, two nations that are in the Southlands.
Watch as the Sultan's personal guards are shot down by enemy archers and crossbowmen in the village.
Just one of the handful of the personal guards to the Sultan of Dreese, gets close to the village.
Falling thirty feet or so short of a house at the edge of the village.
He's crawling along the ground, with an arrow in his side.
When both Tovis and Beldane see an enemy soldier with a crossbow pop up at an open window, and let loose the bolt in his weapon.
Which takes the wounded personal guard to the Sultan, crawling along the ground, in the top of the dead.
"A pity" quietly murmurs Tovis the war engineer to the powerful spellcaster beside him.
"Yes, a pity" is the quiet murmur from Beldane the cleric after Tovis sent more of the personal guards to the Sultan of Dreese to their deaths.
The young engineer looks back at the soldiers in the army of the Sultanate behind him and the fighting cleric.
And he gestures for them to spread out to the left, and quietly says to them "Wait for my signal".
The war engineer, who once served in the army of a baron Harkonin in his homeland of Druvic. Hopes the soldiers he sent to the right around the village, are spreading out that way.
And that they too, will wait for his signal as he told them to.
Tovis assumes they will, as the soldiers in the Sultan's army, follow his and the rest of the group's orders without complaint.
They're easier to control compared to the Sultan's personal guards. Who tend to only do what the mercenaries from the Southlands command them to do, during battle like they are now.
Which is exactly what lord Farque wants them to do. As the undead warlord wants to get rid of as many of the Sultan's personal guards during this battle as possible.
And so far, that's happening with ease. As they're always sent in first against the enemy. Something they would probably do anyway. Since they're so willing to fight for the cause of the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese.
"Ready?" quietly asks Tovis the war engineer.
"I am" replies Beldane the cleric with a nod of his head.
Then the young engineer who is a captain in the armies of Farque, quietly tells the fighting cleric "Go for it".
The cleric who is a member of the church of Glaine, a god who is called by another name on this side of the continent.
Stops holding his power within himself, and casts a blast spell at one of the houses on this side of the village.
The fighting cleric then puts up wards around himself and Tovis, as at least half of the house he targeted, is shattered apart in a cloud of debris.
That's the signal for the attack upon the village. And those of the soldiers in the Sultan's army who have spread out to the left and right.
Charge from the treeline, and head across the open ground towards the village at the base of the hill.
Both Tovis and Beldane wait a few moments as they watch the Sultan's soldiers attack the village.
Then they too leave the relative safety of the tropical forest, and cross the open ground to the village that some of the Viceroy forces are in.
"Don't know why I'm the one climbing a bloody tree" loudly mutters Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit, who then adds in a disgruntled tone "Some kind of damn tree snake nearly bit me".
Down on the ground watching the halfling climb down the branches of the tree, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy rolls his eyes, then murmurs "Quit your moaning" followed by "If you're killed, at least you'll come back".
"Hmmmmm maybe i should of let that snake bite me after all" murmurs Jarjin Littlefoot in the halfling language, who then switches back to the elven language the two of them have been conversing in, and quietly says "Help me down".
The spy Tanith reaches up to the lowest branch in the tree, and the elf who stands six foot four inches tall, takes a hold of the hobbit who is from the mainland of Dreese, and brings him down to the ground.
"Thanks" murmurs the halfling who is a former air sailor in the Sultan of Dreese's fleet.
Then Jarjin Littlefoot, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of the hobbit from the coastal nation of Dreese.
Says to the tall elf from the principality of Alínlae in the Southlands "There's quite a few of them making their way along a trail towards a stream, that looks like it goes back to the coast".
The spy Tanith, who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses in his homeland of Alínlae, and is now a senior officer in the rangers and scouts division of the armies of Farque, nods his head.
Then he turns and looks around at those waiting behind him, and he quietly says in the common language "You lot head out" pointing at the first ten, who are all personal guards to the Sultan of Dreese.
"How far away are they?" murmurs the elven spy in his native language.
"About four hundred yards or so" is the murmured reply from Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman in the same language.
"There's a group of the enemy about four hundred yards that way" quietly says Dalinvardél Tanith in the common language, as he points away to the northeast, back in the direction of the coast.
"They're on a trail through the forest" quietly continues the elf from the Southlands, who then adds "I want you to try and attack them from behind, while the rest of us hit them from the side of the trail".
"How many?" murmurs the spy Tanith in the elven language.
"About fifty or sixty of them" is the whispered reply in the same language from the halfling who is a former air sailor.
"There's about thirty of them" quietly lies the elf from the principality of Alínlae in the Southlands, to the personal guards to the Sultan in the common language.
Then Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, tells them "They shouldn't pose too much trouble, and you lot should get them running in a panic, so the rest of us can hit them as they're fleeing".
The personal guards to the supreme ruler of Dreese, all nod in enthusiasm as they want in on the fighting.
The elven spy, who like the rest of the small group from the Southlands, who are essentially mercenaries in Sultan of Dreese's forces, infact the only mercenaries.
Says to the ten personal guards to the Sultan "Get going" followed by "Try and give us a bit of time to get in position".
The ten guards in the battalion of about five hundred or so, who are separate from the rest of the army, as they're slightly under the direct control of the Sultan, quickly move off through the tropical forest, here in the interior of the island.
As they do, Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson murmurs in elven to the spy Tanith "Those idiot guards will attack the first sight they get of them".
"I know" murmurs Dalin in the same language, who then adds "Well, i certainly hope they do".
The halfling from the mainland of Dreese nods in agreement with that, then the spy Tanith waves for the remainder of the soldiers to follow after him and Jarjin Littlefoot, as they set off through the tropical forest.
It's well after midday now, and the battle has been going on for quite some time, as it started out on the water, well before dawn this morning.
And back near the coast, lord Farque looks up as he walks through part of the tropical forest that covers a lot of this island, as it does the island on the east side of the channel.
A channel that at it's widest, is nearly two miles. And at it's narrowest, is only about a quarter of a mile wide, if that.
The undead warlord looks up again, and leaps up into one of the taller trees to be found in the tropical forest.
The heavily armoured deathlord looks out to the channel, as sees that there's still a few ships from both fleets engaged in the naval battle.
Though the bulk of the Sultan's sea going fleet in the channel, are close to the shores in the channel of both islands.
As they deposited most of the Sultan's army onto the two islands that are separated by the channel of water. Here near the equator, at the very northern end of the chain of islands off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
The lord of the death realm watches as one of the Sultan's ships slowly sinks out in the channel.
While nearby, one of the Viceroy's ships, is burning. Though not with ordinary flames. As a lot of it is covered with blue coloured flames.
As it's been repeatedly hit by the same spell by one of the practitioners of magic in the Sultan's fleet.
As that vessel drifts uncontrollably towards a rocky outcrop on the shores of the other island, near where the channel is at it's narrowest.
Lord Farque glances up into the clear, blue early afternoon sky, and murmurs "This way you fucks".
The large, heavily armoured deathlord as he stands upon a branch that could very well break beneath his weight at any moment now.
Slightly nods his full helmed head, then he slightly crouches, and from near the top of the fifty tall tree, leaps straight up into the sky. Nearly sixty feet straight upwards.
The ship's captain spins around when he hears a vaguely familiar voice say "Head north" after he hears a slight thud on the deck behind him.
"Sir?" says the surprised captain, some of his officers and the helmsman turn as well, and they're just as surprised as he is.
"How did you get onboard?" asks the captain in the Sultan's airfleet.
"I jumped onboard" says lord Farque is a totally nonplussed tone of voice, who then says "Now head north" followed by "And rise up".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque who basically commands the Sultan's forces, continues with "You're too fucking low, you might get hit by an enemy spellcaster down below".
Forgetting all about how the large, heavily armoured foreign mercenary got onboard. The captain starts shouting out orders. 
And the airship that was heading inland from the coast across the island, turns to starboard and starts heading north, rising in altitude as it does so.
Lord Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, steps forward to stand next to the captain.
"Is that spellcaster onboard in our fleet?" asks the lord of the death realm, who then adds "Or?".
The captain along with the first officer, both slightly shake their heads no.
Then the airship captain quietly says to the undead being "No sir" quickly followed by "He's with a representative from the Sultan's court too".
"Fuck" sourly says the undead warlord, which is what the captain and his officers, along with crew too. Feel like saying as well, concerning who they have onboard with them from the Sultan's court.
But they're too afraid to voice that. Not so the foreign mercenary who is in command of the Sultan of Dreese's forces in the war against the Viceroy of Dreese.
"I see them" says the deathlord of Farque when the captain tells him "There they are" followed by "Coming back this way".
"Keep following the coast north" says the undead being who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to, The Destroyer.
The lord of the death realm continues with "I want to see how things are elsewhere".
The ship's captain nods, and says "Yes sir". While the first officer quietly murmurs "They're not going to like that". Referring to the two men who quickly making their way back along the deck to aft.
The representative from the Sultan's court when he reaches the stern deck with the rather dead eye looking wizard beside him. Glares at the large figure in the dark blue and black heavy plate armour standing next to the captain, who is beside the helmsman.
"Captain you are to fly inland" says the rather pompous looking fellow who is a member of the Sultan's court, who then adds "Those are your orders".
"My orders are to fly north" states the ship's captain, who knows exactly who is in command here. The man who has won victory after victory for the Sultan of Dreese in the war against the Sultan's younger brother, the Viceroy.
"They are not, you are" says the court representative, who is interrupted by lord Farque, who tells him "The captain has his orders" followed by "If you don't like them, then you can jump fucking overboard you piece of fucking shit, and take that fucking puppet with you" as he nods his full helmed head at the wizard who is part of the Sultan's cadre of spellcasters.
The representative from the Sultan's court, who has never been spoken to like that before in his life, ever. Stands there, mouth agape, as he looks at the foreign mercenary who commands the Sultan's forces.
The heavily armoured deathlord takes a step forward towards the court representative, and the wizard who is under the Sultan's direct control, and he says in a cold, tone of voice "Well?".
The court representative, who is a member of the local nobility, nervously backs away, taking the wizard with him. They turn, and hurry along the deck, then they head down a ladder to below deck.
"Ignore any orders that jackass tries to give you" says Draugadrottin to the ship's captain "After I've left the ship too" adds the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Yes sir" says the captain to the foreign mercenary who is extremely popular amongst the Sultan's army and fleets, as he's won victory after victory for them in the war against the Viceroy's forces.
And no doubt will do so again here, on the two islands separated by a channel of water, at the very northern end of the island chain off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
As both the first officer and the helmsman grin after watching what just happened.
Des'tier wanders over to the port rail, and looks down. Though not before he looks away to the west across the island, in the direction of the west coast.
He has sensed, and now caught a glimpse of quite a lot of the Viceroy's forces retreating to the west coast of this island.
Which is what he wants them to do. As he wants a fair few of them to survive this battle.
That's why he's ordered the rest of the group from the Southlands, to have the fighting take place on the eastern half of the island, and up along the east coast.
For it looks like the Sultan's forces are going to be victorious in this battle. Just as lord Farque wants it to appear, as the battle between the armies and fleets of the Sultan and Viceroy of Dreese continues . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 46.

Summer. The Islands Of Dreese. Off The East Coast Of The Continent.

Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit climbs over the side of the boat as it nears the shore, and he drops into the water as most of the others in the boat have done.
The halfling from the mainland of Dreese, goes completely beneath the surface of the water for a moment.
He gasps as he pops his head back up out of the water.
The hobbit who was previously in the airfleet of the Sultan of Dreese. Who is just glad the water is warm.
Starts kicking to propel himself forward, as he's not able to touch the sea floor yet. As the others are doing, as they walk into the island through the water.
As he paddles towards the shore, Jarjin Littlefoot slightly grimaces as he hears an explosion somewhere behind him in the channel between the two islands.
Then he looks to either side of him, and sees others in the water heading towards the island that's on the west side of the channel.
He sees a boat that has put out from one of the ships that has sailed in close to the island.
Explode in the water as it's hit by an enemy spellcaster. Bits of wood and bodies go flying in the air from the explosion, that sends water flying up into the air too.
"Fuck me" mutters Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit, who then grimaces as he gets a mouthful of sea water, which he then spits out.
The halfling, who is infact really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to find himself inhabiting the body of the hobbit who is from the mainland of Dreese.
Hopes to the tundra gods that he isn't hit by some random spell as he paddles towards the island on this side of the channel.
Then he briefly pauses as he thinks about it. And realises that getting hit by any old spell isn't such a bad idea.
Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman isn't totally against the idea of getting himself killed in battle today.
For the simple reason, he isn't entirely happy with the body he's in at the moment.
Oh sure, the senses of the halfling are far superior to any of the humans he's been over the years.
But that's probably the only advantage of being a halfling.
There's far more disadvantages than advantages at being a hobbit.
The chief of which is truly apparent at a time like this. Where he's at a serious disadvantage.
Being the height he is, barely four foot tall. Isn't doing his chances of success at reaching the shore any good.
Infact he still can't touch the ground beneath the water, as everyone else around him is doing, as they make their way to the closest beach on the island.
As he continues to paddle towards the shoreline, the halfling who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque.
Wonders if his life will come to an end again sometime today during the battle.
And though Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson absolutely hates dying. Something he's done quite a number of times over the years.
He must admit, death in battle today might not be such a bad thing.
After all, there's bound to be plenty of other bodies all around that he can return back to life in. Pretty much all of which are human.
The halfling who previously served as an air sailor in the Sultan's fleet. Who as he finally gets his feet down on the sandy bottom beneath the water. And is contemplating going out of his way to get himself into even more danger so that he'll get killed.
Suddenly hears a splash in the water right behind him, then something moving through the water towards him.
Jarjin aka Zubutai the son of Timagin goes to turn to see what it is. When he's suddenly grabbed by the back of his tunic and leather armoured vest, and picked up out of the water.
"Thanks" sourly murmurs the halfling as lord Farque carries him towards the beach, like he's a dog or cat by the scruff of the neck.
The hobbit from the mainland of Dreese as he hangs there, sourly smiles as water drips off him, as he's carried to shore by the undead warlord.
Once on the beach, the heavily armoured deathlord drops Jarjin Littlefoot, who lands on his feet.
And as lord Farque says to some of the nearby guards and soldiers who have just made it to the beach too "You lot into the trees, some of the enemy are back in there" followed by "And you others, head north up the beach".
And as the lord of the death realm is answered by a chorus of "Yes sir" by the Sultan's soldiers and even the supreme ruler of Dreese's personal guards.
Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman looks around to see what's happening.
The former air sailor who noticed that the lord and ruler of the lands Farque sent some of the Sultan's personal guards into the trees where the enemy are, and the soldiers of the Sultanate's army north along the beach.
Sees that though the battle out in the channel has significantly dropped away since the heavy fighting this morning.
There's still ships from both fleets, engaged in battle in the channel that runs between the two islands.
Two islands that are at the very northern end of the chain of them, that are off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
The hobbit nods his head, when lord Farque says to him in the halfling language "Come on".
And as they start making their way north along the sandy beach, as more boats that have put out from the nearby ships, come in close to the island, and more of the Sultan's forces wade through the water towards the island.
Jarjin Littlefoot looks across to the otherside of the channel. And with his naturally enhanced eyesight.
He watches one of the airships in the Sultan's fleet. Above that island to the east, flying at an angle to the ground, shooting off some of it's magetubes at the enemy positions on that island.
The former air sailor, who figures that will probably happen here on this island sometime later today or at night.
Quietly asks the large, heavily armoured figure walking beside him on the beach "Where is he?".
"At the north end of the island" is the reply from Draugadrottin as he's also known as, by the people of his lands.
"He'll be safe there as the battle continues on" adds the undead warlord who effectively leads the Sultan's forces in the war against the Viceroy of Dreese.
Jarjin Littlefoot nods his head at knowing their prisoner, the Viceroy of Dreese, is safe at the northern end of the island.
The halfling who is a member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, has to walk quickly to keep up with the heavily armoured deathlord.
As Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman hops over the dead body of one of the Sultan's personal guards. And looks to his right, and sees a few bodies in the water, and a half wrecked ship's boat floating by in the warm tropical waters.
He asks the undead being known as Des'tier to an older generation of elven kind "How's things going?" followed by "With the battle?".
"We're winning I'd say" is the reply of the lord of the death realm, who then shouts in the local dialect "Into the trees!" and "After them!". At some of the Sultan's forces, as enemy archers shoot at those on the beach, and the others making their way through the water towards it.
The halfling who previously served as an air sailor in the Sultanate's airfleet, winces and stands right beside Draugadrottin, on the side closest to the water, as arrows and crossbow bolts come flying their way.
Councillor Littlefoot who hears a bolt or arrow ping off the heavy plate armour of the undead warlord.
Doesn't mind getting himself killed today in battle. But he doesn't want to get hit by an enemy arrow or bolt.
For the simple reason it probably won't kill him straight away, unless it's an extremely lucky shot.
And he doesn't fancy getting wounded, as that's just plain out annoying. Even though he carries a healing potion to cure any wound or injury.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque waves in encouragement to a couple boatloads of the Sultan's soldiers, who jump from the two boats, and make their way quickly through the water towards the shore.
Then Des'tier, which translates to, The Destroyer, continues on his way along the beach here towards the southern end of the island on the west side of the channel.
The former air sailor, Jarjin Littlefoot sticks close to his side, as more and more of the Sultan's forces make their way onto the island, as they've already done on the island on the otherside of the channel.
Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy steps quickly to one side, and with his longbow drawn, he lets loose an arrow through the trees.
Taking one of the enemy archers in the face, taking a fair chunk of the man's head off too.
"Go" orders Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy, and those of the Sultan's men who are with him, head further into the tropical forest, in pursuit of the Viceroy's soldiers.
The elven master spy from the principality of Alínlae, which is located all the way on the otherside of the continent, in the Southlands.
Makes his way back the way he's come from, telling any of the Sultan's soldiers and personal guards he comes across, to head further inland.
The elf who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses in his homeland of Alínlae, who is now an officer in the armies of Farque.
Walks out from the trees, and makes his way onto the beach. He sees some of the Sultan's personal guards who have just arrived on the island, and waves them in his direction.
When they get close, he tells them to head inland, into the tropical forest, that covers a lot of this island, as it does on the other island, across on the east side of the channel.
The elf from the Southlands who like the rest of the group from the otherside of the continent, is essentially a mercenary, serving in the Sultan of Dreese's military.
Not willingly though, as they've been basically forced to, as one of their number, is under the control of the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese.
He points north along the beach, and tells a trio of the Sultan's soldiers who have just come ashore, to head that way.
The spy Tanith knows that lord Farque wants as many of the Sultan's personal guards who have been sent into battle, to be killed.
So Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Sends the Sultan's personal guards he sees, straight towards where he knows the enemy are.
They like those in the Sultan's army, follow his orders, as they do the rest of the others in the group from the Southlands, who find themselves here all the way on the otherside of the continent.
In an island chain off the east coast of the continent, the coast where the mainland of the Sultanate of Dreese is located.
The elven spy from the principality of Alínlae, looks out into the channel, and spots Tovis the war engineer, and Beldane the cleric in a ship's boat, approaching this beach.
Dalin sees that the fighting cleric has seen him, and Beldane is pointing away to the south along the beach.
The spy Tanith looks that way as an energyball passes over the trees away to his left, on it's way out across the channel, towards one of the Sultan's ships that's coming in close to the island.
The elf in the gray hooded cloak spots lord Farque and Jarjin Littlefoot making their way along the beach, heading this way.
After the elven spy sends a boatload of the Sultan of Dreese's soldiers who have just come ashore, northwards along the beach.
He goes and meets the undead warlord and the halfling who is really Zubutai the barbarian hordesman.
"North?" asks Dalinvardél Tanith as they wait for the boat that Beldane and Tovis are in, to get closer to the beach.
"Yes" is the reply of lord Farque as they wait at the water's edge.
Jarjin Littlefoot, who stands there a little nervously as he looks towards the trees just beyond the beach.
Makes sure to keep the heavily armoured deathlord between him and the nearby treeline.
As the fighting cleric from the kingdom of Nastell, and the young engineer from the kingdom of Druvic. Two nations that are in the Southlands.
Jump into the water, and wade ashore on what's a warm tropical summer's day here in the very north of the island chain off the coast of the mainland of Dreese.
Dalin quietly says to Draugadrottin "Taking fairly heavy losses" followed by "Over on the other island more than this one" he briefly pauses before adding "Though i suspect the fighting here on this side of the channel will get heavier, and just as brutal".
"I know" says lord Farque, who then adds "And let's hope so" in response to the spy from the elven principality of Alínlae as they wait for Beldane and Tovis to reach the shore.
Some more of the Sultan's personal guards get to the beach, and the undead warlord orders them inland.
Then the lord of the death realm tells the soldiers who reach the shore with the powerful cleric and the war engineer. To head north along the shore.
Then the group from the Southlands follows after them, as they head northwards too.
Beldane the cleric nods his head, when the deathlord of Farque quietly tells him "Keep holding your power within yourself" followed by "There's quite a few of the Viceroy's spellcasters on this island".
And to prove that point, a fireball passes just thirty yards infront of them, narrowly missing some of the Sultan's soldiers further along the beach. As it heads out across the channel, towards one of the Sultan's ships that has come in close to the island.
As they head to the rendezvous point that lord Farque has picked out at this end of the island.
Where many of the officers in the Sultan's army who have been assigned to attack the enemy army, will be.
The undead being called Des'tier in the elven language, quietly says to the others "The more of the Sultan's guards we get rid of during the fighting, the better".
He continues with "Remember, send them into where the fighting is the heaviest".
The rest of the group all nod as they hurry north along this beach along the east side of the island.
An island which now will become the focal point of the battle. A battle where the Viceroy of Dreese's forces are essentially making a last stand, as the war between the two brothers. The Sultan and the Viceroy, finally comes to a head . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 45.

Summer. The Island Chain. The Sultanate Of Dreese.

He sits upon a white sand beach on the east coast of the island, towards the northern end. Watching the battle that got underway earlier in the morning.
He's been left alone by his captors. Knowing he's got no where to go. Besides the elven spellcaster who brought him here, told him he'll be knocked out if he attempts to leave.
The Viceroy of Dreese sits upon the sand, in the shade of a palm tree. Next to him is a corked water jug, and some food wrapped in cloth.
He's barely touched them as he watches the battle that began well before dawn this morning.
He's got a view across the channel to the other island that's close by. And as the naval battle continues in the channel. He knows his own troops are fighting his older brother's soldiers over on that island to the east. And no doubt, fighting will break out on this island sometime during the day.
The local nobleman, who happens to be a spellcaster, who at this moment in time, is unable to touch his magic as it's been denied to him.
Looks up into the clear blue summer sky, here in the very north of the island chain, that's off the coast of the mainland of Dreese, close to the equator.
And he sees one of his older brother's airships trailing smoke as it streaks across the morning sky.
He doesn't know if it was hit by magetubes from one of his own airships. Or by a spellcaster in his forces.
But whatever or whoever did it, brings a smile to the face of the Viceroy of Dreese as he watches the damaged enemy airship head northwards, slowly dropping down towards the water, which no doubt it will eventually hit.
The local spellcaster from his position on the beach. North of the action taking part in the channel between the two islands.
Can see that his forces, the bulk of what remains of those loyal to him after his failed coup against his older brother the Sultan of Dreese.
Are putting up a hell of a fight on the water, and in the air. The Viceroy figures it's similar on the ground, over on the island to the east, on the otherside of the channel. And no doubt, they'll do likewise once fighting breaks out on this island that he's on.
The local nobleman was told by one of his captors, the one called the lord. That the battle here will be a fairly tough one for both sides. And that his older brother's forces, with it's superior numbers. Will take significant losses. Significant losses that are on purpose to. As his captor, the lord freely admitted that was his plan.
The Viceroy of Dreese, well former Viceroy to be exact, as his older brother the Sultan of Dreese has stripped him of his position.
Clearly sees that plan in action as he watches the battle from one of the white sand beaches along the east side of the island that lies to the west of the channel.
The nobleborn spellcaster sees out in the channel, one of his ships in his fleet sinking, as it's on fire.
Though there's a badly damaged enemy frigate close to it, limping away, with one of it's masts down.
And a smaller enemy cutter, that's nearby too. And that's badly damaged as well.
Infact there's still fighting going onboard that vessel in the Sultan's fleet. As some of the Viceroy's forces who boarded it, are fighting to the death.
The local nobleman looks away to the south when he spots something out of the corner of his eye.
He's not to sure, but it's either an energyball or a fireball. Whatever it is, it's red. And it's left this island, about a mile and half away down the coast to the south from where he is.
And it's going out across the channel, just a few feet above the water.
The Viceroy of Dreese slightly frowns as he wonders where it's going to. Then he faintly grins as he sees it's trajectory will take it right into the path of the enemy frigate with a mast down, that's trying to sail away from the battle.
The younger brother of the supreme ruler of Dreese sees the damaged enemy frigate trying to turn. It can, but barely, and it doesn't deviate too much from it's current course in the channel.
The local nobleman can only assume that the enemy crew and soldiers onboard it can see what's coming towards them.
And with the state of their vessel, they're unable to get out of the way of the oncoming ball of magic that's heading towards them across the water.
"Yep" quietly says the Viceroy of Dreese, who continues with "A fireball".
As he sees the telltale sign of a fireball hitting the damaged enemy frigate, and explode with liquid fire, that sets the already damaged vessel on fire.
The worst thing about a fireball, is that what it sets alight, can't be put out by water. All you do when you chuck water on the flames created by it, is spread the liquid fire around.
And the Viceroy, from where even he sits on the east facing beach towards the north end of the island. Can see the fire rapidly spreading across the enemy frigate, as the enemy crew try to douse the flames with buckets of sea water.
Others already see the futility of trying to put the fire out. And they jump overboard into the water.
Some jump clear, while others hit the flames that are floating on the water around part of the doomed vessel.
The liquid fire from a fireball floats upon water. It's why that particular spell is one of the more lethal spells to be cast in a naval battle.
A spell that's not just dangerous to opposition forces, but also your own if they're close by when it hits it's target.
It's a reason why that particular spell is used judiciously by most practitioners of magic during a battle at sea.
After taking a drink of water from the stoneware jug next to him. The Viceroy of Dreese looks up into the morning sky again, away to the south above the channel. When he hears the echoing booms of magetubes firing.
He sees the destructive balls of pure energy, some nearly twenty feet wide. Crisscrossing the sky away to the south. As one of the airships in his own fleet, engages in aerial battle with a flying warship in his older brother's fleet.
The local nobleman winces, as magetubes aren't exactly common here in Dreese, or for that matter, in many of the nations along the east coast of the continent.
He has only a finite number of them in his fleet of airships. Likewise for the airships in the Sultan's airfleet.
The Viceroy who is quite some distance from those two airships trying to blow each other out of the sky.
Has to squint and shade his eyes as he looks away to the south down the channel. And tries to identify which airship is which. As many of the vessels in both fleets. Especially the airships, look very similar. After all, they were all one fleet under the command of the Viceroy, until he launched a coup against his older brother the Sultan. A coup that ultimately failed, and turned into a war between the two brothers in the royal family that's ruled the Sultanate of Dreese for quite a number of generations.
The local spellcaster, who has been unable to touch his magic ever since he was taken captive.
Sees the two airships circling as they try to avoid the magetube shots fired at one another.
He stands up, and shades his eyes, to try and see which airship is which. Then the younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese slightly nods his head as he dentifies which flying warship belongs to which fleet.
"Come on" murmurs the Viceroy, who then adds "You can do it" as he urges on those who are flying and crewing the airship that's part of his fleet.
As it, as well as the enemy airship, shoot another barrage of magetube shots at each other.
Every other airship in both fleets in that part of the sky, have taken off and got quickly out of the way. As they don't want to get hit by a stray magetube shot. Which is just as likely to come from one of their own ships that's engaged in combat, just as it is to come from the enemy airship.
The local nobleman continues to watch the dueling airships, who fire shot after shot at one another.
So much so, that the part of the sky they're in, is as lethal of a place you'll likely ever to see, anywhere.
The younger brother of the supreme ruler of Dreese, who is just glad that the Sultan's flagship is nowhere to be seen. As his captor the lord told him, he'd try to keep the Sultan out of the fight for as long as possible.
Winces when he sees one of the two circling airships away to the south, finally get clipped by a magetube shot.
Blasting away a fair chunk of the stern of that particular flying vessel.
The Viceroy, with a hand raised to shade his eyes. Wonders whose airship that it is. Then he grins when he recognises that it's part of his older brother's airfleet.
The local spellcaster, who is from the mainland of Dreese, then lets out a whoop of delight when another magetube shot slams into that enemy airship. Blasting apart one of it's two masts. Sending bits of debris flying in all directions.
As that airship starts dropping out of the sky. The Viceroy sees the warship that's part of his own fleet that hit that enemy airship.
Break off the engagement, and move away instead of pursuing the damaged enemy warship, that's dropping down out of the sky.
The younger of the two nobleborn brothers who are at war with one another. Nods his head in approval at the actions of his airship, it's captain and crew.
For the simple reason they might come under attack from enemy spellcasters onboard the ships on the water, if they drop down to pursue the badly damaged enemy airship.
Instead, they turn their vessel to port on an angle, and shoot off a salvo of magetube shots on their port side, down at the enemy sailing ships who are to the rear of the battle on the water.
And though seven of the ten shots miss. Three hit, with one just clipping the bow of troop carrying ship.
While the two other magetube shots slam right down upon an enemy clipper, heading to the south end of the island that the Viceroy is on.
That particular vessel is completely destroyed, as the two magetube shots explode, blasting apart the small sailing ship. Sending debris and water flying in all directions in the explosions that are simultaneous.
"Another one gone" murmurs the Viceroy of Dreese to himself.
He's not referring to the enemy cutter that was just totally annihilated.
He's referring to one of his own sailing ships, that's just caught on fire after being targeted by an enemy spellcaster.
One of the practitioners of magic in his older brother's fleet. And not one who the Sultan of Dreese has under his direct control.
A tight grin appears on the face of the local nobleman when he sees the burning ship continue to plow through the water, towards some of the enemy vessels in the channel between the two islands.
A trio of the enemy vessels scatter as the burning ship comes straight at them.
The Viceroy nods and murmurs "May the gods of the sea guide you". As he watches one of his ships, the bow, and much of a midships engulfed in flames. Hit one of the enemy vessels trying to flee. Hitting it on the port quarter to stern.
Even from where he is on an empty beach up the coast. The local spellcaster hears the impact of the two ships colliding in the channel.
He's proud of the crew of that particular ship, as it's able to set the enemy vessel it just rammed, on fire.
The Viceroy recalls the young captain of that ship, which is starting to sink now. The younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese, will always remember the young captain and his crew no matter what.
For the local spellcaster, who knows he might not live beyond this battle, no matter what he's been told by his captors.
Will always remember that young captain and his crew. And the others who are fighting and dying for his cause, here in the two northern most islands of the chain, in the Sultanate of Dreese.
On what's another warm tropical summer's day, not all that far from the equator.
The Viceroy sits back down on the shade beneath the palm tree. And after taking another sip of water. And taking out a flatbread, wrapped around some cold, spiced meat from the food wrapped in the cloth, and starts to eat it.
The local nobleman continues to watch the battle that's taking place this morning, predominantly on the water and in the air. As well as across on the island on the otherside of the channel.
The Viceroy takes his time eating the flatbread, after all this could be the last food he ever eats.
And as he sees one of his sailing ships go up in instantaneous flames. While a nearby enemy vessel breaks apart at the waterline and starts to sink.
The younger brother of the Sultan of Dreese looks away to the south, and spots a few of the enemy vessels, have turned, and are making their way to this island. At the south end, though on this coast.
And though a number of the enemy's fleet have got in close to the other island, on the east side of the channel.
And launched boat after boat, full of the Sultan's soldiers, and landed them onto that island on the otherside of the channel.
They haven't done so yet on this side of the channel of water between the two islands.
The Viceroy of Dreese sees that's about to change fairly soon. And within a short amount of time, his older brother's forces will be on this island.
"Damn" murmurs the local spellcaster under his breath as he watches the enemy vessels heading to a point at the southern end of this coast.
The member of the royal family that's led the Sultanate of Dreese for a number of generations.
Knows that if the enemy fight their way northwards along the coast. They'll capture him sometime late in the day, or tomorrow.
Though his captors have told him, that they'll do the actual capturing. As they don't want anything untowards to happen to him.
The Viceroy can understand why. As they've devised a plan to kill the Sultan of Dreese. A plan that the younger brother of the supreme ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese, is vital towards. Infact, he's the most important thing about it.
A plan that the Viceroy, who now knows an awful lot of it. Thinks is so absolutely crazy to say the least, that it might just work.
After a while, as it nears midday, and the heat of the day has driven the Viceroy higher up the beach to where the palm trees are thicker, and there's more shade.
He sees that the battle on the water, and especially in the sky has slowed down.
Not so on the island across on the otherside of the channel. As he sees that more of the enemy are on that island now.
And that more of them are making their way on to this island on this side of the channel.
Infact, the local nobleman has seen a couple of the enemy ships put in, just a few miles to the south of where he is.
He's also seen an enemy airship crash just off the cove, directly to south of where he is. Less than half a mile away. Though he didn't see any survivors get off that downed airship.
Which he can see the two masts of, sticking out of the water, in the cove directly south of where he is.
The Viceroy of Dreese is just wondering when any of the enemy will show up here, when suddenly one of his captors appears beside him.
It's the elf in the white hooded cloak. Who crouches down beside the nobleman from the mainland of Dreese.
"How are you faring highness?" asks Helbe the elven thief.
"As well as i can be i suppose" is the reply from the Viceroy of Dreese.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, which is all the way on the otherside of the continent, off the coast of the Southlands, nods his hooded head to that.
Then the highly talented elven magic user says "We've started putting the Sultan's forces on the south end of this island".
The elven masterthief, who happens to be the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, continues with "The fighting will be heavy as they make their way north to this end of the island".
Helbe the elven thief, who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque, briefly pauses before he adds "You won't be captured until late tonight, or early in the morning".
"Then straight to my brother?" asks the Viceroy of Dreese, who rather hopes his captors plans are successful.
"Yes" says the elven princeling from Laerel, who then adds "Straight to your brother".
The local nobleman nods his head, then goes back to watching the battle on the water and in the sky.
And though it's no where near as hectic as it was this morning. The fighting on the water and in the air, is just as deadly and as lethal as it's been so far during the battle . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 44.

Summer. The Port Town Of Gilsom.

"He still out?" asks Brossic the lowland mercenary.
"He's still out" says Spranen the mercenary, who along with two of the other mercenaries, are carrying the unconscious sorcerer Grunna.
Brossic, who leads the group of five who have plans to create their own nation up in the Maldin Hills.
Grimaces as he looks over at Sharnd the merchant, then tells him "Would you shut up for a moment".
"Why the fuck should i?" says Sharnd the flatland merchant, who has complained ever since they fled Gilsom's shipyards.
"My damn ship has probably burnt to the ground by now" states a more than annoyed Sharnd, infact he's totally pissed off with what's happened this night.
"I'm not shutting up for fucking anything" adds the merchant who is paying for most of what they've been doing of late.
"If you don't, we might not get out of this mess alive" hisses Brossic who continues with "Because without doubt those two will still be after us". Referring to the large, heavily armoured knight and the even larger creature, they still believe is a troll. Who set fire to their airship in the shipyards on the north side of the township. Who previously attacked them, and damaged the same airship, early yesterday morning in the Maldin Hills.
The merchant Sharnd finally falls silent, and Spranen the merchant who is from here in Gilsom, says "What i want to know is how the hell did they get here?".
"An airship of course" says Brossic who is looking up and down the street their inn here in the township is on.
Sharnd looks around too, and speaks up as he quietly asks "Where's Halnard?".
"Gone to the other inn to get that wizard and magic user Grunna hired when we got here" is the quiet reply of Brossic, the crew leader who continues with "He's getting them, and the others in that inn, to where we're going".
Sharnd the lowland mercenary who hasn't really been paying attention to anything that's going on around them, as he's been so angry with the loss of his airship, asks "Where exactly are we going?".
Nodding at the small mountain they're right next to, Brossic the lowlander says "There" followed by "The port" he then adds "We're getting the hell out of here".
There's a constant stream of people on the street out infront of their inn. Mostly those heading down to the shipyards to see what's happening there this night. As the glow of the fire there can still be seen.
While others who were in the gathered crowd, who saw what happened on the north side of the shipyards. And are fleeing in the other direction. To their homes here in the township. Or in the tunnels within the small mountain itself. Where the actual town of Gilsom is located.
Looking at some of the other mercenaries they've hired earlier today. And others they had hired originally, who have already taken part in the attacks upon some of the villages up in the Maldin Hills.
Brossic the crew leader says to them "You lot head up the street, to the town itself, and through to the port" he continues with "Go to the south end of the harbour, and the docks there" the lowland mercenary then adds "You should find Halnard and the others, if not, you'll know exactly what ship to get on anyway" Brossic then says in a slightly dry tone "You'll hardly miss it".
As those he spoke to set off, the crew leader says to the others still with him "Back inside" followed by "We'll go out the back" he then adds "I don't like the looks of things out here".
And as they head back into the inn, Sharnd the merchant asks his fellow lowlander "Those pirates?".
Nodding his head, Brossic the flatland mercenary says "Yeah" followed by "Those pirates".
Looking back at the others, Lisell Maera the messenger quietly says "Some of them are heading to town" the attractive young woman who hails from the city-state of Brattonbury then adds "The lot we've be watching went back inside" she continues with "They're carrying that sorcerer of their's, he looks to be knocked out is all".
"They're going out the back no doubt" says Tamric Drubine the field commander, while behind him, sir Percavelle Lé Dic grunts in disappointment at hearing that the sorcerer who attacked him. And was hit by his own spell that bounced off the heavily armoured knight's magical shield. Is still alive, and not dead as he was hoping he would be.
As sir Percavelle Lé Dic loudly mutters "Damn evil magic fiend, wot". Tamric Drubine, or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, looks at Saanea the witch who is standing beside him.
"Do you want me to follow them?" quietly asks Saanea the witch.
"Can you sense an unconscious spellcaster?" asks field commander Drubine who knows that someone as skilled in magic as Helbe the elven thief is able to do something like that, while most other spellcasters are unable to.
"I was thinking about using my familiar" quietly says the pretty looking hillwoman.
The nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who is now a senior officer in the armies of Farque, shakes his head no, and says "No, have it still look for Dorc". The spellcaster from the Maldin Hills nods to that.
Then field commander Drubine points to the lane behind them, and says to Lisell Maera "We know where they're going" followed by "The harbour" he then adds "They're just taking the lanes to get there, instead of the main streets" Tam continues with "We will too".
Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by the others in the group, nods in understanding.
And is the first one to go back down the lane, she's quickly followed by Shur Kee the monk, and sir Percavelle Lé Dic. Then Tamric Drubine and Saanea the witch.
The messenger in the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque, turns into the first lane to the right. Which heads towards the small mountain that's nearby. Within which is the town of Gilsom itself. And on the otherside of which, is the port and harbour of Gilsom.
They enter the town of Gilsom fairly quickly. Infact they get there before the others that Brossic sent along the street outside their inn.
It's thanks to Spranen, who grew up here, and lived most of his life here in Gilsom. That they entered the town so quickly.
Spranen knowing the lanes and streets in the outside township so well. Got them here into the town so quickly.
Now they're within the small mountain that sits upon the coast of the Southlands, inside of which is the town of Gilsom itself.
As they head through the large tunnel that goes right through the base of the mountain. A tunnel, that at this time of night. Is still fairly busy with people, carts and wagons.
Brossic who is out infront, slightly nods his head when from behind him Spranen quietly tells him "Turn into the side tunnel coming up on the left".
Spranen who is helping to carry the unconscious sorcerer Grunna, continues with "You might miss it, so keep an eye out for it".
Brossic, who leads the five who want to carve out their own nation in the Maldin Hill range.
Almost walks by the entrance to the side tunnel, and only sees it at the last moment.
They all enter it, and Sharnd the flatland merchant asks "Why this way?" followed by "Isn't the main through tunnel the quickest way to the harbour?".
"No" is the reply from Spranen who grew up here inside the small mountain, in the warren of tunnels that make up the town of Gilsom.
"Not to where we're going" adds the local mercenary, who with two of the mercenaries they first hired, is carrying the unconscious sorcerer Grunna.
"Next right" says Spranen to Brossic who is out in the front.
The crew leader nods his head, and soon turns into the next tunnel on the right.
This one is relatively dark, and has just one lamp lit in it, about thirty yards away. Unlike the side tunnel they were just in. Which had a lamp on one of the walls, every dozen yards or so.
Slightly nodding, Spranen says "Halnard has been through here already". The mercenary from here in Gilsom as they walk by a lamp that's out. Knows that his fellow resident of the port town of Gilsom. Has put out all the lamps in this side tunnel apart from one, to indicate he's been this way.
"Left next" quietly says Spranen to Brossic, who after another thirty yards or so, takes the next tunnel on the left.
This one is near dark too, with just a single lamp alight in the distance along it.
"This is the longest one we go through" says the mercenary who is from here in Gilsom, Spranen goes onto explain "Hardly anyone uses these tunnels nowadays, unless they're up to no good".
"Like us" says Sharnd the mercenary "Definitely like us" quietly says Brossic the crew leader as he leads the way through the long, dark tunnel they're in, here within the small mountain, within which is the town of Gilsom itself.
They enter the town of Gilsom, making their way into the wide, not to mention tall and vaulted, as well as long tunnel.
That goes from one side of the small mountain, here on the inland side. All the way to the otherside, the harbour and port side of Gilsom.
Tamric Drubine who is more than annoyed that Dorc da Orc has gone off on his own, more than likely to kill any dwarves who are in town.
Would dearly like the ork warleader to be with them at the moment. As the large ork and his acute sense of smell, not to mention, his naturally enhanced hearing. Would be able to follow those they're after.
Lisell Maera the messenger who is leading the way, hops up onto a large standing barrel infront of a tavern, and looks through the long tunnel that cuts right through the small mountain that's on the coast.
"I can see some of that lot they've hired" says the attractive young woman who is originally from the city-state of Brattonbury.
"The others?" asks Tamric Drubine the field commander, who then adds "With that sorcerer they're carrying?".
"I can't see them" is the reply of the messenger, or runner as they're quite often referred to.
"Nor can i friend Tamric" says Shur Kee the monk, who is standing on a bench a bit further along infront of the tavern.
"They must of gone into the side tunnels" says the nobleborn teenager who hails from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
"I say young Tam, shall we follow them?" asks sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who then adds a "Wot".
"We'd just get lost in those side tunnels" says the young field commander, who gestures through the long tunnel, the other end of which can't be seen yet, and adds "We'll just go this way" followed by "Come on".
As the tavern keeper comes out and yells at Lis to get off his barrel. And is taken aback when the messenger tells him to fuck off, just before she jumps down off it.
They continue on their way through the long, wide, and rather high tunnel that was cut out well over a thousand years ago by dwarven masons and miners.
As they do, field commander Drubine as he walks quickly beside Saanea the witch, quietly asks the pretty looking hillwoman "Have you found him?".
The spellcaster from the Maldin Hills slightly grimaces, and quietly replies with "I have" Saanea the witch then adds "He's".
She's interrupted by Tam who says "Don't worry, you don't have to say". The son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin, then he dryly adds "I have a fair idea what he's up to".
The young field commander in the armies of Farque as they pick up the pace, and start to jog, asks the pretty looking hillwoman beside him "Can you communicate through your familiar?".
Though it's difficult to achieve, the witch from the Maldin Hill range says "I can".
"Good" murmurs the nobleborn teenager who is a senior officer in the armies of Farque as they hurry around a slow moving wagon, as they follow the others through the tunnel, which is essentially the main street of the town of Gilsom.
"There's something i want you to tell him" says Tamric Drubine, Saanea the witch nods, then the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin tells her what to say to Dorc da Orc.
He stands there with an arm in his right hand that he's just used to beat a dwarf to death behind a house that's right up against the small mountain.
He's just about to walk away, when he sees a cat has just walked behind the house.
"Dorc likes me some pussy" murmurs Dorc da Orc, who biffs away the arm he's holding, and quietly says to the cat that's watching him "Here pussy cat, let your friend Dorc eats you".
The large ork goes to step towards it, when he all of a sudden he stops in surprise as the cat changes to a dog.
"The fuck?" mutters the ork warleader, who sniffs then grunts as he realises the dog smells like the animal that is always around the newest member of the group, Saanea the witch.
"Fuck, probs gonna a tell on Dorc, and what me been up to" mutters the ork weaponsmith in his native language, as he looks from the dog, to the dead dwarf on the ground behind the house.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world is just about to tell the dog to fuck off, when it suddenly speaks to him.
Dorc da Orc stands there, blinking in surprise, listening to what the dog has to say, a dog that sounds a lot like the witch Saanea.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks finds it a little difficult to understand what the dog is saying. But after a few moments he comprehends what it's saying to him.
The large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque is about to ignore what it's saying, and walk away to find some more dwarves to kill this night. When he suddenly winces as it mentions someone.
"Fucken cunty hell" mutters Dorc da Orc who then grunts, and walks quickly away, following after the dog, that heads to the nearest entrance in the side of the small mountain.
The ork general goes in search for the rest of the group, only partly satisfied at killing a number of dwarves this night, and not more.
"The others?" asks Halnard the mercenary as he waves Brossic and the others across the gangplank.
"Still coming along the waterfront" is the reply from Brossic the mercenary, as behind him, the unconscious Grunna is brought onboard the coastal raider.
"They took the main tunnel through" adds the mercenary who leads the five of them who have plans to set up their own nation in the Maldin Hills.
Brossic then asks Halnard "They've agreed then?". "They have" says the mercenary who is from here in Gilsom, Halnard then adds "For a price though".
Brossic slightly grimaces, then mutters "I'd figured as much".
Then he and Halnard turn, as Spranen says "Here's the rest coming along the dock side".
Spotting the rest of the mercenaries they hired during the day, hurrying south along the harbourside to where the rather disreputable looking ship is tied up.
Brossic says to Halnard "Have the captain and his crew set off" followed by "We're leaving".
He then looks over at the two spellcasters they hired earlier in the day, who are further along the port rail, and says to the mercenary from here in Gilsom "And have that wizard and magic user protect us" he then adds "They might as well be of use since we're paying them so much".
After coming out of the tunnel, and making their way down to the docks in the crescent shaped harbour, they quickly head south to that end of the harbour of Gilsom.
"There, that ship that's setting off" says Lisell Maera the messenger as they hurry southwards along the harbour front.
"Fuck they're getting away" mutters Tamric Drubine the field commander in the elven language, as they hurry along the water front, which at this time of night, still has ships coming into, and leaving the docks.
The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin asks the pretty looking hillwoman beside him "Can you hit it with a blast spell" as the sailing ship moves away from docks, and goes out across the south side of the harbour.
"I can" says Saanea the witch, who after a couple of moments when she senses, adds "Damn" followed by "There's other spellcasters onboard, they've got wards up that i can't get through".
"Damn" mutters field commander Drubine as they all run to the very last dock at the south end of the harbour, where the ship was tied up.
There on the docks, they watch the coastal raider make it's way out of the south side of the crescent shaped harbour of Gilsom, and turn south on this warm summer's evening on the coast of the Southlands . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 43.

Summer. Gilsom. The Southlands.

"I don't know" says Harfstak in response to his wife Taikne asking him "What is it dear?".
After a moment, Harfstak adds "Looks like it might be a fire over in the shipyards" he briefly pauses then says "Aye, I'm pretty sure that's it".
"Hope it don't spread" says Taikne from inside of their house, she continues with "It would be a disaster if it does".
Harfstak from where he stands just outside of his house, nods in agreement. Then he looks over at his neighbour Philip's house, and finds the human up on the roof of his house, looking away to the north across the township.
"Hey Harfstak" says Philip who works inside the small mountain, where the town of Gilsom itself is located.
"Looks like an airship on the farside of the yards is on fire" adds Philip who continues on with "Fair bit of commotion going on up there" followed by "And on that side of the township".
"Better not spread into the docks" says Harfstak in the common language, who then adds in the same language "There'll be hell to pay if there is".
"That's for sure" says Philip, who works for one of the shipping agents in the town of Gilsom itself.
Harfstak watches the fire lit night sky away to the north for a little bit longer. Before he wishes Philip a goodnight, and makes his way back into his house after his wife Taikne says in their own language "Come back inside dear, there's nothing we can do about it".
They moved here to Gilsom a little over fifteen years ago. When the township on the inland side of the small mountain on the coast was starting to develop then expand.
Having lived all their lives further north in The Cascades. They along with others of their kind, found it a little ironic they moved to Gilsom. Which their ancestors had built well over a millennia ago, then abandoned centuries later.
And though over the years, their kind has always lived in the large port town. It's only within the last twenty years that more and more of them have returned to Gilsom. As trade was opened up across the Great Western Ocean to the nation of Nors.
Now there's well over a hundred of their kind in the large port town. True that's not all that much considering their's nearly fifteen thousand people living and working in all parts of Gilsom.
But in the last two centuries prior, there was less than fifty of them living here in Gilsom. So more than doubling their population in less than twenty years, is quite an achievement.
For though Gilsom, and the small mountain it's in, and now outside of, is part of the coastal hill range known as The Cascades.
Their kind, has always seen the lone mountain as separate to the rest of the range. And not exactly the ideal place for them to live.
Harfstak like many others of his kind over the centuries. Has always wondered why their ancestors built into the small mountain.
True their was gold once in it. But not that much compared to elsewhere in The Cascades.
The only thing truly of value it has, is the crescent shaped natural harbour on the coastal side of the small mountain.
And they being hill dwarves, they weren't, and still aren't exactly known for their skills in sailing. Especially not on the vast expanse of the Great Western Ocean.
Harfstak shakes his head at why his ancestors built here. He figures whoever it was, wasn't from his clan. It must of been some other clan, that lived on the coastal side of the hill range. As his is from the inland side, further to the north in the hill country that runs up the coast for nearly fifty miles.
"Bad is it?" asks Taikne the dwarf "I can't tell" says Harfstak the dwarf, who works in the airdocks as a load supervisor for the largest hauling company in Gilsom.
"It's up on the north side of the shipyards" continues Harfstak, who like his wife is over a hundred years old. Still relatively young for a hill dwarf, who could live to be two hundred and fifty years old.
"Seems to be a bit of commotion on the north side of the township too" adds the hill dwarf, who lives here on the southside of the township of Gilsom.
And though he and his wife Taikne would like to live inside of the small mountain, in the town of Gilsom proper.
They know that's probably not going to happen anytime soon. As only people who have been in Gilsom for generations live in the long, wide tunnel, and the warren of other tunnels within the small mountain.
Including the dwarves who have lived here in Gilsom for decades upon decades. Not the new arrivals who have only been here in the last twenty years.
"The town guards are out" says Harfstak the load supervisor who continues with "I saw some of them, so they must be getting it under control".
Taikne nods her head, and the female dwarf, who is barely four foot tall. Even short for a dwarf, if she was shorter you'd think she was a hobbit.
Says to her husband, who stands four and half foot tall, and has a long, thick, bushy red beard "All we can do is pray to the gods it doesn't spread".
"Aye, that's for sure" says Harfstak, for if the fire in the shipyards spreads down to the airdocks, then his livelihood will be threatened.
The dwarf who works in the airdocks of Gilsom makes his way over to the table, and takes the last roll from the platter there. As they had just finished their dinner when they heard all the shouting and yelling from outside.
As some in the neighbourhood spotted the fire on the north side of the shipyards, which is on the farside of the township from here in the south of it, which been built over the last twenty years or so.
As he chews on the roll of dark bread, and takes the platter to the counter. And wonders if Philip with his contacts amongst his shipping agent's office. Was able to find any of the dark ale from up the coast that dwarves are known to brew.
If not, then Harfstak will have to settle for the inferior dark beer brewed here in Gilsom.
When his wife Taikne says to him "You hear that?".
"Hear what?" asks the hill dwarf who works as a load supervisor in the airdocks of Gilsom.
"Around back" says the short female dwarf who moved here to the port town on the coast just over fifteen years ago.
Harfstak as he listens carefully with his naturally enhanced hearing, chews the bread roll he's got, then nods his head and says "Probably Philip".
As their closest neighbour, along with a couple of others living nearby are really the only ones to come to the backdoor of the house where the relatively young dwarven couple live.
"Come to tell us what he could see from up on his roof" adds Harfstak, who actually hopes Philip has come over to tell him if he's been able to locate any of that dwarven dark ale from up the coast.
Nodding to the backdoor, Harfstak says to his wife "Go on, might as well let him in".
Then as Taikne makes her way to the backdoor of the house, Harfstak switches to the common language and calls out "Philip is that you mate?".
The hill dwarf who works as load supervisor in the airdocks of Gilsom nods his head, as he hears a positive sounding grunt from outside, which Philip is want to do.
Then Taikne reaches for the door handle, takes hold of it, turns it and goes to open the backdoor.
The door explodes in a shower of wood and splinters. And along with Taikne they come flying back into the kitchen.
Harfstak with half the eaten bread roll in his mouth, stands there dumbfounded and completely at a loss as he looks at his wife Taikne lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. Covered in the debris of what was their backdoor.
The hill dwarf who is originally from further north in The Cascades. Then looks up as he hears something.
Harfstak sees a large shape duck down, and come in through where the backdoor just was.
And though the load supervisor who  works in the airdocks here on the inland side of the small mountain that's on the coast of the Southlands.
At first thinks it's a troll that's just entered his and his wife's home, as there's a handful of them here in Gilsom.
He instinctively knows that it's not a dwarf. And that it's something else entirely different.
Deep down, in the very depths of his core of being a dwarf. Harfstak knows exactly what it is that's just entered his house, and entered his life.
The hill dwarf after glancing down at his motionless wife on the kitchen floor.
Goes to scream in anger, and goes to run at the intruder that's just come into his house.
When he's suddenly picked up off the floor when something slams into his chest. He goes flying backwards, smashing into the kitchen table behind him.
Harfstak hits the floor in the main room of his house. And goes to groan in pain. But all he does is black out, to never wake again.
Dorc da Orc chuckles and murmurs "Get some" as he goes into the main room of the house.
Where he retrieves the throwing axe he threw with an underhand flick that took the dwarf in the chest.
The large ork after retrieving the axe, stomps on the head of the already dead dwarf.
"Nasty fucken red headed freak" growls the ork warleader, who naturally can't abide the existence of any dwarf.  Especially a red headed one, with a thick red haired beard, like the one he just killed.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who has to duck his head down low to even move about in this house.
Makes his way back through the kitchen, where he stomps on the head of the female dwarf lying in the middle of the floor. Who ended up there when the ork weaponsmith kicked in the backdoor of the house.
Dorkindle chuckles again as more dwarven brains and bits of skull get stuck on the bottom of his rather large, and very black, right boot.
Then the large ork, who is a general in the armies of Farque. Makes his way to the backdoor. Well, where the backdoor was stood until he kicked it in.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then glances outside. And after wiping the grin off his face, which takes a few moments to do.
Dorc da Orc steps outside, and makes his way to the right down the lane, behind the row of houses here in this part of the township that's on the inland side of the small mountain, within which is the town of Gilsom proper.
The warleader of the ork race walks away from the scene of the murder.
Though the ork general doesn't see it like that. As he like all orks sees that they're doing the wider world a service by killing any dwarf they come across.
As they orks, who have a natural hate for the dwarf race. Thanks to their war god Krom hating the gods of the dwarven race, the gods Thaxel and Dovarn.
A hate he installed into all of them. A hate that's even greater than their hate of the heat from the sun, and the wetness of water.
The one thing that all ork kind, who'll happily kill one another, especially if they're not from their own tribe.
All agree on. The killing of every single dwarf they have the opportunity to run across.
And though true, most orks will never actually see a dwarf in their lifetime.
As you won't find any dwarves in the southern polar region of the world. All any other people for that matter. As orks are the only people who live in the inhospitable environment at the bottom of the world.
And not many orks ever leave their homeland called the Ork Range.
But for someone like Dorc da Orc, who was sent into exile form his homeland when he was still a teenager.
And has spent more than half of his life living outside of the southern polar region of the world, predominantly here in the Southlands.
He sees it as his duty, and for the honour of his clan. To try and kill every single dwarf he comes across in his lifetime.
And the ork warleader intends to do a hell lot more dwarf killing this night. As he has caught the scent of quite a few of them here in Gilsom. Especially here in the township that lies on the inland side of the small mountain that sits right on the coast of the Southlands, about halfway along the length of the hill range called The Cascades.
Dorkindle crosses a street here on the southside of the township. And growls at a pair of goblins walking in his direction.
They turn, and hurry back the way they came from when the large ork growls at them. Tripping over one another as they do so.
"Fucken gob-a-lins" mutters the ork weaponsmith who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world enters another lane here on the southside of the township, a lane that heads straight to the small mountain itself.
Dorc da Orc who is repeatedly sniffing, slows down, and grunts in satisfaction as he walks behind the houses here in this part of the township.
Then looking ahead at one of the houses on the right, the warleader of the ork race briefly grins from ear to ear, and murmurs "Get some". As he can smell another dwarven couple, and their child up ahead in one of the houses on the right.
"That's their inn" says Lisell Maera the messenger, who continues with "They've run inside".
"To retrieve their stuff no doubt" says Tamric Drubine the field commander, who then looks at Shur Kee the monk and Saanea the witch as the four of them stand at the corner of a building, here on this side of the township, not all that far from the small mountain, within which is the town of Gilsom itself.
As people hurry by on the street, the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin looks back behind them when he hears something, and he spots sir Percavelle Lé Dic hurrying up the lane, that they've come up from the nearby airdocks and shipyards.
When the large, heavily armoured knight from the kingdom of Druvic joins them at the corner of the building, the young field commander asks him "Where's Dorc?".
"The fat smelly beast is following me" replies sir Percavelle Lé Dic, the member of the order of Knights of Saint Mar-che who couldn't care less where the large ork is, then adds "Wot".
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group looks down the lane and doesn't see the large ork anywhere.
"You sure he's following behind you?" asks field commander Drubine.
The former paladin, who admittedly hasn't looked back to see if his bitter rival was following him ever since they left the shipyards, looks down the lane, and says "Hmmmmm I'm sure the filthy creature was just behind me, wot".
"Fuck" mutters Tam Drubine in the elven language who looks down the lane for a few more moments, and still sees no sign of Dorc da Orc anywhere.
The nobleborn teenager who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Has a fair idea what the ork general is up to this night, instead of being here with the rest of the group.
"He's fine" sourly says Tam in response to Saanea the witch asking him "Do you think he's in trouble".
The young field commander in the armies of Farque then tells the pretty looking hillwoman "Have your familiar look for Dorc".
Just then, Lisell Maera the messenger quietly says "Here they are again" followed by "Coming out of the inn" . . . . . .