More fucking Orcs, brilliant. Just what they needed after trekking all day through the mountains. The emissary from Waterdeep had sure picked a good place to get lost in, locating him was going to be like finding a needle in a Haystack. If he was even still alive that was, chances were he was already settling in nicely with Kelemvor up on the Fugue Plane. They had already found what was left of his guard earlier on the trail out of Old Owl Well, their skull's smashed open by countless clubs and fists and the horses taken for meat.
Few civil folk lived up in the Sword Mountains; it was a barren and dangerous landscape, mainly inhabited by warring Orc factions, tribes of carnivorous Ice Giants, even dragons it was rumoured, if one went high enough. It was entirely absurd that the ambassador from Waterdeep had been sent to Neverwinter along this route, rather than the much shorter, and safer, journey by sea.
Still, orders were orders, and Captain Brelaina did not seem like the type of woman who liked be kept waiting by her subordinates.
The Orcs were closing in fast, battle ready and mortal fear lost in the face of 'non Orcs' in their territory. Contrary to popular belief, the Orcs were generally not much less intelligent than your average peasant farmer. The most intelligent ones would often become tribe leaders, and were more than capable of strategizing cunning battle plans, and rapidly expanding their tribe's territories. The Orcs knew their strength lay in sheer numbers, and anyone unlucky enough to have to travel these parts would often find themselves overcome by the number camped out along the rocky paths. Sending the emissary via this route had been a stunningly bad idea indeed.
Fire crackled between her fingers, glowing brightly as it weaved its way up her thin arms; hot but never burning. Seeing the Orcs begin their unknowing death march towards them, had a sickening thrill light her belly. Sarina Farlong didn't savour battle, didn't take any form of joy from killing enemies, but there was no denying it excited her. Anyone who thought battle lust wasn't addictive had obviously never been in a fight to the death before. It was exhausting, messy, sometimes even guilt-ridden, but damn if it wasn't exhilarating. And besides, she never attacked unless provoked… well sometimes she did… but only when talking failed and they really deserved it.
It was worlds away from the quiet village life she had always known, but whether that was a good thing or not, she hadn't quite decided yet. The exhilarating feeling did make one fact abundantly clear, West Harbour could never be home again.
She gave a loud groan before re-checking the rough map Callum had drawn them earlier in the day. How Callum had organised the Greycloaks so effectively, using only the meagre supplies and men Neverwinter had sent was testament to the Dwarf's considerable talent as a leader. The Greycloaks were locked in a seemingly endless clash with the Orc tribes over Old Owl Well, the only source of water for the entire region. They had been forced to take in many green recruits from nearby villages and homesteads to bolster troop numbers. Yet the Greycloaks had retained a fearsome reputation in these parts. And that reputation was all thanks to the villager's steadfast refusal to surrender, and Callum's brilliant leadership in the face of over-whelming odds.
She waved the map lamely at her equally fed-up looking companions. With her was Khelgar, a Dwarf from the clan Ironfist, who loved drinking, banter and brawling in equal measure (Sarina's Bosom buddy no. 1).Next to him was Neeshka, who much like the stereotype, was a Tiefling thief. Although unlike the stereotype, she was a good egg at heart with a wicked sense of humour (bosom buddy no. 2).
Also travelling with them was the beautiful Elven Druidess, Elanee from the Mere (preachy tree-hugger, yet quite likeable for it), and finally the latest addition to the group, Bard Grobnar Gnomehands (nuttier than Squirrel shit, but unwittingly hilarious). She hadn't expected to pick up a group to travel around with, and was even more flabbergasted when they continued to follow her through the various tasks of part of the city guards, and ultimately on a more dangerous mission into the mountains. Apparently Neverwinter was filled with helpful vagabonds, looking for adventure outside of the Mere of Dean Men. Or maybe they didn't have anything better to do with their time, who knew? It wasn't her place to question their motives for accompanying her and she was eternally grateful for the aid. Even if the company was a little… strange.
"Oh for Tyr's sake! Can anyone else make any sense of this stupid map? Think Callum's stone senses aren't what they used to be."
Khelgar snatched the map from her and frowned at it, "Y'know the whole 'Stone Sense' thing is complete nonsense we tell to non-dwarves for a laugh right? Literally complete Hog Wash. It's like saying all you elves do nothing but prance around woods and hug trees."
She nodded sagely, "Admittedly there is some prancing, anyway, half-elf remember? My foster-father must have skipped the lesson on tree-hugging though. So, map?"
"Heh, he also miss out the lesson on map-reading? The Bonegnasher lair should be just over that ridge. As much as I hate to admit it, fighting these Bonegnashers may be hard going, they've got a reputation even amongst the Orcs for being nasty bastards. It may be best to avoid making ourselves too obvious out here, unless we fancy fighting our way through the entire tribe." Khelgar bit out painfully, as if the words themselves were foul tasting.
Neeshka gasped dramatically, "I'm sorry but did Moss breath really just advise caution? What no charging in, massive Axe swinging away? Are you feeling OK Khelgar?"
"Shut your mouth, Goat girl."
"Goat girl. Like I haven't heard that one about a million times before. I bet even the Orcs could come up with a better insult than 'Goat Girl'."
Khelgar pinched his impressively bushy brow, "If you don't shut up Tiefling, I'm going to turn one of your horns into my new drinking mug. The Orcs can use the other one as a toothpick."
"HA! Like you'd be able the reach…"
Sarina had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from laughing. "Guys, not to interrupt but what did Khelgar just say about not making ourselves too obvious? I just want to try to sweet talk Yaisog into giving us the emissary's location, and then get the hell outta here before anything too many Orcs know we're here. With any luck we'll be back with the Greycloaks tonight then back to civilisation tomorrow morning. We all good with that?"
"Aye, you're right"
"Yes ma'am".
She gestured to the permanently confused-looking Gnome to her left, "Grobnar, you've been in these mountains longer than we have, do you agree with the plan so far?"
Grobnar shook his head and looked uncertainly at his new audience, "Oh! I was wasn't paying any attention sorry! I was just trying to think of a word that rhymes with Yaisog for my song. But alas, I think there is none."
The poor Gnome looked genuinely distressed by his conundrum, it was hard not to feel for him with that little, hopeful face of his,
"… that's great Grobnar, keep plugging away at it OK?"
Preachy tree hugger Elanee cleared her throat pointedly, and floated gracefully over to plant herself square in front of Sarina's eye line. She appeared to glide over the stony path with almost practiced ease, though her unfaltering, horrified expression gave away her true discomfort at the rocky terrain. Not that Sarina could blame her, only the truly hardy and the mad would feel at home in such a bleak, grey place. Apart from Orcs, and Dwarves of course, this was their natural home in the order of things. So anyone but the hardy, the mad, or any Orc or Dwarf, would be stupid enough to live here in the mountains. Yeah, that about covered it.
"We may wish to tread lightly from this point on, I have the feeling we are being watched. Though whether it is Orcs or this 'Katalmach' Callum mentioned earlier, I do not know."
"I'd rather not come across either if I'm honest, I prefer the company of the completely sane. Let's go."
As they walked silently through the mountain pass, Sarina felt the cold prickle of being watched. Although they had been quite adept at taking down the Orcs that had attacked Old Owl well, she knew that was only a small recon group compared with the numerous tribes that inhabited this part of the mountains. With any luck Yaisog's orcs wouldn't attack on sight and she could strike some kind of deal for information on the emissary's whereabouts.
As for the other mysterious group that kept harassing the orcs, well they could damn well stay mysterious. Anyone who chose to live here and fight Orcs for a living, without any Greycloak help, was probably insane. And not nice Grobnar insane either.