In My Time of Troubles

by Crossposted

Crossposting of the TheIrishDreamer’s FanFiction on SpaceBattles all credit goes to the original author.

9. Entry 9

When: 1353DR sometime in Summer

Where: Sparta Party Central

Well not for me and the senior 'officers' of the clans unfortunately but for the rest of the clan members, ours and theirs, this is essentially one big summer party. Or perhaps Rag Week in college from my memories of another time and place; more general violence and slightly less alcohol consumption, though the stupidity is still there in droves along with the constant drunken singing. I can even here outside the tower now stuck on permanent repeat it seems because orcs know feck all decent drinking songs. Honestly though I wouldn't mind being down there with singing drunkenly too...but sadly I'm in 'middle management' or the 'responsible adult' (good I hated and hate being the responsible adult on nights out) for my merry little minions. Lucky, ungrateful, drunken little bastards the lot of them I say!

Anyway my joys have been in dealing...being bullied by and bullying...my opposites in the other clans, and having Oggy skip off to our village, that Zah is insisting we call Zahgorim's Conquest because he's a giant child, along with Rose, Mara, Kethri, my little Kargash...oh and Hippy-Dippy the Tree-hugger (much to Zah's whining) to do the field magic thing. So I'm currently left with Missy in the Tower for the next few weeks, along with the gnome...sorry...NIMMIL THE DREAD GNOME WIZARD OF PLOWFUDDLE as she called herself to my hungover apprentices. Ms Dread Gnome evidently is a skilled illusionist which was very impressive in getting my minions to 'respect her authoritha' in class. I have also in response doubled up on my wards for the Tower, and have begun sewing new and improved anti-charm and anti-illusion protections into my clothing in addition to my ward tattoos. Prevention is better than the cure with illusions and charms in my mind, and better to have far too many protections than too few in my book. Because charm is a dangerous spell for someone with future knowledge and dangerously powerful divine Boss that would frown up information leaks, and I like being alive thank you very much.

Especially since I've the local version of Darth Sidious running around my clan's stronghold plotting his rise to being Head Shaman of a yet-to-be-formed-mini-Horde. Unfortunately their ain't much I can do about that as his threats are pretty much solidly backed up him being pretty powerful, and the fact the alternative choices really aren't much better. I'm loathe to admit it I'm not on that list of potential leadership candidates because I'm not really in the mold of 'traditional orc shaman' nor do I have a powerful clan back me or possess great personal badass powers right now to keep everyone in line. Darth Phargk sadly is the real deal with a powerful clan behind him, albeit not the strongest of all of us, AND is truly terrifying when it comes to clerical abilities. He is an old orc, and did not get to become an old orc in a clan that regularly hunts Drow, Druegar and all the other horrors of the Underdark on a regular basis...with the casualty rates that implies. Especially since was evidently 'cursed' with the ability to be magnificent healer...which would be problematic to be a veritable genius at when you're a cleric of the One Eyed Jackass.

My primary issue is that Phargk is smart. Worryingly so for one of the One Eye's lot whose Intelligence slot is normally their dump stat beyond raw cunning really. And he's creative too in his own horrifyingly disturbed way evidently. Honestly this old orc, when he was young orc really, decided he would 'master' his 'curse of healing' and holy fuck did he do that I'll say. Now of course I do accept his little show yesterday was for my...benefit...I expect as much as 'punishing' that poor wretched Drow. I should not feel sorry for a Drow and it really wars with my utter paranoiatowards the creatures...but dear God's he literally cut off her tongue and ears...then gouged out her eyes in front of me. Like Gods above it was fucked up. Really, really fucked up. Like Jesus and Ilneval and any rational deity fucked up. Especially with the whole 'explaining' the 'punishment' of insulting orcs by words of her defiance...by cutting of the tongue that spoke the insult. Ears that heard it and eyes that saw the insult...

...and then before the poor wretched creature could die from all the pain and gurgling screams the evil bastard healed her back to perfect health. And then repeated it again because...'she wasn't sorry enough' evidently. I've made a mental note to be taken alive by the old bastard if we come into conflict. And I'm mildly with myself for not puking till I got back to my Tower and the full horror of the event got through the mental barriers I'd put up over the years. Because again; fucked up bullshit from evil Phargk the Bloody Handed Psycho who has weaponized healing. So on evidence provided I the Great and Intimated Karguk support the scary Gruumsh worshipping evil healer in his future role as head shaman; partly for the offer of being taken on as apprentice of sorts, but primarily for the logical reasoning of him being the most dangerous of the lot. Because that's the other issue there-

As mentioned I don't have strength to hold the other clans in line, and neither does Zah or Old Breyjuk for that matter. And right now kinda need that because we're badly factionalised as shamans go, and the majority of the backward fucks aren't siding with me and my reforms. Mostly in the shape of stupid smug idiot Hreghk of the Blackhand tribe, but closely followed by the rather retarded 'shaman' of the Bearclaws. Dear Ilneval that whole just come off as hissing spitting Tazmanian Devils from Loony Tones. Pronunciation motherfuckers, learn it! 'Argghly Barrghgly Hsssshhhh!!' are not sentences and words. They are the ravings of drunken lunatics, especially with their constant drooling. Sorry. But their 'Shaman' is the most worthless sonofabitch ever and likely their because their Ten Foot Tall monster of a Chief put him there. Evidently they are a clan of the 'Strong Chief, Weak Shaman' variety because of that. He's a cleric of the One Eye, and while he's not exactly the brightest card in the deck the fact is his Chief is going to be Warchief or Overchief of the various clan if we pull this off. None of us can take that dude in one on one combat and his clan are the most numerous and willing to charge off to battle. So have to 'respect' the gobshites opinion at least in public. Fecking Joy.

Interestingly we've got the full pack of the pantheon in attendance at our little get together, even priests of Shargaas and Yurtrus Whitehands who've never really worshiped in Sparta, or Stormfang and Thunderbaldes before that. Largely due I expect to Ilneval and Baghtu not liking either God because ones the orc of assassins, thieves and other ninja crap, and the other the orcish version of Nurgle. In a way the fact one of the few Shargassi priests come from the Cryptbreaker tribe, though evidently the Night-tombs under Phargk have one as well back at their stronghold. Makes sense in way since caves and darkness are the Night Lord's domain so Underdark and orc murder ninjas kinda together. Icepeak Clan are controlled by one of The Rotting One's priest's and he's creepy as you'd expect from such a divine servant. Evidently rose to power by controlling the food supply by means of magical preservation...and did I mention the 'make-your-penis-rot-off spell'? Yeah that gives them a wide berth with their clan warriors and chief as you might expect. Creepy fuckers, I can see why the Boss dislikes them!

So for the moment I'm aligning myself behind that old fuck Phargk and try to learn what I can from the old terrifying mad shaman while he's here or when on the campaign. Really I can't afford a clash now with them, and focusing them all on our mutual foes will give my clan to build itself up. We just need a few years to get strong enough to make our valley a fortress and start fielding decent army numbers with better weapons and armour. Though in that regard we're already miles ahead of our peers, except maybe the Moondblades and Night-tomb, as our gear is pretty heavily focused on holy and magic resistant protections.

Combine that with our displine and greater number of casters and we hit far above what many of the other clans realise...except the Moonblades, Red Axes and Evil Old Bastard who seem to have guessed at that strength. I dislike that, I'd rather conceal our strengths from potential foes and to be underestimated rather give them time to prepare a counter for it. I suspect why the Evil Old Bastard is...recruiting...me in many ways as an organiser of this possible expedition against the Uthgarders. Word of our recent successes have spread evidently, and it's the 'natural' position of the various priesthoods in the pantheon owing to the position of the Gods themselves; those of the One Eye in charge, us of Ilneval doing all the actual work of raising the horde and then Baghtu's being stupid fucking muscle for Gruumsh's shamans. Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy...hey!

I know my place for now. So just need to keep the head down, safeguard our interests and organise. Stick to my strengths and try minimising my weaknesses. Learning will take time, but surviving really means said getting said learning. And we need a united force I'll remind myself each day it seems.

So with authority overall impaired I've opted for trying for more indirect methods under the guise of helping make our situation here easier. Not that I'm overly proud of being honest. Mostly because getting much of the things going on in the 'visitors' town organised involves dreadfully things like establishing an actually organised slave trading area and a recording system. I know it was already happening, and I know we've bought several ourselves, but I've made it organised and created a numerical plus lettering recording system to record transactions and who owns what.

Just takes a recording by letter trained Warswords or Battlestaves, adding a simple (painless) magically applied 'tattoo' on the slave and...voila...tracking of slaves numbers and owners along with a list of age, skill and other bio stats. Getting details of all the trades means they'll come to us, ie me and Zah, to settle disputes over who owns what. And there have been disputes and solving them builds up a useful reputation amongst the warriors of the various clans. It worked for the IRA Dail Courts against the British in another world; if you can't control the legal system then bypass it and establish a more trusted one of your own. And it's something my opposites could care less about...after all who cares about minor disputes between clan warriors unless they get serious?

If can't be in charge then I'll insert myself into the horde through other means that orc shamans normally wouldn't bother with because of the work. That and it might let me push my reforms unto the horde indirectly – make yourself indispensible to the organisation and its hard to get rid of you after all. Only time will tell though as we're really only at the beginning of these negotiations. Most of the season left to go at it looks like.

--

[Karguk 11]

Shaman's Tower, Sparta

My room felt, and sounded, empty with Oggy and my little Kargash gone off to the new village with Rose, Mara and Kehtri in tow. None of the usual snoring from Oggy, shuffling of feet from the sisters or Rose, even the occasional loud cries of my little Karggy for attention; that or the crackle of the fire, which meant the only heat at the moment was under the covers of my bed and the body heat of Missy. Getting up and keeping the fire going would have been a good idea I knew, but getting was hard...and I was tired...and it was sunny out there. And my bed was warm and comfortable, and getting up would wake up Missy and we both needed our sleep for spell memorization. I was good at making excuses for my procrastination it seemed as I lay in my comfortable bed in the large room of my tower as the fading light of day drifted into the room I noticed along with faint sounds of the 'town' and stronghold outside. It was probably colder inside the tower than outside in the summer weather I mused with sigh looking up at light dance on the stone roof above me. I much preferred when we got up earlier in the day and didn't have these long nights of stuff to do.

'I probably should get up shouldn't I? Though...maybe a few minutes longer won't hurt. Market probably isn't even open yet?...yeah five minutes more then up and at'em' ran through my mind as the bundle beside me yawned, whose arm had been resting over me and had now started to move indicating Missy was also stirring from her sleep. She seemed to do that I noticed even when I tried not to wake her, initially it had been fear of me and Oggy but now it seemed more ingrained habit on her part after nearly three years.

"Awake as well are you? Sleep well I hope?"

Movement against me as she stretched slightly beneath the furs was my answer in the affirmative even before she open her mouth in a tone almost like she was humming for a moment "Yes Master, it was a nice sleep, and is it time to start another da...nights work Sir? You said you wished to go to the markets yesterday before meeting with the other shamans I believe"

I groaned softly, because yes I had said that and did want to get down to the 'town' for a while...but well "Yes...in a minute or two...or three...it's still bright outside so they probably aren't even started yet..." Oggy wasn't here to get unto to me about it and I wasn't in the field so I could rest in my comfy bed as long as I liked thank you very much.

Missy meanwhile had propped herself on her elbow so as to make eye contact, and was looking at me curiously, or perhaps with bemusement "Of course Master, whatever you wish...sleeping in while Mistress is away Master? She did warn of this Master I have to remind you on her orders" she queried in a friendly tone. With Oggy and the others away Missy was alot more relaxed in general. Not surprising as Oggy was the 'bad cop' of the two of us by and large. Or nearly always really; my beautiful orcish Oggy was quite the iron rod dictator in the household towards the slaves...and me occasionally.

"Of course Oggy did, and we shan't tell her of my occasional lay in now shall we?" I replied messing up her hair with my hand a moment and earning a slightly huffy, though mostly amused "Of course not Master" in response from my slave.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm being lazy its ju..." I froze a tingling running up my spine. Something was wrong...

Shoving a startled Missy aside I rolled over and grabbed for my paladin's blade as I scrambled to stand up and pull the blade from its sheath. Something was affecting the strongholds wards, more worryingly that something was affecting the wards of my Tower as best I could tell. Still the room was silent beyond Missy's startled grunt, and the scrap of metal as my blade came free as I held the sheath in the other hand as possible (crappy) shield, or (equally crappy) secondary weapon. Despite the lack of signs of danger as I scanned the familiar gloom of my room, and my own state of undress I roared out "Guards! Guards! Sound the alarm!" as the warning feelings of my wards began to practically scream 'DANGER! DANGER!'

Missy at least seemed to understand, rising with a startled squeak...but grabbing for her spell components bag as she stood looking around for whatever danger I was scanning for. I ignored the twinge as the door ward was broken by two of acolytes bursting violently through it, followed by a third, looking around in confusion "Boss, Boss what's wrong?"

"SOMETHINGS AFFECTING THE WARDS! YERK ALARM NOW! DOUBLE THE GUARD ON THE GODS-SLAVES AND NIMMIL! NOW DAMMIT! MOVE!"

I glanced around at Missy, then at guards, as Yerk ran off shouting my orders "Spread out you two and watch for whatever it is, Missy throw me my armour and my pants from there beside you"

Dressing quickly while slightly panicking was more awkward than I'd expected, and the chainmail went first modesty be damned for the moment as Missy threw over the requested to me in a swift movement. What the fuck was going on?

Unfortunately I got my answer only a moment after the chainmail slid down my frame and I fastened the belt at my waist with one hand (bloody akward with the sheath still gripped in it), enchanted longsword in the other at the ready and heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. Then my blade was starting to faintly emit that furious white light it did when unnatural was nearby...

...and the shadows in the darkest corner of the room by the window, the one not facing where the sun was my mind noted idly, seemed to coalesce in smoky wisps wreathed in as my wards screamed warnings directly to my brain. Something...emerged from the wispy smoke, shrieking silently as my wards triggered at its hostile entry to my santum...flames seemed to flick at it with little impact as the something became a human shape of shadowy darkness with translucent wings of shadows that screamed in my mind of wrongness...

'OH CRAP! Someones trying pull a Stannis and Shadow baby me!" blew through my thoughts as I desperately ignited the abilities of the holy blade in my hand and a glowing white light emanated from it...filling the room with its brightness and causing the creature to roar at me in rage...

"FUCK YOU TOO!" I snared back focusing on the rising rage to push down the fear before launching into a desperate chant of one of my arcane spells; Magic Missile in fact as I dropped the sheath to free my hand for the bastardised one-handed casting Missy had showed me. It was just before Dusk and I had yet to perform my daily rituals to the Boss for my spells so I was stuck with my arcane ones and whatever I hadn't cast in the last 24 hours. Which was most of them thankfully, but my components were across the room for the better ones and shadow baby likely needed magic to harm.

Snarling out the last of the incantation of the spell I pointed my hand at the creature that was stalking towards me with and indistinct yet somehow wrong face upon its shadowy face. I didn't have to worry about it as the arcane power of the weave flowed through me and poured out my hand, well finger, in the form of two bolts of purple-red coloured arcane energy. Both of which closed the short distance between the creature and me in an instant...

...staggering the abomination back slightly, before its 'head' snapped back toward us and gave a wide mouthed and demonic roar as burning red eyes appeared in that shadowy 'skull' of a face as its clawed feet pressed as if to jump at me...

...only for the sound of chanting, and the feeling of heat, to my side caused me to shifted into a defensive position and glance out of the corner of my eye. And seeing the still undressed form of Missy chanting furiously, arms seeming be wreathed in flames as she did so...before snapping them forward in a shooting motion as the flames appeared to flow forward into the shape of an Arrow? Spear? Bolt?...

...causing me to blink as it blazed forward in a burst of heat and condensed flame that slammed into the chest of the creature before us. Sending it falling backwards into the wall behind it as flames seemed to war with shadows in its chest as it flailed about weakly in confusion. A feral grin reached my face as the creature began to die before my eyes, but the anger boiling in my orcish blood called for me to give this...thing...no chance to recover and roaring a battle cry I charged forward to slash it with the blessed weapon held in both my hands...

...unholy shrieking, like nails on a chalkboard, filled my ears for...a second, a minute, hours?...as the shining blade came in contact with the 'skin' of the creature. Severing an arm as the burning flame in its chest seemed to race out along the black shadowy 'skin' of the abomination in response. By the time of my second slash the creature was already beginning to burn away to nothingness like some messed up horror anime, or a nightmarish children's cartoon...

'Master are you injured?" Missy was somehow at my side as I panted from the sudden exertion. I shook my head in the affirmative. But the wards were still screaming warnings in my head, and not for my floor this time, but below us...

"I'm fine Missy, but we need to head downstairs now I don't think...no...I'm not the target..." I grunted snapping back as the sounds of shouting and the clash of weapons came from the floors below as if to confirm the suspicion that popped into my mind. Then an explosion and the loud swearing of that gnome even over snarling orcs battle crys...

"WITH ME NOW!" I snapped, pacing towards the door and grabbing my components pouch as I went with Missy striding along beside me. My two acolytes had froze and only my shouting had woken them from their paralysis...falling in behind us, weapons at the ready and now hopefully ready for battle. I'd deal with them later and pound the freezing in the face of...whatever that was...out of them in the coming weeks.

'Nightwalker?...no too small...Wraiths?...but from where?...undead maybe?...fuck...kill it first Karguk...figure out later...' I thought descending the stairs towards the most heavily warded areas of the tower; the room of the God-slaves and the Components Storeroom. The God-slaves bedroom had the most extensive blood wards, protections from evil and anti-demon wards I, Missy, Ghorza and Oggy could muster...and something had just...bounced off...them...

'But this stupid...' some part of my mind told me as it tried to make sense of what was going on '...the others KNOW I'm a ward heavy paranoid and that attacking like this will get them killed in retaliation...'

Outside I could heard the sudden ringing of alarm bells as word spread of the attack here and clan would hopefully jump into action. They'd prepared for any betrayal from their guests...and guard shifts were double strength at least these past weeks. Whoever had decided to do this had made a big mistake if they thought Sparta clan would be some pushover to be taken by shadowy magical assassins...

--

[Zahgorim 11]

Keep, Stronghold of Sparta

"...e up! Master the alarm! Master Zahgorim wake up!" and some rough shoving startled him awake, as even as he opened blurry eyes and fought the ache in his head from the hangover, Zahgorim instinctively grabbed for his enchanted axe. This of course earned a startled grunt from beside him as he shoved himself up, groaning as he could hear the shouts of shouting and the alarm bell in the distance. Beside him his slave Sylfine was the only one in the bed with him; his mate Breyza gone to see his new conquest with his whelp, his human slave, and of course Oggy,

"Help me into my armour now!" he snarled at her throwing on pants and his boots as fist banged on the door a moment later before one of squad leaders, Cardac, burst through a moment later evidently impatient at the young warriors. His slave though ignored the sudden presence of the warriors coming through the door and began helping him into the first layer of cloth armour as he spoke, well more growled, to Cardac.

"What's happening? Which of those bastards fuckin betrayed us? It's those fuckers the Cryptbitchers or whatever isn't it?"

Cardac shook his head as Zahgorim allowed quickly secured the straps with his slave, before walking over to step into the half-plate on the stand nearby. He'd rather not run into battle without his armour, even if it wasn't the full set, on if he had the chance, and he felt he needed his brain to wake up from the tiredness. He'd trained both Sylfine and Marya in how to help him get into the armour quickly anyway, and his half-elf moved with practiced ease binding the straps at the back of the armour even as he and Cardac talked, and the two guards looked around warily into the shadows.

"Don't know exactly Chief, these...shadow thingies...appeared in the dark areas main courtyard and near the Shaman's tower and started attacking anyone there. I've sent over warriors to help the shaman as there's fighting in the tower with...magic...and stuff being throw around. It was Karguk's boyos that sounded the alarm even before the first one appeared in the courtyard"

"Is Karg okay, what of the other clan war-chiefs?"

"There's fighting in the tower Chief but don't know how bad, I've sent everyone armed out into the courtyard to handle the...things...there. Kurnak of the Red Axes, Vorghta of the Night-tombs and that fucking Bearclaw giant were all drinking in the main entrance with Chief Brejuk, along with their shamans and escort and they were arming themselves as I came for you Boss"

"Grrrr...fine, let's go then and slaughter the fools, things or whatever attacking us. Slave stay here" he growled as the last strap at the back was tightened and he strode forward, accepting a shield for his left arm, without looking back at the 'Yes Master' response from the slave. Even as he stomped out of the room Zahgorim could hear the loud thump of iron boots on the stone floors, and sounds of swords and shields in motion alongside the shouts and swears of his clan orcs who held them. In mere minutes he was on standing on the upper 'balcony' of the keep looking down unto the main hall, where the doors stood wide open into the growing gloom of the late evening outside. Below he saw his warriors straggling towards the doorway and he increased his pace before roaring down to those below...

"FORM UP YOU FUCKS! FORM UP NOW! SHIELDS UP FRONT AND SPEARS OUT IDIOTS!"

'Fools are just running to the sounds of fighting with no plan' he growled mentally as he descended the stairway, and the sounds of confusion and fighting from outside increased with each step. Thankfully though his roared commands seemed to have kicked in the training of the idiots streaming into the hall from the floors below and above from the other side. Even as he decended they were forming up into a crude series of lines based on what weapons they had in hand; tower and kit shields with blessings at front, with those with halberds and bill hooks just behind, and then their female auxiliary archers behind them. Not there was more than five dozen there as yet we he'd descended the last steps and he and his guards joined them facing the open doorway into the yard of the stronghold. A scene of where his warriors were milling around as a few stabbed at...shadow winged things...crawling the wall near the towers and archers on the walls were firing arrows down unto them with the Gates closed for a...

"A fight is it! Who dares attack me...I mean us! Ah looked at ye all fancy-smancy in lines! Oi we fightin' or having a dance?" came the booming tones from behind them, turning his head Zahgorim say the presence of the ten foot tall Chief of the Bearclaw tribe struggle his way out of the doorway to his left. It was one of the few rooms in the Keep...stronghold in general...the massive orc could fit in and they'd had to let him sleep their as the other temporary buildings on the slopes below were too. Behind him his warriors, and those of the other Chiefs were waiting their turn to exit as the giant orc stood back up after ducking down.

"MAGIC SHADOW THINGS CHIEF WYRMOG!" Zahgorim shouted back as he braced his shield with the warrior beside him, all the others around him jostling into now well drilled and familiar strengths. Glancing back he saw Old Breyjuk assembling more of the clans warriors into a crude shieldwall near Karguk's tower and even from here Zahgorim could see the bright flashes of light from Karg's tower "THE HUMANS SEND THEIR DEMONS AGAINST US IT SEEMS AND THEY ATTACK MY SHAMAN!"

"Fools they are then..." the old shaman that Karg had warned him to be wary off announced, iron spear banging off the ground as it followed just behind the beefy Chief Wyrmog the clan warriors and shamans evidently all muddled up "...to think mere demons can overcome the power of the Gods"

Above him he could hear the female auxiliaries shouting something from the walls, but the noise was too loud from the yard and battle cries for any of it to make sense to him. The chatter and noise coming from the various other clan warriors that were not us own was not helping of course, but whatever the case the time had come to finish off these creatures, ensure Karg wasn't dead and then to find out who needed die for this insult against Sparta clan.

"SHIELDWALL ADVA..." was all he managed to snarl out, voice rising over those of the other warchiefs before it was suddenly drown out by the sights and sounds of the stronghold's wood gates exploding into the yard in a blazing explosion. Zahgorim barely had time to yell out "COVER" and bring his own shield up before a gust of hot air travelled across the yard and through the open 'doorway' of the Keep, along with a terrifying roar of the detonation itself and the broken remains of the gates. Those warriors already in the yard of the stronghold were either blown violently backwards, or merely knocked dazed to the ground by being too near to the burst of power. A few fighting nearest the gate itself were consumed by the angry flames that exploded outwards, shrieks and screams starting, and ending, abruptly after a few seconds till the whole area around Zahgorim took on this eerie silence. Even he himself was momentarily stunned by the force of the explosion and froze for a moment as...

...more of those shadow things walked through the dying gout of flame, on all fours this time, followed behind swiftly by two robed humanoids with staffs in hand, and around them a dozen forms of the vile bony and rotten figures of undead with shadow cloaked flesh. Zahgorim wouldn't forget the creatures anytime soon after their far too recent battle with the horror that had been below their stronghold. As the fire flickered away and robed figures became more distinct he saw the faces of what appeared to be humans, or perhaps half elves, along with two other plated armoured warriors that stood just behind the apparent wizards.

Reacting on instinct and the drills beaten into him these past three years he softly ordered his warriors forward, step by step, shields together. As before them all around the yard those knocked down by the blast either lay groaning on the ground dazed, or were struggling to push themselves back up as the invaders strolled into their stronghold almost casually. In the distance he though he heard the faint sounds of fighting down the slopes in the 'town' where the visitors and 'market' was encamped. Evidently the female archers on the walls were quicker thinking than he'd expected, as suddenly arrows began to pelt down on the invaders coming throught main gateway...

...only to bounce harmless off...something...that flared a yellowish colour around the two robed figures, while the undead monsters they'd brought with them, like those he'd fought before, seemed unaware of their impact as the stared forward with glowing red eyes. Seemingly annoyed by the arrows Zahgorim watched as one of the robed figures raised a staff calmly while chanting, aiming at the wall to its right...before a bolt of flame erupted from the end of the staff to shoot upwards. Screams soon followed even as Zahgorim braced his shield as his own warriors crossed the threshold of the Keep entrance in unison, spears now descending before his eyes in the darkening gloom beyond. Roars of anger and banging of weapons behind him told him the warriors of the clans, and their chiefs and shamans were marching forward with them now...

...evidently startling the robed figures for a moment as heads swivelled in his directions and Zahgorim what sounded like some muffled swearing as they advanced out. Again the staff moved, this time in his direction, as well as that annoying human chanting. Still he had time to roar out "SHIELDS" and he braced himself down on one knee shield on the ground, as the shield brother behind him's shield descended over his head and throwing him into darkness filled only with that confined breathing...

...before suddenly light and burning heat ignited with a slam into the shield before him, driving him back slightly with its intensity...only to be brace immediately by the warrior behind him. Some part of his mind reminded him to thank Karg and Oggy for the holy blessings they'd placed upon their shields and armour to handle just such evil magic. Because being on fire did not appeal to Zahgorim as he adjusted his shield and glanced through the gap in...

"HAH FOOLS! FIRE WILL NOT HARM THE CHILD OF FIRE GIANTS! NOW FACE THE FURY OF CHIEF WYRMOG THE BEARCLAWED!" came the roar from the aforementioned fire giant blooded orc warchief as Zahgorim heard his heavy booted feet stomp forward while laughing in that evil booming tone of his. The invaders, the living ones at least, did not looked very pleased by these developments...indeed seeming a little shocked as the angry ten foot tall orc with burning (literally as he was slightly on fire) orc warchief marched forward beside Zahgorim's shieldwall...followed along behind by the Chiefs and Shamans of the Red Axes and Night-tombs. No the invaders did not look happy indeed...

"SO YOU'RE THE FUCKS WHO TRIED TO SEND SHADOW BABIES AFTER ME! BOY ARE YOU FUCKED YOU BASTARDS!" came the roar from across the yard at the doorway to Shaman's Tower. If they invader had seemed unhappy before they seemed even more-so now as Zahgorim was sure he heard one curse as Karg stomped out of the Tower with that blazing white and foul sword grasped in one hand, while a blood red nimbus surrounded his form. Though for some reason he had no pants on, and Zahgorim was just glad the chainmail extended as far as it did as he could do without Karg's junk ruining this memory when they won and killed these bastards. Flanking him on one side was the weird little human Karg called a gnome, and on the other Karg's pet slave-wizard (who seemed surprisingly under-dressed for a battle Zahgorim mused) all being followed up by the his friend's acolytes...

"SO IT'S TRUE! YOU HARPER'S AND THE BLACKSTAFF WILL PAY FOR THIS AFFRONT TO THE HOST TOWER! NOW DIE! KILL THEM ALL MY SERVANTS! KILL THE WRETCHED ORCS! TAKE THE NEVERWINTER BITCH AND THE GNOME ALIVE! WE WILL..." one of the robed humans shouted waving its hands and staff in the air frantically as more arrows descended. Though suddenly as they advanced Zahgorim noticed guttural chanting from behind him, even over the human's ranting and the sound of his warriors feet. Suddenly an iron spear flew through the air with a whistling shriek towards the shouting human, again the yellow barrier flared ...but this time the missile flew true. Slamming forward into, and through, the shocked looking human whose chest it had just smashed into as, he evidently, staggered backwards in shock. Zahgorim almost laughed at the shock on the creatures face. The old shaman evidently did laugh as Karg across the way shouted with himself almost in unison.

"ATTACK!!!"

--

[Krowluc 04]

Lower Slopes of Sparta

It had all started out as such a pleasant day really. Krowluc had risen early as usual, or at least the version of early that existed in the orcish 'town' here, and begun his morning exercises under a clear blue sky before driving his new recruits through their paces. Their whining and complaints had been beautiful music to his experienced trainer ears. Though to his surprise they were already used to a fairly harsh discipline during training and most of the complaints were over their fellow clan-orcs getting to slack off while they had to train more.

It was another reason he was finding he liked working with this orc clan; they were actual professionals, or at least trying to be far more than even the human and elven bands in the north. It was a very strange development, but a welcome one he'd thought as he'd retired for some grub and booze with some of the band in the 'tavern' they'd established. Another nice development that was as well he found as they drank their flagons of ale; it was an actual fair imitation of a tavern he found (for orcs) and even now at this early hour (again for orcs) the place was half-full with warriors drinking and eating in that loud, crude, tribal orc manner.

Or at least they had been till the sounds of explosions and battle-cries being shouted outside initial confused everyone...well beyond the two different clan warriors in the corner evidently too busy snarling insults and threats at each other. Or the handful watching the exhausted looking slave, a former Luskan guardswoman he'd discovered, who was dancing 'seductively' for them. Dancing terribly in truth, but orcs were easily amused he'd found, and it was curious to note that while the slave bore the usual scars and whip marks of slavery it was odd how these Spartan orcs seemed to impose a standard for treating slaves. Even the goblin and kobold slaves he'd seen were healthier than he'd have expected...much, much healthier in fact. Still the dance and the argument had been rapidly interrupted as the tavern door was suddenly busted open by an armoured orc being flung into the 'door' of the taven and smashing it off its hinges as he collapsed backwards into the tavern...

...and that was when Krowluc's nice, pleasant, day took a turn for the cart of manure it had now become as he dodged the swing to the walking corpse-skeleton before him. One that had charged at him waving its rotten sword, smelling of a freshly dug earth and decay even if the disgusting thing was likely dead only a few years at the most. Krowluc suspected it had once been an orc and likely had crawled its way out of the ground nearby; the Spartans had mentioned something about a battle here and this thing seemed like a cross between a zombie and a skeleton thrall. And there were more of the things around him, though these were being hammered at by all those orcs who were actually awake and armed at the time of the attack. His band of ten, and Baryeras, amongst them as they fought their way away from the tavern...

'Dodge left. Block. Parry. Strike. Deflected, twist, turn...slash at arm. Block, twist down...and smashing slash" his mind translated as his armoured form avoided the blows of the rotting thing. It was best not to get blooded by one of them if at all possible, many an adventurer or mercenary had died from the after-effects and some rotting disease as from being slain by these rather useless undead fighters as he smashed the sword arm of the corpse thing to pieces. Now shorn of its arm the others of his group swarmed it and its disgustingly unnatural compatriot with him; raining blows down on the creature to disrupt the necromantic enchantment by sheer physical force.

He glanced around. Dozens of orcs were surging out of the wooden buildings, a few of which were on fire, but many were completely unarmoured and armed only with what weapons that were to hand when they were likely woken up. Against the walking corpses that was perfectly fine, just as with his recruits he saw a dozen of said orcs promptly smash up another undead thing further up the 'street' with equal ease. No, the true problem was the handful of shadow winged things mixed in amongst these corpses which seemed immune to anything beyond enchanted or perhaps silvered or blessed weapons. He still wasn't sure if they were Shadow Demons or perhaps small Nightcrawlers and what was most effective against them. Whatever they were they caused his skin to crawl and a concern to rise as he saw one turn towards them as it finished tearing apart some warriors from a clan not his employers.

"Oh fuck...spread out..." he managed to snap out as the thing lunged at them, dashing forward like a wolf towards its prey. Krowluc twisted to the side as the black shadow came for him in the gloom, managing to evade its charge just barely and bring his trusty steel sword in a vicious slash along the creature's now exposed side...

...to no visible impact as he rolled away from the shadow-thing as it slashed a claw/hand/bladed-something at him like a lion swiping. Again managing to dodge as Thieving Kyras flung two throwing daggers at the thing, coming back out of the roll he saw them hit the creature but merely annoy it with the impact evidently. Even the slashing and thrust of the other fighters that now surrounded it seemed nothing but an annoyance than an actual threat...

'FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK...all our better gear is in our damned room, and Nimmil's up in the castle. Stupid fucking thing is going to fucking kill us at this rate. Fucking demons in the town! This is Godsdamned un-fucking-fair' he managed to growl mentally as his body protested the sudden exertions from him needed to not die. They were hitting the damned thing...but all that was doing was buying them time for...

...a bolt of colour flew over his shoulder and into the shadowy horror before him. Slamming into it and earning a silent roar of pain from the creature as it reared back in response. On instinct Krowluc brought his blade in an upward motion, then slashing it back down in a vicious attack with all his strength behind the blow right into the 'head' of that abominable shadow thing. It didn't appear to do any damage beyond staggering creature and throwing it of balance a moment...but damn did it feel good to do. Moments later Tymora seemed to have shown favour upon them as armoured orcs in the form of the Spartan 'patrols' rushed forward blades flashing at the creature like his own...

...but unlike the blades of him and compatriots the blades these orcs clad in the symbols of his employers clan, and their patron God, slammed home and caused obvious damage to the creature. Even as Krowluc took a moment to recover his breath the shadow thing was struggling up to fight on two feet, twisting and turning and even trying to use its 'wings' as a shield against the blows. A defence that was failing as the creature flailed about seemingly desperate before a surge of shadows at the corner of his eyes slammed into the 'back' of the creature with a flair of black energy in the darkening gloom of smoke and battle cries all around them. With one last shriek, that caused Krowluc to wince, the creature reared up before vanishing like smoke from a dying fire...revealling a hooded and cloaked figure in black, with darkened armour standing there. Despite his distaste for the clerics God Krowluc voiced his thanks to the Night, or perhaps Shadowblade, of Shargaas The Night Lord. The cowled figure though was not one to seek compliments evidently as it hissed out in orders of sorts in response to them.

"Cease your feeble flatteries, this is but a distraction...there is a cleric of the human gods nearby control these things, as well as those who fancy themselves imitators of the Night Lords path. We must slay them swiftly and their beasts and join the battle above..." the hissing voice commanded pointing its vicious looking (and likely poisoned) darkened blade towards the castle above them. Following the blade Krowluc could see explosions and bright flashes of light indicating battle at the main gate to the place. The black clad and cowled looked around at the Spartan warriors who had joined them to slay the beast "...and warriors. Your shaman gifts you with blessed weapons and magic, and now you must use it. Slay the last of these creatures and...ah our foe reveals himself. Attack him now! Slay them!"

The hissing voice finished suddenly pointing at an armour clad figure in the distance wielding a mace and shield with the symbol of Bane upon it. Flanking the figure were two other warriors, living ones this time with weapons at the ready as they stepped over the corpses of the orcs they had just slain. Even from here Krowluc could see they did not luck happy...most likely due to the dozens of orcs, himself included, charging towards them weapons at the ready. Not surprising really considering the fact they'd obviously sent in a number of undead mixed in with demons immune to mundane weapons. That was bloody expensive magic to use after all, and really should have been enough to wipe out your standard orc or goblin clan out in the savage lands; this lot looked like a veteran, and high pay grade, adventuring band. 'Why haven't we won yet?' was likely going through their minds as the two fighters defending the cleric meet their charge along with another one of those shadow creature things.

Obviously Krowluc left the shadowy abomination to the orcs with weapons that could actually harm the damned things. Instead he, Gruk, Baryeras and Kryas attacked the leather clad twin sword wielder to the creature's left, and the other orcs the one on the right or charging at cleric who was beginning to chant frantically. Strangle the black clad figure of the orc priest had vanished to Krowluc's unease; still he attacked in familiar pattern with his four surviving comrades; he and Gruk with blades slash, the half-elf finally free to use his bow while Kyras used the last of her throwing daggers. As he expected the twin blade wielder, an attractive half-elf women he saw, was good. Worryingly good as she effortlessly deflected his and Gruk's attacks, then counterattacking seemingly every enemy around her with ease as a careless orc warrior nearby got gutted, and Krowluc himself was pushed back by the almost dancing woman...

...then as suddenly as before the Priest of Shargaas seemed to materialise, as if from the darkening gloom itself, right behind the chanting cleric of Bane, Startling the human priest, as Krowluc again desperately defended against the half-elf along with the others, saw the priest of the Night Lord suddenly reach around from behind the human priest, gripping his helmeted head but a moment, pulling it back fractionally, then the other hand with dagger in hand came around the opposite side and stabbed upwards. Slamming up through the thin mail there, through the humans jaw and likely into his brain itself as blood gushed out alongside a gurgling groans...

...noises that distracted his own half-elf opponent for but a moment. Eye glancing, then widining fractionally at the sudden death of her party member and the appearance of another foe at her back, a freeze in those dancing graceful moments for but a second. But that was a fatal second as Krowluc pressed his attack, his long sword slashing towards her, disrupting the movement of her left handed blade and upsetting the balance of her body and form. Her head swivelled, a flash of something...panic? determination?...he wasn't sure, but it did matter as Gruk dashed in now with his axe...that the elf barely caught with her right hand, but found herself staggered by the force of his blow...

"NO!" she managed to gasp out as she fell to one knee, desperately trying to rising immediately as she caught another blade descending for her head from above. Again she caught it, left handed blade appearing as if by magic to catch the blow that shriek as metal scrapped off metal...but she was open now and Krowluc palmed the dagger in his belt into his free hand and stabbed forward, grunting with effort. Even now it was a testament to the other mercenaries' skill that her head snapped back instantly to nearly avoid the thrust...but nearly was never enough in this game he knew. She was dead without even issuing a cry as the dagger buried itself into her eye socket with a suddenly lovely squelchy-crunching sound...

"Now the strongho...ah perhaps not" the hiss voice muttered as Krowluc looked up as he gasped for breath from the life and death struggle. The whole area had suddenly fallen silent beyond the crackle of flames and the cries of the wounded. Descending from the castle above them was dozens of warriors in a shieldwall formation...along with Nimmil of all things balanced upon the shoulder of the orc shaman...

"Whys the Boss got no pants on? And whys there a tiny person on his shoulder?" one of the Spartan orcs asked from somewhere nearby. Krowluc rested on his bloody sword and staring at the bodies of the three dead attackers and looking for any identifying marks. And there it was...little medallions around their necks, or a ring, with matching symbols he vaguely recognised. Black Iron Lily 'company' if he remembered correctly. Cruel and psychotic bastards from what he'd understood, but up there on the list of hires for if you wanted someone dead and not have your name given up. Evidently the Spartans had not really interest in that as another voice answered the first and earning a round of groans and cheers.

"Do we really want to know? No we don't, so shut up. We just beat more demons and dead things. We are fuckin the awesome! I say we make sure the rest of these things are all dead and get so drunk we'll be running around with no pants on!"

--

When: Attack of the Demon Using Scumbag Adventurers 3 Days (Okay 1353DR)

Where: My Tower, my now reorganised and tidy tower

Okay, first things first; we got attacked by a band of murder hobos hired by Luskan of all people. Because fuck Luskan. I haven't had time obviously to write since my last entry because they send goddamned winged shadow babies after me...well the clan and the Godslaves rather than me directly...and totally wrecked the place. My room and the lower level of my tower in particular between all the fighting them and then the magic unleashed to actually do them in. You know how hard it was to get all the furniture together in the first place? Really fucking hard with tribal orc level craftsmen I'll tell you. I'd lost a significant fraction of my room, and the kitchen below, thanks to the battle and it took several of hours of annoyance and effort to sort through to ensure nothing of importance was damaged...

That wasn't the main concern. Missy is okay, got injured but I healed her immediately and showing no ill effects even if I'm not particularly skilled. I've sent out runners to Oggy and to Ghorza as well to see if everything is okay there (and I pray they're safe) but the sight from here shows no signs of trouble from either location, or from anywhere else along valley. If only we could see small bands just as easily as armies or villages from here using magical help. I should be happy, losses were light and Horde with us having some input in it is looking more likely. Its just...

Honestly I don't like to admit it but I was caught flat footed by this attack and the state of my furniture is the least of my problems, though truthfully it really grates as some of my books were singed in the battle. Luskan will pay for that outrage let me tell you. Having talked to our own new murder hobo additions, Nimmil's band, at least we've gotten an idea of whom and what were dealing with it. That and the taking of a prisoner from the attackers; something I'm going to talk about first frankly as its making me even more uneasy than the attack itself.

Mostly because it raises serious questions of what I thought I knew of Faerunian magic and its limitations and the knowledge extracted...no tortured, I won't start using euphemisms to cover for necessary evils this time...from the fine fellow who killed dozens of orcs, many whom I knew personally or had trained, by their attacks. That and another answer to a question I never asked arrived as well, and that raises its own questions for me into the future. First though. Phargk did something that should be possible to my knowledge, which indicates my knowledge is incomplete or that some of what was 'gamed' is incorrect per my 'Holy Books'. Worrying because the multiple editions often contact each others in some areas and I don't want more variables thrown in unto of that to try counter with my limited resource base. I don't like unknowns like this, especially after fucking shadow demon things tried to kill me in my fucking bed!

Our captured attacker was a Lich. Or Demi-lich I suppose. And was is the operative term here because that old shaman bastard healed the undead spell-caster back to a mortal human man. That should not be possible by everything I understand, understood whatever, about the situation. Yes it seemed a costly spell-work, empowered gems including a diamond for Gods sake! But he somehow created this unholy hybrid form of Raise Dead and high level healing that turn a Lich into a fucking living breathing human again. I assume destroying the dude's pyclarchy, or however you spell it, where ever it is in the world in the process. Mr. Not-Lich-anymore seemed to agree with me that this isn't possible – or that it shouldn't be but evidently it is possible. That and our new Horde Shaman is not just fuckin capable of 'turn zombie to living' but also of anti-magic Godsdamned fucking field as well! Blood hand of the Horde Leader but that could seriously fuck up any of my counters like Missy or my own arcane spells and is an 8th Level Spell to my knowledge. How fucking strong is that old bastard?

Now capturing the Lich Wizard who is now a Not-Lich Wizard was not friggin easy I'll tell you. First we bloody well knew was summoned demons (immune to non-magical weapons of bloody course!) attacking my tower, the courtyard and the 'village' below us before the wizard and some of his mates blew in the main gate. I actually thought he was dead when Phargk sent a magic plus whatever spear through his chest in the Zombie's rant at us about bullshit...till whatever illusion he was using for the human facade dispelled and the fucker stood back up with a spear through his chest. Problem for him though – decently high level adventurer party he'd got with him, but they were NOT expecting several high level orcish shamans, a half-fire giant berserker, two non-orc wizards...or several dozen of my acolytes with their own low level spells. It hurt losing some of boys, even a dumb useless fucker like Hedb, but we took those bastards down before they knew what hit them – oh your shadow demons are immune to normal weapons?

Well all my Battlestaves and Warswords are armed and armoured in blessed weapons, along with many of the clan in general! Those demons of theirs were a whole lot less effective than they thought they'd be against a mere orc clan! Hah!

So we got him pinned down eventually and Phargk pulled his impossible and should not be doable magical healing and we suddenly had screaming and terrified old dude in place of the coldly mocking talking skeleton with the glowing blue eyes. Creepy as fuck to watch by the way; all that bone and dead flesh squiring and merging and just becoming 'alive' again, and then the blood...ugh...yeah not going to talk on it. Messed up. Whole bloody world is messed up. Bloody Orc shamans should not be...GAH!

Okay to get away from that unto what information he managed to give through all the screaming and the horrified 'Impossible!' ranting. The Host Tower sent them to clean up loose ends evidently, him being a mage of said organisation and these murder hobos of the Black Iron Lily, being his muscle to do so. Overkill in their minds for some mere orcs...but if they failed it could be assumed it was Neverwinter or the Harpers who were actually behind the attack. Mr. No-Longer-a-Lich being able to report back if they got KO'd by whatever was there...well here...when he 'arose' again from his body's destruction. Honestly not sure what they'll make of his Horcrux of Voldie being destroyed (again assuming it has because he's...yah know...not a Lich anymore) but I'm changing things from the script. And with everything else that bloody worries me – though obviously its not a significant change as the Boss hasn't got unto me. But...

But Neverwinter and Luskan are evidently having skirmishes. Or at least open warfare skirmishes between them even before Mr. Not-a-Lich left the City of Sails. And that shouldn't be happening right now, not at all. Right now the Host Tower should be usurping power from, or taking power over, the High Captains not conspiring against Keleban fucking Blackstaff and sending high paid adventuring parties after us. Because that means whatever that party did in the time that should have been won't get done. Because who knows what they should have been doing. Or if this is going to draw attention from walking WMD wizards like the Big E or the Blackstaff. Which would be bad, very bad. We're nowhere near ready yet and right now, or soon, the King of Shadows should be kicking off near Neverwinter – or at least I think it is and Neverwinter shouldn't be fighting Luskan as well. I need things to stay on track till the ToT. Or my unmentioned 'Prophetic' abilities will get very useless very fast. And bring unwanted attention where I don't need it yet. What if the next time the attack is too strong for us?

Another issue is the Gods-slaves. Or one in particular of the six for the moment; Three, or more usually Silver, as we call her due to her odd silver-blonde hair. Something strange happened during the battle in the tower when we were killing the shadow demons and answered the question of Silver's heritage, she's an Aasimar most definitely but...it raises another for me. While the others cowered in the corner of the room when I entered having 'sensed' the demons come for them fighting at the door...this girl seemed to rise on autopilot, taking one of the paladin's blades kept their for emergencies into hand. And killed one of the creatures that entered that tried to enter the room past me with the blade covered in that white flame – then ordered me to do my fucking job and kill the demons in Orcish before falling unconscious. What's worse she sound like the Boss orc himself and felt like him on a tiny-scale. Fantastic as it my job easier to protect them at that moment and tells me what the girl's blood is...but seriously what the fuck?

Did the Boss or the Cave Mother place a fragment of themselves in them? Are they 'programmed' to respond like this in certain scenarios? It felt 'live' in terms of orders to me. But I know they 'dream' of the Boss and her many nights and they 'train' them. Is this going to be regular thing? Are they fully human/elf anymore or likely chibi avatars or something? Because none of us taught the girl to move like that, or hit as hard as she must have. Even the others cowered...but did not scream or anything. Just in the corner at the shrine huddling close together. Basically what the fuck I ask again?

So basically I'm three days in, in the middle of fixing all the damage our defences and trying to handle all the chaos and rage that's erupted amongst the various clans at this attack. That and trying to figure out all these bloody revelations without anyone but Missy to talk to. And even then I can't talk about certain things like 'past life prophet BS' there and this is all very stressful and tiring even with having had winged shadow babies try to off me. Though honestly this little incoherent written rant has helped as always and I feel much better now and focus on resulting matters such as;

· Getting the spell-books of the dead dudes that are currently piled up in the Keep for me, myself and I. And Missy to of course, can't forget her after all her help. After we decide what to do with the old reborn wizard once we've bled him of everything he knows. I vote kill most definitely – he's far too dangerous to let live as all it takes is teleport...and boom we have an escape on our hands, or lots of dead orcs. Missy was a naive you noob...this guy is a ruthless fucker who wiped out his own village he says after being zombiefied to cover up his identity.

· Burning all the bodies so that we don't have more bodies nearby for our necromancer enemies to use against us. Burn, Burn, Burn I say. I can see now why cremation might be so popular in some parts of the world. Especially where evil clerics or wizards are common. Because that lot wouldn't have been the threat they were without those several dozen walking dead to distract the defence from the shadow demons and themselves.

And a host of other things all revolving around strengthening our defences and turning this very angry proto-horde toward someone we can take on right now, that isn't Luskan. Like the Uthgarders and other savages living to our west and east. Because marching on Luskan is a sure way to get dead no matter what the other clans younger warriors want to do. Thankfully though the majority of the chiefs and other shaman's understand that and once Old Breyjuk and the other injured Chiefs are fully recovered then I suspect 'negotiations' will be complete fairly swiftly. Something positive I suppose from this giant mess.

Slan go foill I suppose.

--

When: 1353 Dale Reckoning, 'High' Summer

Where: Upper Floor my Tower

And so our little conference begins to draw to a close. Honestly after the attack things have moved remarkably swiftly in regards all involved. I think in general terms the shadow demon attack merely sped up where we were going to end up. The Bearclaws ten foot tall Chief Wyrmog is now Warlord Wyrmog of this small proto-horde and that old scary fuck Phargk is now our Head Shaman, with me as his immediate Lieutenant' put in the words of 'as the Cunning Warrior serves the One' so as to hammer home petty religious matters unto of me being put in my place so to speak. In truth its one of the better results for both myself and the clan as a whole; looking back on events with hindsight my pushing for a greater role within any horde as yet was rather naive. Sparta clan was unheard of as yet, formed of two weaker clans Stormfang and Thunderblades, and while we'd beaten all challengers for our territory the truth is numerically...we're very small compared to the largest strongholds in particular. Arrogance somewhat on my part I suppose, but with the Boss on my case I'd prefer to call it 'Divine Inspiration' instead or even just desperation perhaps.

But whatever the case the basis of an agreement has been reached between our various clans, mostly on the basics of forming a horde; not to betray each other, not raid each other when at war...basically – you don't attack me and won't attack you till these other dudes are dead. Understandable really, and the rest of meeting in regards planning comes down to arranging a meeting point for our various clans come next spring to start said attack on the Uthgarders. That's the other thing that's easy to overlook, and annoys me honestly, is that this is more a giant raid than an organised military campaign. We are not, unfortunately, going to be the hordes of Obould Many-Arrows (I wonder how old he is at the moment? Still a child or a teenager?) with a vast army in the tens, nearly hundred, of thousands. So the basics of fighting are we get through the winter, because launching a large scale action in autumn is of course a terrible idea by any measure, and then beginning assembling our combined forces in the spring west somewhat of here near where the village of Styrewood used to be pre-Zahgorim. We then head unto the abandoned village with the 'combined army' and then our objective, such as an orish horde has one, is the Fingercutters old stomping grounds; an abandoned Wizards Tower of some sort that elements of the Elk Tribe have set up shop in.

Very different to the relatively rapid response of militaries in my past life, or the clan level actions up till now, but it makes sense as campaigning in winter is a terrible idea, and by the time the warchiefs get back and start mustering their clans...it'll be late autumn at the earliest. Then again one of the 'Holy Tomes' called the 'Sons of Gruumsh' sorta indicates that delay between forming a horde and a horde rampaging so shouldn't really be surprised in that case. And from our own position it gives us time to raise up our 'army' of sorts to join said horde; because we can't afford to leave this valley vulnerable as well. So that means using our tribes vassals to both drum up our numbers...and to prevent any of them rising up in rebellion while we're away with the core of our fighting strength. If we take loses I need them to take losses too – otherwise we'd return from fighting the Uthgarders to end up fighting rebels if we're unlucky. I'm less concerned about Zybelins's Drift and Zahgorim's Conquest (ugh I can't believe we have to call it that) but still I think we might need to take a few of the men who've weapons training with us.

I won't be throwing them into the fighting if I can avoid it, but it'll limit their militia numbers and they'll serve both as hostages of a sort while being archers or Rose's bodyguard. Yeah I'll be bringing Rose...mostly because I'm caught by my own previous scheming her to be 'hostage' rather than taking a load of children from the villages as the others wanted. That and Zah'll be taking Hippy-Dippy the Druid as the second village's hostage and we need someone of equal value. This is not something I'm looking forward to explaining to Rose's Grandmother and Teacher Wifne Humbletree; because even to me it sounds dreadfully dangerous. But I have to think of the greater good of everyone here; if they rise in rebellion while I'm gone then the outcome will be a slaughter. Better a few in danger than many being killed, and I can't show favouritism over our goblin or kobold minions too much either or they'll get antsy. Or turn down this perfectly valid plan by Old Breyjuk and his advisors. All I can do it keep Rose safe; she'll be technically my apprentice after all. Or my 'attack dag' as Darth Phargk calls her and Missy. Though keeping Hippy Dippy safe in the middle of an orc army is going to be the harder prospect I expect. Bloody elf druid. Bloody Zah trying to get into her pants.

Anyway my own plan, such as it is, is to raise these vassal levies over the autumn along with supplies to feed them. Then bring them back to the stronghold here before the winter and encamp here; mostly to drill them all into a fighting force, but also just on the off chance another band of brave adventurers comes after us. Thankfully thanks to our visit by the other clans we've a small town just beneath the strong hold so plenty of room for them there, and it should also help maintain then town we've established. It also serves to create something of an artificial economy beyond pure barter as we distribute our hoard of coins and useless shiny crap as 'wages' for our warriors. Who then spend it in our tavern and from for getting our 'better' meals and shit, with the rest being soaked up by 'taxes' and them wanting 'luxuries' like personalised things for their rooms or clothing. It's a false economy, but oddly enough it generates a work and reward system to keep our minions active – it's like achievements in games from a past time. I'd call them pointless and silly really, but something that motivates people as well oddly enough, and even here the coins only have value because we pretend they have value. At least it's better than sitting in a pile down below in the stronghold and allows the veneer of civilization at a glance.

Now back to see what other info Phargk has tortured out of the old wizard dude and seeing how far from civilized we still are.

Slan go foill

--

When: 1353 Dale Reckoning, A bloody heatwave

Where: Sparta

It is bloody warm even at night and painfully sunny during the day. But truly I don't care because Oggy's back along with my little Karggy! Ain't she pretty as a peach.

And our 'guests' have departed in large measures, including that scary old fucker Phargk and the gigantic Warlord Wyrmog. I've escort forces with them, and those escorts will double as patrols for any further intrudes after doing said 'escorting' of guests. One positive sign of our new 'alliance' is that I managed to get said Congress of Shamans lead by scary old fucker to help me with rebuilding the wards on the entirety of the stronghold. I've spent the past few days rechecking every portion of these wards but they appear to be fully in line with what we agreed, and this was done before the God's. Still to be on the safe side I've begun putting my own wards, and Oggy is doing likewise, in the most important areas of the stronghold separate from the overall wardings against demons, scrying and what-not. I don't trust other clan shamans not to know some means of tampering even with such wardings. Sadly I needed such help for such a large-scale spell-work, and more than my own acolytes could give. After weighing the pros and cons I opted for a 'joint' effort – after some...encouragement...from the Boss through the Gods-slaves.

Anyway Oggys back!

From what she's telling me things are going well in the establishment of the second village. Zahgorim's Conquest; every time I hear it I want to bang my head off the wall. Anywho things are going as well as expected in the new village. The 'road' from Zybelin's Drift is nearly here, a side road to the new village is nearly there, and we've got our garrison solidly in place behind some basic defences. In regards the village itself the housing of the refugees is going well, even if their being doubled up and the likes; we've a few barns build to store food and tools, and Rose and the Druid have blessed the fields. In a few months there should be a new water powered Mill-house built on the ruins of an older one, hopefully before winter, and then we can talk about turning grain into flour and building a bakery. Really I'll be happy if there's enough shelter, food and firewood their so the villagers don't die off during the winter because of one of these being deficient. In a way my plan to take a dozen, or few dozen, of their men-folk to Sparta for a feudal levy is likely to ease any of these problems till the spring rolls along. For the moment extra supplies are being sent up from Zybelin's Drift.

Well that's that. Now to have some alone time with my orcish lady love. Slan.

--

When: 1353 Dale Reckoning, Summer

Where: Under the Stars my Tower

Boss you are a bastard sometimes you!

I do things, useful things for the cause. Survive shadow baby demon assassins. Help form the horde you wanted. And the response is...

Side-quest for you Karguk! On the other side of the world at that! Haha fuck you mortal minion!

Will he listen to all the work I need to do in the Autumn and my enchanting works and creating my paladins and my training acolytes and...a million other things...

But NO side-quest time in a few days, that could and likely take me away from home for months on end. Probably even till the Winter and that's half a year away from judging from the weather and it likely being High Summer. I don't want to go on a side-quest, I have my family and I've shite to do and Missy is freaking out silently at being possibly left along for a season or two. And did I mention I've stuff to do?

But evidently that has fallen on deaf ears of the Boss in that terrifying dream sequence in his. Evidently I should be happy I got a few days warning – though suspiciously enough those few days will be consumed laying out "What to DO and What NOT to DO!" with my clan while I'm on my 'spirit-quest' or...playing secret agent and fucking up somebody in the name of the most powerful and glorious Ilneval. Because I a particular skill set his other minions do not posses. I'm a former human and can still act quasi civilized or some bullshit like that. Or at least enough to give myself away if 'altered' in a human body to go off, hire dudes, and wreck whatever plan some enemy of the Boss is mustering up in the 'civilized lands' or some shit like that. I hate being middle management, you give a progress report and then get handed another new project. IT'S NOT FAIR!

It's never fair I find though, so I'm doing my best to ensure everyone stays safe while I'm away. From Oggy and Zah, to Missy and Rose in particular...in fairness Oggy at least understands what way to treat them. Rose seems to have done well in her care these past two weeks or so...so all I can do is hope and pray...to the Boss who seems to enjoy screwing me over. Sigh. Of to bang the auld head against the wall again.

Still I'm alot calmer than I was several hours ago...or just after I was told this 'joyous' news. Because everyone else thinks this a fucking honourfor me and the clan in general. What is wrong with these people?

Being bossed around and told you'll be chucked half around the world by your Boss is not something to aspire to. And those bloody Gods-slaves were conspiring against me!

Telling everyone the 'Holy Words of Ilneval and my Sacred Quest'. Gods-dammit, they looked all blank faced as usual but I'm sure they were smirking at me behind that.

Fuck it I'm off to get drunk. Yatta Yatta talk later.

--

[Karguk 12]

On the High Road

"Fucking bastard, couldn't put me nearer the bloody place. Walk. Walk. Walk. Fucking Divines" I muttered yet again to the empty road as I trudged along the road before me, though at least buildings were now in view after the several hours of trudging along in the merry sunshine beaming down above. Thankfully my new broad brimmed hat held the annoying sun off my -technically human- eyes as the Boss's spell-work to turn me into a human was either polymorph or alter self; but it still largely felt like being an orc, and I still had my darkvision. So sunshine was still as annoyingly lovely as ever I found as I strolled along grumbling at the nature of divine tormentors. The change, while not painful, had been definitely disconcerting and the teleport...was definitely worse when thrown unto of it...and then of course the fucker had placed me several hours away from civilization with the directions of 'Follow the road, go North, then unto Mirabar" followed by the ever vague 'Orders to come, for now let me see your worth' set of instructions. I think the Boss just enjoys playing DM and fucking with me since discovering the 'Holy Books' all those years ago.

Really all I could complain about was taking me away from my family and friends, not giving clear instructions and then plonking me on an empty road in the middle of nowhere. Yeah nothing much at all, at all...nothing big to complain about there!

That and it was bloody warm, and the chainmail plus other clothes weren't exactly my favourite things in the world right now as I sighed at the various annoyances while leaning on my travel staff a moment and glaring at the new ring on one of my fingers. It was strange being human again I found. Firstly as it was me...well me, me, when I was back in college all those years ago and a lanky skinny fucker in those years before I got an office job and therefore fat and lazy. And while I'd been tall enough by human standards it was very strange suddenly being a foot shorter in height, and not having anywhere near the same bulk. Evidently the Boss orc had decided to reach into the recesses of my mind and form the current 'me' by drawing from my memories of 'me' and matching with my roughly equivalent orcish age. Or more-so I at least look like a 'adventurer' of sorts this way than a chubby overweight merchant in Faerun terms; fair enough there really but I still have no idea how the magic behind the ring works. Damn thing won't come off without the 'password' so to speak, so at least I don't have to fear it been stolen and being suddenly revealed as an orc I suppose...but it's weird. Where did the extra body size go? And did it managed to rearrange my clothes and arm back to the right size? And give my paladin's blade a much plainer look (and also appear to match my hand size still)?

Having questions with no answers seemed to be my fate right now I figured as the walls of a town started to firm up with each step, as well as the first signs of people, here milling about like ants in front of the walls of the walled town. Unease rose up at this though, and I sighed again, and then took in a deep breath. How long had it been since I'd been around a large number of humans, and how different were the people of these lands going to be from those of Earth or just merely from the games I faintly remembered. Also would my disguise hold or would I fuck up somehow, or it fail in some measures, and suddenly find myself confronted by a host of angry people out for my orcish skin?

Because I really liked not being dead...and also really liked not having lots of angry people trying to do me harm after all. I had things to do, a ungrateful God to serve, barbarians to kill and an orc tribe to turn semi-civilized before I died at a ripe old age in my bed surrounded by dozens of books I'd read and a number of scantily clad women!

So of course each step forward towards those any sized figures and walls, which were rapidly increasing in size with those steps, was a stressful experience I found. The urge to just turn around and go the other way was rapidly rising along with the loud beating of my -technical human- heart in my chest. A small wagon with an apparent merchant, a young woman likely his daughter and two men on horseback who were likely guards almost giving me a heart attack on the spot before we both waved at each other in a friendly manner as we moved past each other. Even if I did look like a bit of scruffy and unclean traveller of sorts judging by the bored expression of the girl on the wagon and lack of concern from the horsemen guards. It was both stressful...and odd...not to have my clan brothers at my back or have any other support to rely on...

'Still so far so good...Yessire I'm just your average traveling adventurer/scholar/peddlar human! Totally not a disguised orc shaman! No not at all! I'm Karg, from the Crags, and a travelling self proclaimed lore-master! Orc Nooooo...haven't seen any nearby at all, at all!' I reminded myself once again, mouth somewhat dry as the town guards came into view. Well that was only partially from nervousness, it was bloody warm day and somebody had failed to provide his mortal minion with anything resembling more than a tiny water-skin. One of those things was first things on my purchase list...after a drink of some sort and a meal. At least I had plenty of coins hidden on person to actually pay for such things! Hurray I'm rich in the civilized lands...even if I look like scruffy beggar right now I suspect. Not that the town guards were dressed as anything more than crudely armed dudes from the middle ages, nor that much cleaner or better smelling than myself. I waved in greeting as the nearest of looked at me with a mixture of boredom, suspicion and tiredness from his position sitting on a stool beside his fellow, equally unhappy looking, guardsman. Really I might as try some half truths here, as it'll look strange if I don't know where I am.

"Hello...um honourable guardsmen...ehhh...this will sound like a very stupid question but I've had a bit of disagreement with a powerful magic user and appear to be somewhat lost..." all technically true as the Boss is a powerful magic user and I do disagree with him on this "...might I ask where I...um...well is this place and by any chance are we near Mirabar?"

The Gardsman and his mates just looked at me with incredulity...till one of them started guffawing loudly and then the others joined for a few moments as I felt my face heating in embarrassment, and felt the urge to defend myself "Hey...I don't think he'd be this big a bastard about everything. I thought I'd done a perfectly good job for the ungrateful prick but..."

"Hehehe...haaaa...okay...stop..." the primary guardsman muttered after a good chuckle, waving the others to quietness and the then myself to wait a moment as the wooden gates waited before me half open. I could see the town bustling with activity beyond "...we shouldn't laugh but really shouldn't piss off Wizards you know. Bad for your health they say"

"And travel plans evidently" one of the others muttered with amusement. I frowned, this really wasn't going how I'd wanted this to go. The main Guard nodded "Yeah bad for travel from the sounds of it too. Well you're standing outside Post Llast, my polite and lost traveler. And you've a distance to go to Mirabar I'm afraid. And that's without the road north being...more dangerous than usual. That and the ships to Luskan are going slow for a while I'm afriad"

I really could help myself, I groaned "Uggghhh...that means going through Luskan. Just great...just bloody great. That bastard...oh right sorry. I'm Karg by the way, travelling student of ancient lore and any chance I can get into your lovely town and...does it have an inn?...and why is the road more dangerous?" I asked trying to hide my suspicious nature from the end question. Because that sound really badly like a quest hook and I really want a bit of grub and sleep before any of this adventuring bullshit.

The Guardsman chuckled again "Ah a good man it seems to know to be wary of those Luskan scum. Eh...though I'm afraid you shall have to go through Luskan, and they are being their usual foul selves of late and stirring nothing but trouble along the coast. There's also word some travelers have disappeared along the High Road, so should count yourself lucky to make it here in one piece friend Karg. Luskan work I'd reckon there too...as to an Inn and staying..." he looked back at the others "...he fine by me lads, no objections?"

"Nah let him in. The sarge made us let that filthy darkie long-ears in, so shouldn't be stoppin' a'honest folk'en like us eh? Not be fair now would Bran?" one of them grunted back as I leaned on my staff. Did I mention it was bloody warm and sunny? Because it bloody well was.

The others nodded largely bored looking, and the 'officer' evidently named Bran turned back to me and jerked a thumb towards the half open gateway "Well Karg the travelling scholar, your allowed in. Got your name and what your plans already looks like. Well you seem an honest sort so just stay out of trouble and you'll be welcome...welcome somewhat...here in Post Llast. Word to the wise the locals aren't the trusting outsiders, especially in these times but their a decent sort I find. At least my wife says they are anyway..." he told me earning more amused snorts and chuckles from the four other guards "...the Alliance Arms is the only Inn in town up near the Temple of Tyr. Room and board cheap enough...if we find ye sleepin on the street your back outside these walls mind you!"

I nodded, I could afford it thankfully for quite some time in fact, then let him continue "...other than that don't cause trouble for us and things will get on merrily. If you can use that old sword on yer back there might even be work in for you, but that's for the Sarge or the First Captain though, though lately they seem take on any idiot can swing a blade..." he finished with a sigh "...so get goin. Our shift's up soon, so unless you want to do all this again with the next lot I'd hurry on"

'Well no need to encourage me there' I thought thanking them politely and walking on through the gates with the giant weight of stress lifting from my shoulders somewhat. While the entire conversation hadn't gone to ideal scenario it had got me inside the town, directions and at least the indifference of the local constabulary. All in all it had gone better than I'd feared. Though all those quest hooks were bloody annoying...though it could just be me seeing things where there isn't anything. And Ineval could be fucking Santa Claus as well.

Compared to either of our conquered villages Port Llast was truly impressive, even it was just a fortified large village in real terms of a few hundred souls. The stronghold itself was more populated...and larger in sense of you took into account the levels beneath the Keep itself and the small 'town' we'd built around the stronghold itself. Still the 'town' here was where I'd like to see the villages in Sparta's valley in a few generations; a nice securely walled village supplying the stronghold itself. Though this place seemed to be more fishing focused, or the farms were on the other side of the walls, because the fields I'd passed before the gate into the town hadn't been very impressive at all. Still the place felt like what I'd expected from a large D village; smelling of dust, sweat and filth, with the sounds of the blacksmith's hammering off in the distance mingling with the rumble of carts and footfalls from the people around me. Not overly friendly people from the glances, but none were hostile as I made my way down the rather spacious dirt road towards what I assumed was the Temple of the God Tyr. Wouldn't be going there obviously but it was the clearest landmark to help me find this Alliance Arms place...which sounded familiar for some reason...

I shook that feeling off, while also readjusting the travel pack on my bag once again, and focused on looking around for the both the Inn and potential problems. Like thieves and other such dangers. Because every RPG player seemed convinced of their natural born right to rob everyone not them blind after all, and I'd rather not be robbed thank you very much. Thankfully the town seemed...okay...in that regards as I trudged along the streets as the sun slowly declined in the sky above. About bloody time really, and a testament to the days walking my friendly Boss had made me walk today in full pack...I wasn't exhausted after a life as an orc obviously but damn was I looking forward to a nice bit of grub and a bed...

'Okay. Not exactly a palace but its clean. And also not full of badly dressed murder hobos...well not too many at least' I thought as I stepped through the doorway into a large stone built inn with wood buttresses. It was a large open tavern area it looked like, with rooms upstairs and too the side of 'bar area' as well it looked like as I glanced around in the gloom lit up by the light pouring in from the open shutters in the roof and over windows. A large fireplace stood in the middle of half empty tavern area, but thankfully was unlit thanks to the warm summer day and a pleasant coolness touched my cheeks as I step inside. A cheerful (at last in this miserable seeming town!) looking maid in her late twenties or thirties approached me, broom in hand after being caught sweeping the floor near the main entrance. I smiled as friendly seeming as I could despite missing home and being stuck on this stupid damn mission in this hot weather.

"Ah hello, I'm looking for a room for a few days. Would you by any chance have any available?"

--

[Karguk 13]

Alliance Arms Inn, Port of Llast

'Ah that hits the spot' I hummed to myself as I rested back into the wooden bench I sat on after finishing the, surprisingly nice, dish of fish and local vegetables. It was seemingly true that all that was needed to make one feel a bit better was a shit, a shower and a shave. Though I will admit the shower was a bath and the shave involved being lucky not to kill myself after years of not doing it...thank the Gods for healing spells I'll say. Well beyond the SSS, the going shopping after a goodnight's sleep in the village and as such getting new clothes that weren't tatty, smelly pieces of second hand raider crap was probably a help in improving my rather foul mood of yesterday. That and the booze, that's much better than we brew back in Sparta let me tell you...next on the list before world conquest is finding a competent brewer to expand my list of beers, spirits and such back home!

Now in fairness getting the clothes had been long and boring; oh for the days of mass produced clothing I'll say, because on Faerun its 'quick' tailoring in my case. Now in fairness the tailor was a friendly enough old fellow, and very efficient considering the need to stitch up what I was wearing right now...so I was quite content to leave an order of three more sets of clothes wearable under, over and without my armour and including a coat with lots of pockets. Well lots of pockets in general on the shirts and trousers too...sorry tunic and whatever .because evidently Faerun hasn't really found the joys of clothes with pockets much. Even with the extra cost it was a bargain to get them (well in few days when they were ready) in my view!

"Well you certainly seem to have enjoyed that my good fellow" the middle aged maid...Amafrey I think?...greeted me with a cheerful. I do wonder if it's part of the job or just natural friendliness that got the staff their jobs, as this town is not my dream vacation spot. I think I'd pretty much seen everything I wanted to see today; the tailor, the 'general store' and the grumpy dwarven blacksmith. Hmmmm...though aren't all Dwarves grumpy grudge givers at heart? So maybe he was a friendly dwarf in relative terms...hmmmm...ohhh...yeah smile Karguk...

"Indeed it was, it's a great place here. Good food and drink, lovely barmaids like yourself and comfortable beds to stay. What more could anyone want!...though I would like any another ale to quench the thirst would be appreciated my dear...oh and buy yourself and the other girl a drink as well by the way! After all your hard work you deserve it" I answered in a quiet, but friendly, a tone as could muster while handing over the two gold coins worth double what I just, and the next drink, but I had coin and gems to spare and I'd rather not have people spitting in food or worse. Though I'd tried to be at least a little quiet about having money and coming off as just another decent enough traveler with the locals but not a rich one. I'd rather not be robbed after all so I was trying to be polite and friendly and totally not orcish! No siree I'm just a friendly human not-bard who got lost after a magic accident! THAT WAS ALL, NOTHING ELSE!

'By Ilneval she actually giggled softly at me and winked! Hmmm...too much?...ah well at least there won't be anything other than ale in the flagon' I mused as the woman cheerfully sashayed off to the bar and a few minutes later was whispering something to her younger...teenaged? twenty-something?...compatriot as they retrieved a drink for me. They were at least more cheerful than the again half empty tavern area around me where a few bored looking murder-hobos, stuck merchants, and a handful of locals drank and talked about their current woes; I guess is where one overhears rumours and what not?

'Though the declining price of fish, the rising one of turnips, and the delays on the roads and shipping hardly seems as relevant as the notices for 'brave adventurers' to come forward for work or Guardsman Bran's warning yesterday. Though that's sorta my fault isn't it?...or was there a war in canon I don't remember it?...who knows, whatever the case...fuck Luskan I say! Go Neverwinter!...at least once I get beyond the city of demon loving bastards" I thought leaning back into the bench of the small 'booth' and surveying the 'bar' area, and the now lit fireplace. Day's maybe warm here, but damn if having a town by the seaside didn't make the place bitter cold at night...idly wondered how Oggy, Zah, Missy and all the others were doing. I snorted softly, only two days gone and I was feeling homesick. Damn and I'd a season or two to go at this rate.

"Thank you kindly Amafrey, you're a life saver" I thanked the bar maid over the general 'murmur-murmur' of the bar when she returned with a flagon full of their locally brewed ale. Then again all ale in this world was locally brewed I suppose...still it was quite nice and had a decent enough strength for this world, even if nothing much approaching the homebrew farmers in my past life used to come up with. I would introduce Poitin to this world someday!

"Glad to serve milord, please enjoy your ale and signal me if you require anything" she told me with another of those friendly smiles before trotting off again, this time to serve another rather drunken customer. Which was fine by me as I pulled my new purchase out of my side back and placed it on the table before the small lantern in the middle of said table; Volo's Guide to All Things Magical. Quite a find in a shitty little village like this, even if it was a very battered and tattered looking copy of the tome. Soon I would amass a vast library's worth of books on this journey for my tower back home! Soon all the knowledge and shinies will be mine, ALL MINE! MUWAHAHAHAHA!

'Oh look its Big E's usual piece. Gods he's got his hands in everything doesn't he? Where does he find the time I wonder with Mystra always unto him with her old man fetish?' I mused idly taking a gulp of the nicely refreshing, and slightly Briney? Spicy?...ale, though evidently someone was using a chill spell of some sort to keep it cold. Not that I'd complain of course as I liked a cold rather than lukewarm beer 'Oh the Magefairs...hmm hopefully he's at one now. I'd rather not have that walking WMD run across my travels like in Baldurs Gate...I'd love to go to one of those Magefairs though...sigh...a shame I'm an orc in disguise. Walking amongst a horde of wizards probably wouldn't be ideal for keeping that disguise in place'

My other purchase in the bag was an empty tome that was going to serve as my adventure journal/expense ledger/general-notebook/scribble pad, and of course this handy-dandy re-seal-able ink well and quill for writing said notes into my new book. Not bringing my diary made me slightly sad, but still it'd be really fucking stupid of me to nearly lose it out here instead of having it locked up securely behind wards at home. So Mr. Journal and odd scribly notes would have to suffice for now, and serve as a backup spell-book if need be...hehehe, oh but am I going to buy scrolls and other magical tools when we hit proper sized settlements! Oh yes Karguk is baby!

'Looks like it'll be a decent read at least' I thought as I skimmed the first few pages. I missed books, especially books that weren't the restricted set available at home. At least the writing looked pretty clear and my Common was excellent at this stage thanks to Missy's help; combined with my old nature as a speed reader I doubt it'd take long to get through this thick looking tome. It was one advantage my past life as a bibliophile had seemingly given me over the locals –I could demolish a book in a fraction of the time Missy seemed to take, and evidently see was a quick study. If only I had an eidetic memory to go with that and didn't have bounce back to it every time I had to reference something...oh well, beggars can't be choosers I suppose now can we?

"Ehmm...hmmmm...hmmmmm...hmmmm" I hummed quietly to myself taking my mind off missing Oggy and little Kargash, and all the others as I concentrated on the book before me. It was a real shame the Inn wasn't filled with some sort of songs or musical talent to lift the mood somewhat, if things went the same as before I dozed off yesterday then the best I'd get to hear was some drunken signing by the various drunken clientele staying in the place, or from the locals themselves. Neither of which had been very good last night...I assume there were no Bards staying in the town at the moment. Still the general murmuring of the 'bar' and the banging of the flagons and plates were the general hum around here and...I blinked and glanced up having realised the place had gone surprisingly quiet...

A pair of guests had come down from upstairs and the variety of people present here were either glaring at them, or studiously trying to ignore them...well except the barmaids who seemed to focus on their bar duties. Glancing around the room curiously and then back towards the stairs I guessed at why this level of unfriendliness was being leveled at the two...well at the dark skinned non-human one rather than both of them. Despite being relatively well covered in a respectable looking dress, the dark skin and silver hair really gave away the fact one of the two was a Drow female. The other was...either a very pretty man or a woman with very small boobs, I was leaning mentally towards woman thanks to the colourful...beret? hat?...on her head. But then again this was Faerun so who knows what crazy people are running around, and certainly would qualify as possibly crazy or possibly evil to be running around with a Drow...possible priestess. That and brave as she glared back defiantly at the room and seemingly searching for something...

'OH NO...Not over here! Shoo, Shoo! Let me drink my ale and read my book in peace! Is that too much to ask?' popped into my mind as I realised that all the tables had at least one or two people sitting at them, and these two had evidently been here a few days based on what I'd heard. And evidently not welcome to sit with anyone thanks to silver haired lady's presence...the friendly barmaids had told me the 'scandalous' news shortly after I arrived after all. Sadly for me though the blonde haired human girl scanning the room for a free table...saw what I'd seen, looked disappointed a moment...then saw me not glaring hatefully at them...and realised I evidently wasn't someone who'd told them to fuck off in the past few days. With a frown on her face, she reached back, grabbed the Drows arm, before striding purposely towards my table...

"Is there any sitting here Milord? Or do you have any objection to our sitting here?" came the half-snarled, half-begged question from that pretty face as they stopped right in front of me. It would be sooooo easy to tell them just to fuck off. Hell the rest of the tavern would probably cheer me on for being an asshole to them. And this was a Drow, so more than likely evil...and fucked up stupid evil at that. Plus wasn't it unfair her kind could prance around here (albeit hated) while I'd have likely been lynched as a greenskin by this lot if I'd been in my true form. I sighed, rested back in my chair...

"Ahhh...its fine, sit away" I sigh, grumbled, hummed, out in a quiet tone as the room stared at me a moment before beginning to slowly started to talk again. Likely complaining or gossiping about me and the evil minions of the dread spider bitch...this was going to be miserable night it seemed. It was like being back in college and being the most non-threatening person sitting in the canteen and random people coming over to talk when they were feeling lost or lonely. Also it appeared the blonde girl might be...a half-elf?...as I caught a hint of triangle-ly ears as hair shift while she sat down. Could half-drow be pale skinned?

"Thank you. Your kindness is appreciated milord..." the Drow said to me in a low, but polite, tone as she sat across from me and was glancing at my reading selection laid out before me. A reading list it appeared I wasn't going to get through much tonight "...others have been...less friendly towards my kind"

I sighed again feeling uncomfortable "Yeahhhh...I can get that. Sorry to ask, and I generally don't ask because its rude...but you're a spider worshiper by any chance?..." I held up my hands in a sign of 'no weapons or threats. Sorry!' but pressing on as the blonde woman hissed at me and glared. The Drow to my surprise never moved and merely listened hands resting on the table and head down"...cuz I'd rather not the trouble, and if you are then we can just all sit here quietly and not stepping over each other's toes by saying unneeded things"

"How dare..."

"Tris its fine, it's not mean as an insult..." the Drow stated softly one hand reaching over and resting on the other girls arm causing her to ease off on the killing intent "...though its...rare...to meet surface dwellers who have...knowledge of my people. And no...I do not serve that foul creature. I serve a far fairer and wiser Goddess, The Lady of the Dance or the Dark Maiden some call her, though you like not have heard of her here on the surface I fear. So you do not have to fear me surface dweller...I swear on the Goddess that neither myself or Tris mean you any harm and thank you for your kindness"

I blinked deciding to test that little admission in my confusion "Errr...okay then...and I suppose your right that Eilistaee is a better choice than the maniacal spider goddess...but then again who am I to judge. What brings you up to the surface? Because ya know...people don't like your lot much and...Oh sorry...yes I'm Karg of the Crags by the way, nice to meet you?" I finished trying to sound friendly. At least the reaction from the Drow was relief and not anger so hopefully it all wasn't just an act. And crap did I just say too much. Fuck it, worry later. Oh where had my nice relaxing evening gone?

"I am Lua'kah'wyss, Karg of the Crags. A Priestess of Eilistraee, and this is my traveling companion Loraatris Hollysword, a Bard of Waterdeep. We have been delayed here several days like yourself I fear, though it is...a welcome change to meet a friendly face for once and not another angry one..."

--

[Karguk 14]

Port Llast

'Quest markers; where art thou oh when I need you?' I mused as I followed along behind my two new, and needed, traveling companions as we trudged through the fields an hour or so east of the port town.

Mostly in my case because it either this or stay cooped up in the unfriendly port village, or more-so the friendly enough Inn, spending my coin. Considering my only conversations were with the tavern staff, shopkeepers and the two near me, really all I'd be doing was sitting around spending coin till the harbour finally reopened, or the guard reopened the High Road. Because of course travelers had been disappearing before my arrival, there was the whole threat of war, and now we were going to a farmstead because they were days overdue for markets or something. And like lemmings my two new companions had volunteered to help the guard out. Though not that I minded too much in truth, it'd be quite boring otherwise without someone to talk too...and stepping outside had seem some stupid idiot try to mug me two days ago! Stupid bloody town, still the broken nose seemed to discourage further attempts from scummy looking dudes and gals. Or beggars, damn if this world isn't filled with beggars and homeless children...hell I found it pretty depressing to see how close to orc level the 'civilized' lands are at for the bottom levels of society.

"We're not far from Old Stor's farmstead, so everyone keep your eyes and ears open..." Guardsman Bran said in a bored tone from up ahead of me. I liked him, seemed a decent enough sort all in all, and he wasn't overly enthused with this little expedition as best I could tell. Then again being stuck with a bunch of hired swords for the day, while walking for miles in the sun, on what he figured was a wild goose-chase probably wouldn't be my be my favorite plan as town guard either "...the old bastard and his family are likely been ornery is all. So when ye see them be polite or ye won't be getting paid"

'Sounds reasonable to me' I figured with a slight shrug of my shoulders, while before the half-elf bard nodded to herself while the Drow, Lua'kua'wyss, merely tugged a little at the hood over her head. Partially I expect from the sun (that nasty, nasty summer sunshine) above beaming down on us, but probably also to conceal her...disliked...species profile. Or maybe it was to ignore the occasional glares from the four other 'adventurers' who'd joined up for today's paid excursion. Not overly friendly sorts to her (or me and the Bard by default) but they seemed competent enough despite the rather cheap looking, albeit well maintained, armour and weapons they were kitted out in. All I can say is I was glad of the extra swords on the off chance there was an issue beyond a sick or tardy farmer.

'Though I am breaking my own rules on kit so I really shouldn't judge' I reminded myself as Loraatris the Bard whispered something to the Drow and got a nod in return. Still hadn't got the back-story of either, but then again both were equally curious of my own knowledge of things I probably shouldn't like Ms. Drows Goddess for instance, so I figured they'd tell me in time why they wanted to head North to the Spine. Still at least they were both decently equipped; the Bard clad in padded chain-mail, while carrying a light crossbow slung over her back, and a rapier at her belt. The Drow surprising me for the usual clichés by wearing a half-plate armour under that dark blue hooded cloak of hers, a circular shield over her back and a mace secured at her side. Covered up as she was you wouldn't even know she was a drow...though she was probably quite warm under all that after this walk because I certainly wanted to complain about it.

I'd opted for my chainmail over a light cotton shirt and my brand new pocketed trousers, then added my (also brand new) large pocketed overcoat over said armour so I could have various items stored there and not just in the pack on my back. Right now it was causing me an extra level of sweat and tiredness thanks to warm summer's day; though the broad brimmed hat helped somewhat I'll admit, but I'd rather the protection even if I was actively trying for the 'look I'm totally not an orc warrior in disguise but a wannabe wizard or rogue!' even if the sword slung over my shoulder took from that effort. Protection and encumbrance sadly were very much at war within my head I found; I'd been forced to leave (like the others) a portion of my gear in a lockbox back in the Inn's locked storeroom to not be overburdened. I didn't like sharing with my two new...companions...but still the Innkeeper, and both ladies, had been fine with me warding my our shared lockbox so it wasn't all bad. I just prayed to the Boss it'd all be there when I got back to town. Oh for the days of banks, or more recently where no one in the clan would dare fuck with my shaman stuff. Sigh. I missed home.

'Hmmm well at least we're here. Oh please just let it be nothing, or just some beginner level quest. These are newbie adventurers after all. Hell I'm a newbie adventurer in the identify I'm faking!' I hummed to myself as we came across a worn dirt path between small fields of wheat divided by a stone fence. Off a few hundred metres away a well built stone farm building with wooden roof came into view; everything seemed pretty normal to me from here, even if nobody was in view and everything seemed quiet beyond birds chirping in the trees around us and the soft sway of the wheat in the summer breeze.

'Ahhh...that's nice' popped into my mind as the breeze caressed my face and relieved the summer's heat somewhat as our merry band marched up the dusty dirt track as one of the other murder-hobos muttered to his comrade, a pretty enough half-elf woman in her twenties, that it was about time they'd reached this place. Hadn't really talked to the two, but they seemed to be from farther south, maybe Amn or beyond judging by the accents and seemed to be just traveling as hired blades along the roads. And with roads closed they were doing like us and coming out to either get them reopened, maybe just earn some extra coin or maybe just from boredom from the unfriendly village. They did seem to have been there a few weeks already before my arrival a few days ago.

"STOR? YOU ABOUT? MAGYA? ANYONE HOME?" our troop leader the Guardsman called out as we approached a wooden gate on the path to allow us through the low stone fence that surrounded the empty farmyard. Two wooden barns lay on either side of the house itself, though the doors were closed and no sound came from them or from the house in reply to the shouts of greeting of Guardsman Bran, who was muttering in annoyance at the lack of response it seemed. I glanced around, there was no sign of fighting, damage or blood, but the place seemed weirdly quiet for any farmyard I'd ever been on in my past life or in our newly conquered villages.

"Anyone else think this place is really quiet for a farm?" I asked to those around me, but really to no-one in particular as I continued to looking around as we milled about in the middle of the yard. It was a sizeable little place, and relatively defensible for what I'd seen of an isolated farmstead. Size wise and crudely fortified as it was I guessed it was a decent sized extended family that lived here; off in the corner of the yard a large wagon rested beside a cart or buggy of some sort, so they probably had horses or similar. From the looks of it they must be relatively well off to afford the place, which probably why the local militia were bothered paying to see if they were okay. One law for the rich and one for the poor it seemed. I pointed at wagon and cart "...do they have a dog, or maybe horses? I don't hear any"

"Yeah I'd noticed that too, maybe they're gone to Neverwinter with the troubles? Be sensible of them after all this far out from the town" the brunette mercenary chipped in nodding at me a moment, before folding her arms across her chest and looking around the yard as the guardsman looked undecided to me at least on that opinion. I shrugged and looked at my two 'party members', the Bard girl shrugging back in reply while the look on the Drow's face beneath the hood seemed one of genuine curiosity. We were all on guard to some degree, at least I was and the others seemed to be, but the empty and quiet farmyard beneath a clear bright blue sky wasn't really the same as the danger that was under my stronghold, or facing down hostile clans. After all there was no sign of raiders or their aftermath; I should know after all having grown up among them, or fighting against other raiding clans of orcs, goblins and what-not. There were always signs even with organised bands like my own was. Even if we didn't raid many farmsteads like this out in the savage frontier; really somewhere like this depended on an organised force to respond to a siege.

'Or be bothered investigating a delay in showing up of course' I reminded myself. Place was solidly built and would hold off any raiding band, but wouldn't resist a larger band or a siege of any sort. Still it showed at least not everyone was an idiot peasant like the games in my previous existence indicated.

"Doors unlocked and open a bit, barns don't look to be barred either" one of the other 'adventurers', late twenties from the looks of it and dressed in some sort of padded leather armour, said after a moment or two jerking his spear at one area, then another.

"Hmmmm...then we'll look inside. Or more accurate myself and...you Hengheim..." Bran the guard stated after moments thought and motioned at one of the other humans, a burly enough fellow in helmet and splint armour "...as Stor is a friend of the First Captain and if anything goes missing if he's away, then it'll be me hide alongside yer heads"

I shrugged again even if the others looked annoyed or offended at the implication of the words. In fairness murder-hobos would rob...sorry loot...a place like this blind as part of their 'quest' so I could get the general suspiciousness of a militia guard...or basically anyone in this world. In the adventurers were anything from noble hearted heroes, to homicidal, grave-robbing sociopaths convinced of their own self-righteousness while stealing a family's coin from the nightstand as a 'reward' after all. Missy was a fine decent woman with a good heart; and she had attacked me and mine without any hesitation. This world made us all monsters unfortunately I found. Still I opened my mouth on the off chance there was trouble.

"Can I suggest we at least stand guard then out here, or check the barns while you explore the house? Just in case there was any trouble and we can handle it if the need arises"

"Yeah I agree with Karg here..." my bardic companion agreed in a cheerful tone as she pulled her crossbow off her back and rested it back against her shoulder having yet to draw the string yet or place a bolt in it "...never know if bandits or goblins are hiding from us in the house"

'Which wouldn't be unexpected from my bastard DM for a newbie party I got attached too' I joked to myself as the others either shrugged or nodded in agreement. It was a silly thought but without laughing at absurdity of the world I'd be crushed into despair – you either laughed or you cried really in Faerun when you understood it on any level.

"Sounds agreeable to me, you two check the barn over there..." Bran the guard muttered pointing at the southern murder-hobos "...the rest of you...archers stand ready if we need you, same with you mage. Drow...just stay there. Now let's get this done so we can get back to and tell the Sarge Stor and his family went off wherever. Hopefully he left a note this time..."

"Just ignore him, hopefully it'll be all in and out here anyway. You're our healer so you're the most valuable to us right now" I hummed softly to the Drow standing beside me. Never hurt to be nice to her after all. She nodded faintly to me but said nothing, pulling out her mace as the guard and the other fighter strolled over towards the doorway of the stone house. Sadly there was no windows, well on the walls beyond one or two shuttered ones or another few also shuttered up on the wooden roof. Still leaving the door unlocked sort of ruined the defensiveness of the whole structure of course, as Bran the guard carefully opened the door , having drawn his short sword in readiness rather than the longer bastard sword on his back like mine. I guessed due to restricted space inside the house itself as they disappeared from view...

...turning my eyes and shifting my weight, I watched as the other two murder-hobos approached the barn doors to our right; one with armed with a spear and the other with shield and scimitar. The approach was careful and profession, which I always liked, before the woman with blade edged closer shield at the ready and started to shove the door open a fraction to stare into the darkness...

"Hhhssssaaaggghhhhhhh" sound echoed out of that darkness, followed suddenly by something smashing into the female shield bearer with a loud impact...followed almost immediately by a howl of agony from the woman at the blow. The creature that had knocked her back was...had been...a teenager I guessed, though if a male or female was hard to tell from the pale corpse white skin, jagged claws and sunken eyes that shied away from the bright sun above. Hissing again loudly, though seemingly at the sunlight rather than the stabbing of the spear from the woman's comrade that it batted away with shocking ease..

...even as the archer loosed an arrow into the things flesh, another came into view at the rear of the barn's darkness, come out from behind a horse's stall. It's smaller frame my momentarily gibbering mind indicating that this was most likely an older child of this family...as like the larger one now shrugging off the arrow to the head the clothing was filthy but new and of good quality still. I reached for my blade, drawing it swiftly in one hand and getting into defensive stance even as the bard fired her crossbow at the nearest of the...undead...and it was then of course that the sounds of a sudden agonised scream echoed out of the farmhouse followed by the sound of things been loudly broken. My currently studied spells were Grease and Sleep, neither of which be of much use right now...and going 'hey I'm a cleric' would be equally suicidal at this stage. And likely not much help either considering...all I could trust in this was the blade in my hand for this...

'This is no Gods-damned challenge rating to throw at this sort of party' I raged mentally grabbing a brand new throwing knife from my recently purchased bracer and throwing at the nearest creature as the shield woman pushed herself back up and made to retreat a step with her spear stabbing comrade. To my horror the creature seemed unfazed by all our attacks, which raised worryingly concerns even as I found the drow cleric pulling up alongside me shield braced and mace at the ready as behind us Tris the Bard was panickingly redrawing her crossbow...

It appeared we were, to put it mildly, screwed as the shock held the terror away from me a little while and I desperately called up my righteous anger at these things. Because these looked like Wights my horrified brain was telling me...and this group and me was not likely to take'em being my big fear right now...

--

[Karguk 15]

Amidst a copse of tree

"Hah...Hah...Hah...Hah..." I panted out in desperate exhaustion as I dropped to one knee. Now that I was beneath some degree of cover under these trees it was time to handle the heavy bundle slung over my left shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A moment later and the chainmail clad form of the half-elf bard was laid out before, face pale and still out cold...but at least she was breathing steady and better than I'd feared might have been the case as I checked for a pulse with my free hand. Hated to admit it to anyone but I nearly groaned in relief at the loss of the added weight, especially after my short desperate run to get to this point from the farmhouse of horrors behind us; this had not been a good day to say the least. Glancing behind at the sound of bushes and branches been moved a hundred odd metres off to my side...only relaxing my grip on my blade and turning back to my 'patient' as the miserable looking drow staggered towards us, before resting against a tree gasping for breath. Running in half-plate tended to have that sort of impact I found as I leaned in over the bard girl, Tris.

'Okay breathings...okay eyes...okay I guess..." I muttered pulling open her eyes with my fingers and found that thankfully they weren't rolled up in her head, or anything beyond only faintest response to the light. Energy drain or whatever the undead vermin used was a problem we'd found during our battle with Baron Crazy-pants and had laid low strong warriors for a day, or even a few days even with healing. Thankfully it wasn't fatal at this level as I pried open the girls mouth, forcing in one of my healing potions and then getting her unconscious form to swallow. Her body jerked a moment, emitting a whimper as she tensed...then seemed to relax and her breathing became a little easier; sadly though she didn't wake up.

"Tris...is she..." came to in an exhausted tone from the drow, followed by a moment later a little more authoritative tone "...Let me heal her, I can..."

Leaning on my sword, the blade of which was now digging into the mossy ground beneath it about a quarter of the way, I took a deep breath before shaking my head and responding in what I hoped was a calm tone "She's fine I've given her a healing draught, but she's still out cold. Probably exhaustion and the after effects of that thing grabbing her...she just needs rest I think...though..." I motioned around; this was hardly the place for resting now was it, then listening for noises from the way we came "...we need to move soon...where's the other fella gone?"

"He was...just behind me..." the Drow started to say looking back the way we'd came before a calm, albeit hoarse, voice came towards us along with bushes being moved "Here, I'm here...hah...was making sure nothing was following us. We should...hah...rest here a few moments though, this all a damned mess...she dead?" he finished nodding at the unconscious girl in front of me. I shook my head in the negative. Thank the Gods for small mercies I suppose.

"No, just out cold...heeeh hahhh...your right, we should rest a moment...fuck that was a gods-damned disaster..." I managed to groan out taking the short opportunity to sit and rest back against the tree just behind me. It suddenly felt as if I wanted to fall asleep on the spot, but I merely sighed still clutching my blade ready in one hand "...seriously that farm...what kind of evil bastard fucking zombiefies chickens?"

Because that encounter had been so far above the party's level that it hadn't been remotely fair; in the end a tactical retreat had been the only valid option once the extent of the problem became obvious. Someone (some crazy bastard!) had raised the whole damned farm, former inhabitants and animals alike, into some form of the undead from zombies to what I guessed as wights...especially when former guardsman Bran and the other dude came stumbling out of the house even as we pushed the barn doors closed. Half the exploration party had been killed off in so many minutes by that stage...in exchange for the two things that had come charging out of said barn at us, and a zombie dog I guess. By now other dead adventurers were likely shambling around that yard with the rest of the farmhouse of horrors. I shivered. How easily that could have been me there with them.

"It was a trap fer us I'd guess..." the other survivor from the band that had set out from the port a few hours muttered also taking a breather, eyes though darting around like my own for any danger returning. Our drow companion unfortunately was less use, evidently used to this sort of terrain and was also now kneeling across from me and fidgeting at her unconscious friend form. Evidently she'd lost her cloak and shield I noticed, just as the bard's crossbow and some gear had been left behind in our...tactical retreat "...well not us especially I reckon, but for whoever the guard sent out to check it out. We were lucky to make it out; or even that me or you had weapons that could harm them" the man stated motioning to the sword in his hand. A silvered longsword, which had been the only weapon other than my blade capable of harming the 'human' creatures in the farm – only the 'farm animals' had been simple zombies. Fuck even setting the place on fire, under bright sunlight, had only served to slowthe wights even as it destroyed the weaker unholy abominations. Because seriously...undead fucking chickens?????

I rubbed at my eyes, annoyed at the absence of my hat - evidently it'd blown off during the fight or possibly our high speed advance to the rear. Gods I was tired "I...yeah. Guardsman Bran said that the old dude who lived there was an important person in the town, or at least friends with his bosses. So someone put effort into necroing that place and then takes out whoever comes to check up on the place. The question then is...why go to the effort...and where is the necromancer or cleric who did this?"

Because this took effort and while Evil for the evulz was possible in this crap-sack world the fact was this little side show would have taken some decent magical ability and reagents and components to match. Either that or someone had a sick, twisted, fascination with undead farm animals. Because chickens? Whhhyyyy?

"We need to get back to the town..." the drow stated slowly and in a low tone as she moved her unconscious friend into what was probably more comfortable position after checking to see if she was okay. I resisted to urge to say something. Hey I was a decent enough clan shaman and general cleric even if healing wasn't exactly my area of expertise. Instead started to clean off my blade and check I hadn't lost anything in the mad dash here as I replied.

"Oh don't worry, I agree with you. We need to tell someone in authority that we know what's probably causing the travel problems on the roads...actually first though..." I stopped glancing at the other merc "...I didn't get your name. I'm Karg, Lorekeeper of sorts, that's Lua..." as the Drow interrupted "...Lua'kah'wyss, this is my friend and travelling companion Tris"

"Eltin Steelsong, bounty hunter, caravan guard and whatever other job you need at your service..." the man replied with a slight 'bow' of sorts to us. Well he could fight so I wouldn't hold his thief-lite nature against him...pretty sure Bounty Hunters counted under the Thief/Rogue heading around now. At least he'd managed to keep his bow and blade during the fleeing and farm burning so at least we still had someone with a missile weapon after losing the other murder-hobos and the bard's crossbow. My throwing knifes didn't really could with my current...skill levels...with the things "...pleasure to meet you fine folks despite the circumstances!"

"You did not seem as...eager to talk earlier" the drow Lua'kah'wyss half-stated, half whispered with a tired expression on her face. I could understand, our little expedition had not involved alot of conversation with her by anyone...or often acknowledgement of her existance at best, or hateful glares at worst. Mr. Bounty Hunter merely smiled cheerfully, albeit looking just as tired and concerned as I did, in response to criticism from the usually quiet silver haired elf.

"Ah but that was before we forged a bond in battle!...and ye saved my life ah course; that of course tends to change ones initial opinions I find...sigh...though explainin our burning Mr. Rich Farmers house down is gonna go down so well I expect. Assuming no one comes to investigate the smoke..."

"Then their dead if those things break down our barricade at the little gate, or they can climb that wall..." I stated honestly. It was one thing being the brave hero in a game, but one had to practical when in the real world. I'd used my Grease spell, and one flask of fire oil to set the barn of undead animals a flame before we got, but the farmhouse itself and the surrounding wall was solid stone. The barn would have burned down but I very much doubt it would do more singe the walls "...all we can do is get back to Post Llast and actually warn them. Comeback with a party armed for zombie and clear the place out. Or something like that, because we aren't strong enough to clear out the place"

'Because that fella's extended family would swarm us and none of ye have the levels for this sort of fight. Hell I don't have the levels for this sort of fight!' went unsaid by myself as the other two nodded, before the bounty-hunter sighed looking at me and the drow woman kneeling across from me "Problem there is...we went east instead of west, so to get back we need to pass by the farmstead again or bypass it...probably south and follow the road back in"

I sighed glancing at my silvered haired companion who merely nodded, then motioned silently at her friend but letting me take the lead. Since had I been put in charge of this cluster-fuck? "Yeah, sooner we get back the better. Both to warn the militia...and the fact I don't want to be out here after night falls if those things get free, or if there are more of them. Road near town is our best bet to be safe enough, or at least might be patrolled. And we'll need to carry Tris here as we move, can I suggest we take turns till she wakes up or we hit Port Llast. Two carry one out front?"

With agreement to that little fact I found that our little group fell into silence. I assume as depressed as I was feeling as the realisation of our failure for the day sunk in. Once again the world had shown itself to be quite happy to show its true nasty colours after all. So we sat in silence, listening and watching for danger as tried to recover a modicum of energy for the journey back. Fighting was tiring after all, though thanks to my orcish constitution hidden under the spell I recovered far, far, far, quicker than I would have as a human in my past life, or maybe now, and after a few minutes I stood up and re-sheathed my sword into the scabbard over my shoulder before giving a quick stretch as the others stood up a moment later.

Muscles were still aching, but delaying here wasn't doing us any good now that we'd caught our breath and day was slowly passing us by and that wasn't exactly going to help us, or any poor soul approaching that farm. So we trudged along in silent misery, myself and the drow carrying the bard for a while before she switched with the bounty hunter and the road to the town came into view past the scattered trees and fields of long wild grass. A welcome relief in fact as carrying the unconscious girl between us wasn't as easy as it seemed; while 'Tris' herself was quite lithe the fact was her gear was an added encumbrance and slowed us down dramatically as we had to essentially carry her over various obstacles in our path.

'Well we're making a bit better time now we're on the road...just an hour or two more hopefully. Or less if Ilneval is feeling merciful' I thought shading my eyes with a hand as I looked forward on the road about an hour later after we'd tramped through the undergrowth to get to this point. Heroic quests often failed to mention the dangers of getting lost in areas you didn't know too well without a local guide as we'd had on the way. Suddenly an hour's journey doubled or trebled in time for our tired return leg. Nothing but the summer's breeze moving the wild grass or sparse trees could be seen by me or the others on either side of the road though off in the distance...

"Hold up...someone's coming up the road..." I stated holding up a hand and looking around for soon sort of shelter. The best cover I could see was some large boulders near an oak tree about a hundred metres to our right "...two of you take...Tris...under cover over there and then come back here and we'll see who this is. Hopefully these are just traders or something and we can warn them of the danger and head back into town"

'No arguments, good to see' I mused idly wiping off the sweat from my brow with a sleeve of my coat while they did as I'd suggested and hide the unconscious bard three or four dozen metres away. At least if there was a problem we wouldn't have to defend the currently helpless member of our party. And it wasn't like we could all hide, the small group trudging slowly towards us most likely had seen us by now; hiding wasn't really an option for us a whole right now. Oh I badly needed some scouts; even scouts like those idiots Genghur or Lepgrak back home in Sparta.

"Their walking pretty strange..." the bounty hunter fella announced to me when they returned and the distance between us and the new group, of five or six, had begun to shrink. I frowned shielding my eyes from the still bright sun in the sky, even if it was descending it was giving off an annoying glare that made making out things awkward to my poly-morphed/altered orcish eyes...yes they were walking strange, almost like...

'Ah...bollocks...their shambling..joy just fucking joy' my tired brain told me as the distance continued to close between us, yet none of the approaching individuals giving any sign of greeting to us beyond staggering forward. Their odd gait though told me what they were even before the stench of shit reached my nostrils on the summers breeze.

"It's dawn of the fuckin' dead today...ahhh Lord this is unfair..." I muttered after a moment before drawing my blade, an action matched by the two 'adventurers' that were flanking me on either side. Still these appeared to be five 'low level' undead, no running or suckhlike with those ghasts or wights...just shambling forward in their recently bloody clothes I guessed. It seemed traveling on the road might be a bad idea "...Eltin I'd suggest using your bow before they close with us, see what happens. Try and knock them down or shatter legs when they get into hand to hand. Their slow so don't let them surround us"

"Don't need to tell me Boss" came the reply as an arrow sailed past me to my right, to slam into the nearest of the creatures with solid thunk, hitting the leg and staggering the zombie and causing it to fall over. I readied my sword with my tired arms...today was not my day it seemed...could walk a mile without tripping over a damned zombie..

--