In My Time of Troubles

by Crossposted

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

18. Entry 18

[Ogrash 09]

Courtyard, Stronghold of Sparta

The night was chilly she found as snow fluttered down softly from a part-cloudy, part-clear, night sky above. Around her moonlight faintly illuminated the courtyard amongst all the ritual rune-work. Up upon the walls and all around them in the courtyard itself stood the majority of the clan and their allied delegations, though for the moment all were silent in anticipation of the ceremony and feasting to follow. After all while the clan itself had only mere years ago had felt the touch of the Gods it was very rare to have the entire pantheon represented here this night and for to call for the might in such a way.

Karg was on the edge as always she noted as she saw her mate striding back and forth between his acolytes and checking everyone was ready and there were no troubles to be solved at this late stage. Of course Karg was always on edge when on the verge of talking to the Horde Leader in ceremonies, she couldn't help but snort in amusement at that; her mate was far too serious at times and saw too little of the glorious honour it was to be blessed by the Gods. Why she had felt the power and awe inducing fear of the Cave Goddess herself and prayed she would be blessed again this night; now came the creation of this pact to defeat their foes and conquer in the name of the Gods.

She glanced over to her right at the old and powerful shaman of Gruumsh who stood between herself and Karg; a statement of itself of the hierarchy of the clerics within this forming new Horde. Herself as a follower of Luthic to Gruumsh's left, and then a shaman of the Ilneval to his right, with both of the same clan showed an acknowledgement of their clan's power with magic and favour with the Gods. Traditionally a shaman of Baghtu would be marked as the 'Right Hand' of the One Eye's in these rituals, or within a Horde as an enforcer of sorts...though of course her's and Karg's acolytes vastly outnumbered those of the other clans so reality was being reflected here she felt.

So to her left stood the young Baghtu shaman, big and burly and carrying a ceremonial war-club; from the Rocksmasher clan, one of the Moonblades 'allied' clans in the nature of preserving the two-two-two balance between the three main clans of the Horde. Herself and Karg for Luthic and Ilneval, the Night-tombs with Gruumsh and Shargaas, while the Moonblades were 'allied' clans for Yurtrus White-hands and Baghtru; though she didn't rate the last two as particular powerful or skilled. She hummed quietly in thought as she looked around the packed walls and courtyard at the edges of the ritual, with clan banners hanging from the walls behind or above them. Far too few compared to that of Warlord Wyrmog, but enough Karg and the others believed, and with the blessing of the Gods they would victorious over the heretic traitors.

'Though dealing with the Old One could be just as dangerous in the long run as fighting that Half-Giant' she mused coldly as the Shaman of the Night-tombs stood waiting upon the ceremony to begin. Phargk of the Night-tombs was old and powerful, and spoken of having lead in a Horde that had flowed down from the Spine decades ago for much loot and glory before his clan had moved into the Underdark to raid. Karg was wary of him it was very clear to her, as he should of course with one of power outside the clan. Still as was proper that power had to be acknowledged and learned from; Karg, she and Zah had done everything possible to elevate the strength of Sparta within the alliance after the proof of their power in bloodying Wyrmog first and the butchering the foolish human raiders.

Dead raiders whose armour and weapons along with torn and bloody banner, lay piled around the ceremonial fire at the centre of the courtyard. Further smaller piles portions were around the smaller behind her and the other behind Karg as offerings to their patron Gods; after all they were the offerings of Sparta clan – the other clans had to have their own offerings earned in blood in her view as well as the Gods. One of Karg's better trained, and more importantly loyal, acolytes strode over to the old Night-tombs lord, got a nod and some retort before he walked over to herself and bowed.

"Priestess Ogrash, Shaman Karguk has readied his preparations and Shaman Phargk orders me confirm all is in readiness"

She nodded back to him "Yes Halnguk we are, just check with those..." she nodded towards the shamans from the other clans slightly "...others and be sure and tell Karg, and Shaman Phargk, that we can begin"

"As you order Priestess" he bowed again and headed over to the Shaman of Baghtu. She simply tapped her staff of office unto the stone cobbles of the courtyard and turned towards her own gaggle of fellow servants of Luthic and gestured to make ready.

At this stage there wasn't any words needed as she beaten the planned ritual into them these past ten-days and any who would embarrass the clan, and her as importantly, were watching rather than serving this night. The golden haired god-slave stood silently, masked head bowed, in her boots and cloak as she awaited the signal to begin her service just like her fellows with each of the other Shamans. While they were hardly sufficient for the task in terms of looks the Six had been placed as a 'power boost' as Karg called i for each of the God's of the pantheon. Allocating them based on traits had been difficult, but Ogrash had taken the most fertile seeming, and well endowed (which wasn't much), of the Six for the Cave Mother with the others doing similar.

In the end Karg had taken the Silver-hair for the ritual, the old one the flame haired human with the fourth human with the golden mane to Baghtru, while the two elves had been given between the Night-lord and the White-hands follower. It was further proof of the contributions and blessings offered by Sparta Clan to the alliance and raising their prestige with their new horde. Something that was about to begin as the old shaman carrying his magical spear strode forward a step and banged the butt of said spear loudly off the stones of the courtyard.

"LOYAL FIGHTING WARRIORS OF THE CLANS! BRAVE AND STRONG CHIEFTAINS! POWERFUL AND DEVOUT SHAMANS! STRONG AND FERTILE FEMALES! THAT IS WHAT THE GODS ASK OF US! TO BE STRONG AND FLORISH! TO CRUSH OUR FOES AND DRIVE THEM BEFORE US! AND THAT WE SHALL DO BY UNITING OUR STRENGHT AS ONE SPEAR! A NEW UNBREAKABLE WEAPON OF THE GODS THAT SHALL SLAUGHTER THE APOSTATE AND HIS FOLLOWERS! DEATH TO HIM AND HIS IN THE NAME OF THE ONE EYE!"

"DEATH! DEATH! DEATH! DEATH!" began to roar out from the hundreds, no thousands, of orcs mustered all around them here in the stronghold as the old shaman raised his spear high and the bonfire behind him seemed to suddenly combust into flame. Screams emerged from the flames as the half conscious orc warrior there felt it, and himself upon it, come alight; not that she cared anything for as she chanted along, he had been an enemy warrior after all. Not long lasting though as she felt power grow slowly but surely from the old one as her Karg strode forward a step and raised his sword with its white hot flame high in the air to end chant and bring an eerie silence once again.

"UNITED WE STAND, DIVIDED WE FALL! EVERY ADVANTAGE, EVERY STRENGHT OF EACH OF US SINGLY ARE MADE STRONGER UNITED! AND UNITED WE SHALL BE AN UNSTOPPABLE FURY! A HORDE THAT WILL SHATTER ALL OUR FOES! WE ARE ILLUSK! LET OUR FOES TREMBLE FOR A NEW POWER IS RISING!" he roared out before turning back and striding towards his own bonfire intermingled with the broken weapons and banners of his foes. Karg disliked blood magic, saying forced sacrifice was powerful but unreliable, so he opted for other methods that appealed to his patron god. With a roar the bonfire erupted into flame as thousands of voices answered his call.

"RISE! RISE! RISE! RISE! RISE!"

She waited a few moments before slamming her own staff off the ground and bringing about another round of silence as that thrum of power slowly started to build in her mind her own voice rose "IN THE NAME OF THE CAVE MOTHER LET US MULTIPLE AND FLOURISH! LET OUR LARDERS BE FULL AND BY OUR UNION OF CLANS BRING FORTH EVEN GREATER GLORY AND STRENGTH IN OUR WARRIORS AND CHIEFTAINS! LET US BE ONE IN THE SHELTER OF THE CAVES AND TAKE WHAT WAS OURS AND WILL BE OURS AGAIN! VICTORY AND GLORY IN HER NAME!"

Turning on her heels she hurled a tiny flask that Karg provided at the small bonfire as she was slamming her staff into the ground and it emitted a bright flash from the crystal at the top. Moments later the bonfire surround by blessings to her patron burst into flame as the chants of "VICTORY!" mixed with "GLORY!" roared out from their audience. Building up the worshipers was a vital part of any ritual she and Karg had found, the older females had taught her that, and whatever old Vretkag had shown Karg during his apprenticeship to the cranky old orc. And so it continued as each of the other clerics chanted out their brief speech and following chant from the mob around them; though she tuned it out as the feeling of power welling up within her at each beating of her heart. Almost by magic all six bonfires were alight before her eyes as the chanting began in earnest, more guttural and roaring that any eligible words as the noise reverberated off the walls of the old castle they were rebuilding.

Strangely the lights of the flames seemed to burn a different colour on each bonfire; Karg's tinged with white, hers with darker reds amidst the orange flames and the others flickering slightly different with greens and browns, to an almost black taint n the flames of the eldest shaman. Around the flames the runes were beginning to pulse in the moonlit night like silver webs on the stone walls. She thumped her staff in rhythmic beat to the chanting as her acolytes joined their voices to that of the others as they danced and moved. Before her as on some unheard order the six God-slaves stepped out of their boots, shedding the fur cloaks to stand in only mask and collar in the ritual circles between the shamans and the still unlit central bonfire. It has hard to catch her breath as the atmosphere grew hot and oppressive despite the cold night indicated by the flickers of falling snow around them. Power, lust, pain, joy, a multitude of feelings seemed to bubble up inside her staff beat off the ground in rhythmic beat to the chanting and the hissing shriek of claws on stone reached her ears somehow.

"IN THY NAME WE SERVE! IN THEY NAME WE UNITE TO CONQUER OUR FOES WHO LET YOUR PEOPLE ASTRAY! OH GLORIOUS AND MOST POWERFUL DEITIES WE OFFER UP OUR PRAISES AND THESE OFFERINGS TO SHOW OUR LOYALTY TO YOU! MAY YOU LOOK UPON US, YOUR SERVANTS, WITH YOUR BLESSINGS AS WE SMITE THOSE WHO WOULD DENY YOUR MIGHT AND GLORY!"

The old one was roaring out over the chanting and noise. Above the moonlight seemed to vanish and an oppressive darkness settle in around the stronghold alongside that claw-shriek and rumble of thunder off in the distance. She groaned in ecstasy-agony as she strode forward amidst the spider-web of glowing rune symbols, past the gyrating God-slave and the blood seeming to seep down from her mask and collar over her pale flesh like the other five. Step by step she walked forward to stand before the ceremonial bonfire at the centre of the network of runes and symbols, as it and the offerings suddenly burst into a spectral blaze that illuminated the pitch black courtyard...

--

[Wifne 06]

Shaman's Keep, Stronghold of Sparta

Wifne Humbletree sat quietly sipping at the pleasant tasting mixture of herbs in boiling water she made up to relax in the wake of what was supposedly to come tonight. Of course that fact of a ritual being too dark orcish Gods that somewhat obvious to note when Lord Karguk had explained to them an outline of what was to occur this night. She hummed contently at the smell as she cradled the warm wooden goblet in her hands, still considering the circumstances and what she had feared this had all been an almost...pleasant...experience staying in this tower over the winter. Bizarre, truly strange, and fearful as well at times but most everything had been as her little flower described of the orc shaman's domestic life. It gave her some small hope that the strange calm that come upon the valley could continue into the future – and hitching their hopes to the Shaman and his minions seemed the best chance to keep the village safe.

And her beautiful little granddaughter as well she thought glancing at the little mop of red hair playing with the little orcish child across from her, laughter coming from her mouth as they play fought on the fur rugs. While guards were outside the doors, and young female orcs occasionally entered to ask if they needed anything, it was clear enough to Wifne Humbetree that the two orcs trusted her little Rose the rest of them to guard their young while they were at their ceremony. Or perhaps it was a test she mused idly, but whatever the case her granddaughter clearly saw Master Karguk as a teacher of sorts, or even a surrogate father-figure to her own discomfort. Losing her parents so young had left Rose somewhat bereft and had always seemed to want to fill that hole in her heart with those she could trust, which tended to be few sadly. One of which...turned out to be the servant of an Evil Orc War God for some reason. Wifne sighed softly. Life had truly become bizarre in these past few years.

"Wow that was sorta anti-climatic. Giving up without a fight eh Lady Tris?" the slave girl Kethri giggled softly at the half-elf woman who was glaring at the game-board.

Some strange mixture of map and game-board of the North with little wooden tokens upon it; Wifne herself hadn't played it but her little flower seemed to enjoy the Shaman's strange creation even if she was not involved in this game and its strange mix of strategy and luck that it entailed. As she understood it the orc leaders of the clan had created it to teach their clan members the basics of the North's lands beyond the valley as well as make them think of how to command warriors bloodlessly. It was all...both worrying and a measure of security. Civilized Orcs ruling them Good, savage normal orcs winning and being in charge Bad; simple difference that meant the world to the village.

"But, but, but,...these dice must be rigged! The whole game is rigged against meeeeee! How could I have lost! I'd everything planned outttttttt"

"Muhahahahaha! Luskan hath fallen to mine Legions! Now unto Mirabar and the Ten Towns! Victory is mine! No crying over your bad rolls my little Tris, hehehe! Now all bow before your new Empress!" it was the Drow elf this time, gesticulating wildly with her arms at the others as if she had accomplished some great feat by her actions. The Shaman's personal slave just across from the silver haired elf folded her arms across her chest and huffed as if to clear her throat.

"Ehmm...I believe WE are victorious"

"Yes, yes, my sexy little rivvil you...helped...I suppose on my road to glorious victory by distracting mine helpless dice rolling Tris..."

Wifne smiled to herself with amusement watching the interplay between the small group seated around the 'war table' as they argued over who had won, one alone or as a team or as these 'tokens' with secret 'orders to win' upon them dictated. But it was a pleasant argument of friends not the bitter disputes that she had to occasionally sort amongst the village for the common good. Her village she thought sadly, one that was changing more rapidly in these mere seasons than in the decades that had gone before. It was...disconcerting to say the least, and stressful to be away. The orc female Ghorza was a harsh ruler, albeit fair in situation to ensure peace and propensity – an obedient and prosperous land that pays its tribute as she had put it. Selfish reasoning of course behind it but little different than what Wifne had seen on her trip to Neverwinter all those years ago. It was just the way of the world ordained by the Gods; some rule, the rest obey. So as you plant, then as you reap.

Still she treasured this extended period with her little flower on the other hand. Her Rose had been so brave in accepting her place as what was a hostage to protect the peace of the village. Though she was more in truth the Shaman and his wife's apprentice in truth than anything else, all very disturbing to Wifne in so many ways to hear the words of war and battle from her cheerful little flower's mouth. Or to see her innocent granddaughter appear as a not-so-innocent warrior as she brutalised orc acolytes in training with the Shaman's encouragement, taking punishment with a feral grin. It had been upsetting to Wifne, to see even if she had smiled and offered Rose encouragement. But part of her was also glad as well...the part of village elder rather than doting grandmother. Her little flower was growing stronger and well versed in the ways of the orcs, while also building a strong relationship with the mad Shaman (and through him his Chief and kin) which would lessen any burden upon the village in the seasons to come. She smiled sadly as the little orc girl play fought with her little flower. 'Grow strong my little flower, grow strong and be safe'

"They're starting soon it looks like" the voice of the girl with gold trimmed collar at her neck, Missy she reminded herself, stated with a sigh from the shuttered wing, evidently having gotten up from the table without Wifne noticing.

"I'll bring Kargash up to the tower to watch" her granddaughter announced calmly with little of her usual cheer. A determined tone Wifne knew from the child growing up, when her little flower wanted to do something but knew she would be unhappy in the learning of it like her tree climbing adventures. Oh how many times had the child tumbled at first before she had seemed to become half mountain goat at climbing?

"I'll go with you my little flower and keep you company" she herself stated with a smile as she stood slowly leaving the goblet on the small wooden stand nearby. Around her the others of their little group seemed to debate in similar tones as her Rose frowned at her.

"It's...scary grandma, real scary. You don't have to go, I promised to bring Kargash to Mistress Ogrash...and prove I'm not afraid and won't cry afterward like last time" her little flower stated back looking at her with a serious expression on her face.

To her side the woman Missy was nodding in agreement as the drown woman Lua, and half-elf Tris voiced curiosity. It had been stressed that this was a powerful summon to them by the orc Shaman after all and Wifne was wary in regards such things, they were...disturbing on a small level. If not for her little flower's determination to face her fears Wifne herself would not wish to see such a thing. The drow's eagerness to witness such from mere bravado was perhaps foolish. Still after a few minutes of quick discussion on the subject, and sound of a chant beginning outside, she found herself ascending the stairs outside of the rooms up to the rooftop of the tower. The two guards there, younger orcs who she'd found were loyal to the Shaman as acolytes were standing watching the ritual below rather than at the doorway on guard as would normally be the case. Indeed both merely acknowledged their presence and returned to viewing, and chanting, the growing cacophony of thousands of orc voices that was rising from the packed walls, keep and courtyard of the ancient castle. It was almost painful on the ears as she pushed herself to stride forward with her little flower who held the excited orc child in hand, the child's brother held in the hands of the slave-girl Mara as the roaring increased in tempo...

...beneath them in the courtyard below was a scene from horror stories she had heard as a child herself. Bonfires burned, but even from here she could feel the power, dark terrifying power, beginning to seep from them in the darkness of night. While she couldn't see the scene clearly in the moonlight and light falling snow what was apparent was the spider-web of ritual symbols starting to expand out from each burning pillar...Chauntea was that screaming from the almost black tainted flame?

Instinctively as the fear within her grew she began to pray silently to herself, the very air was starting to become ominous as she watched with each passing moment. Ominous, oppressive and stiflingly hot despite the cold night and softly falling snow as the very stones of the great fortress started to shriek silently as if great claws were tearing at it. Dancing madly, yet standing still, within the shadows cast by the six bonfires she could make out six uncladed figures with masks and the roaring in her head started to grow, and grow and grow...

'Chauntea preserve me, Oh wise Earth Mother protect me in the darkness, bless this humble child with your strength and wisdom' she prayed fervently as darkness descended. Pure and unadulterated darkness that seem to mock her as she fell to her knees cowering as in by its unspoken command; all she could do suddenly was kneel against the ramparts and stare down upon the terror and noise throught the gaps in them. Darkness, Darknessm Darkness, everywhere was darkness...

...and suddenly eerie unnatural light blanketed the entre of that bottomless pit of darkness as the largest bonfire broke into screaming flame before her eyes. Her heart thudded in her chest as she gripped the stone of the ramparts for support as six large orc figures stepped forward into its light, weapons held high and shouting words in unison she couldn't hear over the noise of her own fear and the thousands of roaring orcs. Around her the drow was staring, seemingly clad in naught but moonlight with an unreadable expression on her face, but she too was on her knees body trembling despite empty eyes. Her Rose like all the others were down, orc, human, elf or half-breed, all here on the top of the tower were down...though the orcs faces were ones of ecstasy and awe alongside the fear and terror Wifne felt. Even that of the child held in her little flowers arms as Wifne could no longer look, just be pressed down to grovel at some unseen force, but the child was both crying and laughing as all sound was drowned out by that terrifying roar and bright darkness all around her that never seemed to end...

Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop

...something was snarling and roaring as images flashed before her. A great field of blood soaked grass amidst the sounds of battle. From beneath crimson wings of fire a woman, an angel, strode face twisted and marred by rage that ruined her angelic vista. A hulking monster in iron armour raised a fiery axe in armoured hand as behind him a village burned amidst screams of terror. Ships sailed and burned beneath a weeping sky as mocking laughter echoed in the distance. Demons stalked the lands as a castle fell and human soldiers fled before them. Someone was shouting. Someone was snarling. Someone was roaring...

Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop

VictoryordeathVictoryordeathVictoryordeathVictoryordeathVictoryordeathVictoryordeathVictoryordeath

Darkness consumed her as she slumped against the cold stone walls.

--

[Karguk 33]

[The Mind you have dialled is currently engaged – please try again later]

'Well this is different' I thought gazing about my...mindscape?

hmmmm...

...I paused. How does one thoughts inside ones thoughts when one's current body is just a mental project inside my thoughts. It all looked and felt quite real after all, even smelt and tasted real too as I sat at the 'bar' and sniffed at the 'pint of Guinness' – this was some Inception level bullshit really. When I'd worked on the concept of 'city of the mind' and 'memory palace' I hadn't planned in it a literal sense...then again; Magic. Add magic and you got weirdness and also a nice secure meeting place for my ultimate Boss and myself considering the presence of the rest of the pantheon. None of this was real of course...but well, hmmmm...normally I'd argue someone having imaginary business meetings in their head was less than sane. I 'sighed' and took a drink from the 'pint' before me. Best enjoy the madness then I suppose, forward momentum and all that. Just because your dreams are being hijacked for work purposes doesn't mean one should give. Go with the flow, have a drink, relax. Or at least that's the imaginary barmaid told me before tottering off to...hmmmm...

...somewhere else in my memories I imagine. This was all quite weird being in the imaginary creation version of a pub I'd used to go out in all the time in a past life. Edit evidently by yours truly (I'd no idea how) because I'm alot taller and bulkier now as an orc and yet everything is as I remembered it for my previous life's size and such. Also nobody was running screaming from the big scary chainmail clad orc either and I'm reasonably sure a big scary orc would have gotten some sort of reaction even from the drunker idiots. Maybe...maybe, this was like lucid dreaming on a larger scale?

Test it out. Test it out. Test it out.

No...I really should just...

Test it out. Test it out. Test it out. You know you wanna...

Okay. Just a quick test. FOR SCIENCE!

Rack memories. Focus on image. Click fingers.

Some people stand in the darkness

Afraid to step into the light

Some people need to help somebody

When the edge of surrender's in sigh...

I blinked. Huh?

Oh yeah...I guess the memory was linked to that music?

Hmmmm...that's interesting I guess.

Outside the 'window' the dark night had turned into a bright sunny beach and several attractive women in skimpy clothing ran by in a strange sort of slow-mo. I like this ability. It could be useful. But business is more important as I 'clicked' my fingers again. That was probably unnecessary but, hey, need to focus my thoughts somehow I guess. Outside the dark 'misty' night had returned and I glanced at the bookshelf with various written novels and tomes on it. Evidently my memory of the place pre-renovation in my teens and early twenties trumped that of it after the fact. Wasn't that a weird little fact I mused?

Pain as if a great weight was upon my mind. Pressure from the might and glory that filled my being. Power that filled me with strength, fear, awe.

Show time it seemed as the my mind was hammered down by indescribable power. It was most definitely a religious experience between agony and ecstasy of the magic hinted. I went to one knee, fist on carpet with bowed head "My Lord"

"Rise, Sit. This is much more convenient for purposes"

"Thank you my Lord" I rose and retook my seat, a comfy chair that just wasn't on Faerun, or my part of it. When we expanded and conquered getting a comfy chair was getting added to the list of loot I wanted. As always the Boss was the usual image of power and intimidation in his armour, though the image of him sitting in a matching chair in the middle of pub from a past life was somewhat unusual. Hopefully it was as comfy as my chair at least, really didn't want to offend the Boss after all.

"They are your memories minion, and yes...it is quite a comfy chair as you say" was the response in that tone of metal grinding on other metal perhaps, or a blade leaving its sheath. Hard to describe really my mind informed me in a 'Data incomplete' sorta of way as the armoured figure motioned with a hand and the previous barmaid returned. Or at least a version of the woman, gone was all that modern clothing and in place a slave collar and grovelling prostrate posture as she offered a pint to her 'glorious master'. Evidently my mind was being read in some manner and a show of power put on. Good to know I suppose. I probably should be panicking but that never got you anywhere against overwhelming power so I nodded in obedience at the motion that I could retake me own 'pint'. I could do with a 'drink' after all as the 'barmaid' wandered off to...wherever it was...once again. Weird that.

"Yes your mind is open to me of course my servant, as it should be. Currently your mortal frame, like those servants of the others from the pantheon, are unconscious as the ritual moves towards completion. Visions and power swirls, and that is all the others shall see of my power over your clan and yourself. For have you much to do and time grows short to prove your worth. That you have survived as I have ordered is a start, but the heretic upstart who would claim himself Warlord must be destroyed is your first, but one of many, tasks my servant" a gauntleted hand gestured at the large flat 'tv-screen' in the corner. Upon it the images of a powerful force of orcs ravaged a series of small villages and trade caravans as towering fire giants strode amongst the flame and carnage roaring orders.

Much like in a news report a map image, showing the movements of the 'warring parties', appeared in the corner of the screen; while it seemed th Furry Fucker had done well the whole thing had been little more than a glorified raid. Griffons Nest was untouched and he'd stayed away from Mirabar. I know I should be bashing him for cowardice but it indicated the bastard had a functioning brain like I'd feared. A traditional orc Horde in his numbers wouldn't be able to crack the defences of a city-state like Mirabar, nor take on the full strength of the Uthgardt tribes in their own lands just yet. I hate when the enemy had brains as well as brawn. But it was also apparent his Horde had dispersed as expected...food issues I'd guess as usual...and would have to be reassembled once again. He wasn't unbeatable yet.

"Yet my Servant, Yet, but he has strength and in time that will bring many to his banners. The other Gods are lax in their care of late. Even now their attention here is half hearted; all show and little of substance despite Surtr's arrogance. But you have sworn them and I your new Horde shall destroy he and his. This you must do or you shall be destroyed in failure. A year, perhaps two, but the False Warlord must fall before the Time of Change if you are to prove worthy of serving me. You will lure him in, destroy him and his clan and take control of these lands in MY NAME when your numbers are deemed sufficient to the task"

I nodded obediently "Yes My Lord, as You command I obey, Wyrmog will fall"

"And others, challenge will come from those you think perhaps defeated. Their strength is faded but not broken from all the blood spilled. I expect you to break them and shatter them before my new kingdom as you must also break the False Warlord" another gesture and image of tents appeared in the snow. Horses were covered with furs in stables as armoured men and women stood around pushing Uthgarders out of the way as some noise came from a tent. Emblazoned on their plate clad chests was the image of Sun? I guessed over a field of sorts. Hmm...not the traditional symbol of Uthgar or Talos no, it was...Lathander?

That was...strange. A problem too in handling heavy cavalry; up in the mountains our infantry trumped them in the crags and paths but they'd be a real danger out in open ground.

From the largest tent emerged a woman in matching armour, large twin blades over her shoulders as a crowd began to assemble before her. While there was no sound I could almost hear the roar as she drew those blades, magic trailing behind them as the blazed like crimson wings...

"Too your west the humans war amongst each other..." a series of images appeared upon the screen. Ships fighting at sea flying the banners of Luskan and Neverwinter, it appeared the Luskan's were winning. Two great hosts clashed in the field as demons flew, though I only recognised one of the banners. Another battlefield, again Luskan and Neverwinter clashed this time on land rather than at sea

"...and the Demons have seized their fortress further south with wars to come to seize it back..." Dragonspear I guessed from the pretty horrible images that unfolded. Neverwinter, Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate would be busy for a while to come hopefully dealing with that.

"...but you must be ready for the challenge to come after you survive the False Warlord and the Female of the Dawn..." these next images I recognised even if they seemed strange from above. Luskan, the Port, the Host-tower and the Markets.

"...they will fall when the time comes. So you must prepare for that in the years to come and I command thee to battle in MY NAME"

Well that was a big ask. Like a really, really, big ask. But...I'd think of something. I hoped. As I started to voice a reply more pressure was placed on my mind. The Boss waved his hand to be still as a shadow approached. Pain. Pain. Pain. Ahhh...that's better.

"You won't remember this part my servant, but your input shall be given as I command for my guest. It is your mind and my domain that shall be our neutral hidden ground in this negotiation and contract. Do not disappoint me my minion"

--

When: 1355 Dale Reckoning I expect at this stage

Where: Shaman's Tower, Sparta

Well it's been an eventful few days let's just say. Full of quasi divinely enforced-sleeping, feasting, vision-dreams, planning and a host of other thinks that had me basically collapse into bed for a night-day long sleep till a little while ago. Honestly it was exhausting performing the Midwinter ritual alone without the Boss paying me a visit and then resulting stream of visions induced upon most of the clan (and others apparently) by the rest of the pantheon. We had several should have been fatalities bar magic accidents resulting from that merry little visitation...but of course the overall result is a fairly massive jump in fanaticism/religiosity/belief in our sunshine happy blood pact alliance. Deus Vult and all that, all helped by the Gods being rather direct in their 'go murder that heathen dude for us guys like good little minions' overall message of the night.

Of course those amongst us in the clerical ranks got rather more detailed set of marching orders (myself I suspect most clearly in that) than vague visions of 'Fire Giants Bad. Orcs Good' than many got along with religious ecstasy and some mild magical blessings. Assuming your 'worthy' (patron God dependent of course) of these merry little blessings and didn't end up with a massive headache and urge to get drunk afterwards like me. Evidently I missed out on the brawl followed by drunken orgy that broke out on a certain floor of the Keep in the wake of the ritual; I'm going with a One Eye-Cave Mother tag team for that event...and resulting slew of new 'marriages' amongst the younger males & females. Honestly my memory of the ritual aftermath beyond the first few beers and then waking up in bed is pretty hazy. The others tell me I had fun, considering how busy between then and now was I'll go with they were right and imagine the blanks.

Part of this I expect is due to my own personal 'blessings' from my patron settling into my body and soul so to speak. Most likely I was, and to a degree still am, feeling the after-effects of this imbuing of power we'll call it for the moment. In theory a reward for not dying during the year, and while to a degree I choose them, I'd very much expect the motive of needing a stepping up in performance considering the mountain of deeds we need to accomplish a short period of time. But for now let's try think on the positives and stuff; forward momentum and all that cheerful bullshit. So yeah got a magical blessing, power-up, helpful boost, whatever you want to call it sometime after things get sorta blurry in my memory after meeting the Boss. Or to be more exact I don't remember a fucking thing after getting my marching orders to crush the Furry Fucker, some lunatic woman in armour and Luskan of course. So I've been told I choose them is the more accurate summary of the powers even if they do match what I'd probably request. Maybe.

Whatever the case let's just say I've been imbued with 'innate' powers or magic of a sort from the Boss's portfolio as a deity; or Domains as they were officially called after 3.5e or the Era of Upheaval. Something won't occur, or occur as it would have, in the 'alternative timeline' as we'll call it. Anyway since I've woken and had time to think upon things, and read my Tome of Wiki, I'd give a short answer of gaining 'abilities' in the Domains of Planning and War. What this means exactly is still to be explored and developed on my own recognizance evidently but the basic info I received for now was basically longer lasting spells and greater ability with magic weapons and armour. Of course I'm supposed to figure it out on my own without the tutorial from the Boss. So I've been studying my 'game mechanics' knowledge through the Tome of Wiki and trying to figure out some things about it. After all I supposedly won't have to invoke the Boss for these abilities when I've mastered it. Convenient, if for example, my access to my patron got cut-off for some reason like the Gods falling to the mortal realm or something. Particularly useful for some who likes using arcane magic as well so the odds of me wanting this over, say, a magic sword or armour is really quite high I think?

So there's that to consider firstly. While my 'blessings' can considered hidden by virtue of their nature (and I fully intend to hide them from the likes of our 'allied' clans) the shiny black staff of wood and metal that appeared in the flames. Which is currently powerless at this very moment even while imbued with a 'gift of power' from each of the Gods evidently – of course it won't work till we kill Wyrmog because that's how our pantheon roll. Or to be more exactly fulfil six deeds (one of which is killing the Furry Fucker) to activate it as Six Gods blah, blah. I'm not going into it now as I don't get the staff of magic powers that we can't use right now as that's for Darth Phargk, Ancient Orcish Sith Lord. Truth be told I don't know whether to be annoyed at not getting the shinies, or just plain relieved I don't have to handle an artifice given by Gods other than my patron deity. Whatever the case it now looks like that I'm going to have plenty of time to work upon developing these abilities and increasing my arcane learning in the coming seasons. Now I know how Zah and Oggy felt when I marched off last year with the army to join Wyrmog's Horde and fight the Uthgardters. One prefers to control one's own destiny after all rather than entrusting it to others to carry it out – like watching others play a game and doing it 'wrong' from your point of view.

Sorry I get ahead of myself. One big result of the visions was information on our foes. Some woman and her mates who serve Lathander who's allied the Uthgardt, and Luskan of course, but primarily on our good friend the Furry Fucker. As with all Horde's in their proto-stage Wyrmog's largely dispersed back to their own clans as we'd expected and the Red Axe's hinted at; visions (which I don't trust 100% but we have supporting evidence as I said) basically have the same and showing it's just Wyrmog and mostly his own Bearclaws and some allied clans around him. Now on experience Orcish forces don't move in large number during the winter or early spring; we did but that was desperation after our camp got wrecked. So the standard tactic now for him to be hunkering down till into spring time and then start to reform the Horde come late spring-early summer after hunting all the game and forage from his areas.

And beating the other clans nearby his own into line once again of course; then after a few years (short years with his numbers really) the land is exhausted and the Horde moves like tidal wave of every available warrior towards a large non-orc settlement. After his successes last year it'll likely be next year or the one after I'd expect, but if left alone could be this year. So after much, much, discussion between our alliance of clan leaders we're going ahead with Zah's plan – the Kill Wyrmog to shatter Horde one in fact. As mentioned Orc Armies don't march in general at this time of year due to likelihood of starving to death in the process; know what we have?

Full larders, thanks to having an agricultural base and some basic trading; plus our lovely armoured wagons to haul said rations on a forced march as well as offer mobile cover. Oh and the fact our combat strength be organised in relatively swift order between us and Moonblades – and the Night-tombs and minor clan allies are already here mostly for the negotiations. Not all our strength of course, but our better trained warriors are basically ready to move in the time it'll take for the 'full' Moonblades contingent to arrive here. The main issue is of course timing; the snows have lightened and you can move in it (slowly) but when the ground unfreezes in spring the Crags would be dreadful hard to move in again for a week to a few weeks.

Zah's plan then is to move now, as in our warriors are being drilled into formation outside right now and who is to go with the expedition being chosen. But not me evidently, no not me at all – Karguk get's to stay back to mind the fort as Zah and Old Breyjuk go with that Old Bastard Phargk to play heroes. What's worse my logic agrees with them. Zah is quite simply better than me as a warrior and a general and the Old Bastard is far more powerful cleric than I am right at this moment. Especially with Zah's usage of my own words to him from last year being used against me that we can risk everything just in case they attack us while we sent an army away. That and someone always needs to ride herd on the vassals as beyond the kobolds we don't have time to raise them at the drop of a hat.

Instead crops need to be planted, food brought in and then fresh fighting forces assembled for the summer battles if the attack now fails. In fairness it's typical Zah – hit hard, hit fast and show no mercy. That and go for the jugular to of course. For me I'll rely on the three M's of Militia, Magic and Mobile forces to secure the valley in the interim while a true army can assembled once again; the expeditionary forces are around fifteen hundred to eighteen hundred strong after all. Should still have advantage against just the Bearclaws and their nearby tributary clans and better odds than fighting out full might against theirs – best strike while the numbers are in our favour. Sadly it won't be a surprise attack per se, baring their scouts are drunk as well as blind, but they can't rally a Horde overnight thankfully. I pray we succeed in a quick decisive blow. Ilneval be with us and may Wyrmog fall.

--

When: Late Winter, 1355DR

Where: Keep, Sparta

Well they've left, Gods be with us. Zah and Old Breyjuk marched out with the core of our fighting forces today alongside the Night-tombs contingent and a few of the minor war-bands eager to join; they're to link up with Moonblades north of here after taking on kobold vassals. Sluggish progress comparatively I'll say due to late winter weather and the nature of wagons, but their well supplied and honestly pretty fanatical thanks to recent visitation. All fired up holy crusaders off to smash the dirty heretics and heathens is the general consensus outside (and to an extent inside) the clan it seems. Not going to complain as high morale is important and the truth is they are doing the Gods work in the end.

Apologies, I'm just somewhat frustrated after watching them leave and me being left behind having to wait for news while important events unfold without my input – really I have to hope my prep work in helping create this new fighting force is enough of an advantage to crust the foe-orcs. I suspect focusing on the rather large amount of work that needs to be done in the meantime for the Boss's future plans will help. Either they win and we'll need to be prepared to advance this agenda, or they lose and we'll need a solid base to fight on from in the event of the worst occurring. I've retained over a hundred of our veteran warriors while the expeditionary forces took nearly the majority, though I've retained the cavalry, ours and a portion of the Moonblades, in balance which I think averages it all out with their increased mobility in the valley. Zah and the expedition intend to use the allied 'cavalry' as a screen while I work to train up our own. Honestly that's the main thing that was left to me to handle in military terms; I've all the trainees, older youths and these half-trained new bloods to make up the numbers quite significantly.

Like with the other two 'Big 3' clans there's been a steady trickle over the year, two even, into our ranks from loners and tiny bands of young warriors. I've also got an odd mixture amongst my acolytes in the sense I've the best among them, and then the youngest and ones needing the training the most. Really it was about having a strong cadre to train up the next generation and maintain the stability of our rule within the valley proper. Can't afford to show weakness and spark off a rebellion for instance, nor risk being stomped upon by a matching attack from an enemy whose thinking like we do – the Chiefs take the majority of our 'professional' fighting forces and I get the larger numbers of essentially militia and a small core of elites to maintain order and train the rest up. Still it's a good complaint as our fighting male numbers finally start to recover and reflect our massively expanded population of the past five years. Zah did it well last year and I will do the same in this one, Boss willing at least.

Now timing all this is going to be a bit of an issue. While our forces, I mean the orc male part, can be effectively full time soldiers I kinda want to maintain the human 'levy' for the planting during the spring, while also seeing when the kobolds and goblins plant their own 'crops' like that large mushroom fungus stuff I saw. That and I need them mining as well so the blacksmiths we just cross trained over the winter can start churning out weapons and armour to a certain standard. It would be somewhat stupid basically to raise a 'massive' (valley dependent) fighting force of all our vassals and then turn out not to be able to either feed, or equip, the whole thing. This may sound obvious but was historically an issue at times on Earth and is still very much and issue on Faerun judging from its history and rumour.

Plus another issue is not having clerical magic available to boost crop production during a certain year when the tap gets turned off temporarily – I've been having a think and I need to insure we have enough supplies to get through that year and the start of the next. Full bellies are an important part of having a starting point for societal stability after all and empty ones a good way to spark rebellion and madness. It wasn't really an issue on the last campaign but our numbers are kinda growing...plus what looks like a big baby boom in coming months...so it's a race to expand capacity to get our new kingdom to the next level of 'living standards' so to speak. At least I can kill two birds with one stone in this regards with the recruits and trainees – construction work is training for siege warfare and rapid field fortification I've found. It also helps with squad discipline and basic leadership somewhat, while highlighting the 'problem' cases pretty quickly amongst them. Leads to attrition of course, but best to nip the problem in the bud basically I've found.

Now where I plan to start is Sim Mayoring the 'town' below the stronghold that's sort of sprung up since we arrived back here a few years ago. While initially it was relatively organised like a military camp (with a basic wooden palisade around it) the fact is during my absence on the campaign and everything else the place has gotten pretty haphazard in the way of orcs. Basically a building where and how you like sort of affair as people squat where they want one or two of the terrace plots we'd setup got building-ified basically. It's not a big issue but if I want to 'get to the next level' of the development tree I reckon getting it more organised is a good starting point. For instance we have a 'market area' but during the negotiations it was pretty apparent it was too small as the buildings around it got grabbed in the past year or so. There are also those that have been entrepreneurs like that kobold with the tavern who sells me potion reagents that have been doing my job for me in some ways. In many ways in truth, mostly as I wasn't here due to being off playing soldier-orc for seasons on end last year.

It's been something I've thinking about as I walked the lower slopes today, and from talking to Wifne, Hippy-Dippy, 'King' Tucker and that mildly idiotic goblin who calls himself a 'Captain'. Firstly I want to get them to bless the garden plots and fields here before the return to their own villages in the spring – which of course means I'd want to expand these areas before they do so. Hard to do so now with the frozen earth but I reckon when the thaw hits we might have a period where we can create a few fields while also having mud for mud-brick house and wall creation. So what I might do is meet with the tavern owner and those living around it and have a talk about expanding that area into a 'trading square' of sorts by building up certain buildings and relocating others. Basically reward those doing well and helping expand my clan's wealthy and/or holding as an incentive of sorts.

See by using Sparta as a trade hub for the valley should hopefully discourage rebellion and increase our stores by creating a viable market-barter system in the valley. It's already somewhat there as small groups are trading between the various vassal villages but it's tentative and needs dramatic expanding in my view. That means things like having accommodation for people to stay, secure storage places, a decent market area, shops to sell things and a good solid source of entertainment like that tavern. It's something that can done fairly rapidly over the spring (while also further clearing the tree-line for line of sight and fields) and set towards having proper trade by harvest season. After all it's not like things have to be built from scratch this around in most cases, merely expanded/repairing upon the last three years worth of crude construction. It should also be a way to help build loyalty amongst certain elements towards our rule, or at the least reducing the friction and fear of our sudden rise to power here in the valley. Have plenty of building materials and all these dudes who need to be trained so I'm fine with going all out on the 'village' below in our crude, and sadly not overly advanced, manner of orc engineering.

Right now the kobolds tend to supply iron and silver ore from their mines (plus finished tools but not made for orcish hands in truth) along with this weird fungus alcohol evidently, the goblins supply some measure of crops and animal herding, while the two human majority villages are the main agricultural and skilled labour suppliers. In tandem with building up the square I want to expand our alcohol production, for a variety of reasons, but that also means expanding the sources of ingredients to produce it. Mostly Beers and Whiskey because their grain based and we can grow that relatively easily; ain't growing no grapes up here in the Crags basically. Though I'll admit there are alot of apple trees and other fruit sources nearby so I could conceivably try the fruit cider route?

Note to self – Check our stores of fruit seeds and what the females say is abundant nearby. I'd expect there's alot of strawberries, raspberries and blackberries nearby judging from what pops up on the menu of late so to speak. Wouldn't be too hard to setup a few plots for them and grow them as crop for either flavoured beer or fruit cider production. Talk to Wifne and Rose about this and get feedback. I'll have my lot build some a fine new house and still if need be to get it done.

Missy has ideas and I'm letting her do up a proposal of sorts on how to create this village square in the next few days alongside our continuing arcane studies with Doctor Ned. Truth be told I'm happy enough to let any of them offer advice on the matter, oddly enough Grumpy Crue and Etlin had suggestions even if tavern related in origin. I will say it has brought me around to perhaps establishing an 'Adventurers Guild' of sorts here in the stronghold to handle minor issues while bringing onboard those who aren't normally going to be happy working through our standard warrior core. Basically that means non-orcs, younger males from outside the clan, females who want and adventurer and the likes of Lua and Tris who need to guided into useful 'adventures' for society rather than running amok.

It also would be a useful start to establishing a counter for human and elven adventurers in this oft narrative driven work. At least our newbie adventurers will have a Guild to train them up and get 'useful' quests from. There are some rats that need killing in one of the abandoned lower slope storerooms for instance. I'll chat to Oggy, Breyza, and the others for opinions later on about it. It's an idea anyway and gouging adventurers for goods, and buying cheap 'loot' off them, is a standard part of the Northern economy I noticed on my trip through those human lands. Pro-tip; don't let on your an adventurer or merc, go with scholarly career or low level merchant – gets you better prices. Anywho, got to go now. Work to be done.

--

[Missasri 20]

'Town' on Lower Slopes, Stronghold of Sparta

"Careful now, bit slippery here" her orcish owner informed her as he gripped her hand and helped her up the rock face to the small terrace area. And, also as by the very mentioning itself, she stumbled momentarily over some frozen snow, though thankfully catching herself between her orc's grip on her arm and young Rose catching the shoulder of her robes. Missasri offered her thanks to them as she straightened herself now that they were standing on this patch of frozen earth and rock beneath the looming presence of the stronghold above and crude 'town' across, and below, them. Just another rough patch of hilly ground and outcropping on the broken terrain at the foot of the old castle she found, beyond the cave entrance ahead of them and it was near the bottom of the various slopes. Master Karguk though, and the kobold, seemed to have more of an interest in it as he motioned at the drop off to their side, the other outcropping across from them, and then the cave as he spoke to said kobold tavern owner.

"Right now that we're here Menkin what I was thinking is building you a new tavern from here, to there, to over there. We can use the rockwall as the back, with the cave there as some rooms with a little work, and then we put floors across from here over to the flats and that outcropping there. The gap between here and there can be a basement since its solid rock for a foundation. So two stories each with treble the space you've currently got, with a large basement and the cave as well, and the plan is to turn all that nice flat land over there into a market area...doesn't look like much now but buildings on the group here, there, there, there and off over there and it levels this whole terrace off into a large ring of sorts. From your point of view you get a bigger building and make more coin from that, and from mine I get to fix that massive fire waiting to happen that is our current little lower slopes village"

Missasri studied the terrain and then the 'village' that had sprung up in the time since her enslavement and arrival in this place. While the initial wooden buildings had been built in a crude army encampment sort of way after the battle with the other local clans the fact was in the following seasons the various gatherings, orcs (and others like the kobold) squatting where they wanted, and then others randomly building where and what they liked...well that had turned the place into something of a sprawling mess in her owners words. Something he was seemingly intent on rectifying in the seasons to come with surprising urgency along with her own aid in the matter. And it had been her advice (well of sorts) on the matter he was following right now in building a series of large well spaced out buildings on a series of 'terrace rings' as he called them coming down from the stronghold itself. Truth be told the more 'civilized' the place became, the better, in the view of one Missasri Bladecutter as she folded her hands into the sleeves of robe to keep warm from the chilly winter wind blowing up the slopes.

"Hmm, Hmm, Hmm...Menkins seeings yes-yes. What ares demanded of Menkin's for this hmmm?" the kobold asked bringing a clawed hand up to its mouth and gazed around either suspiciously or speculatively.

Master Karguk held his hands up in a 'relax' or 'let me explain' gesture "I know your one of Tucker's clan, I'd ask if you can me a good number of at least semi-skilled work gangs and tools over here to help in the building and for the others. I'll ensure your clan are compensated for that of course, but the main thing I want is for you to have rooms to rent like a proper inn and expand upon what you're doing already. Sparta clan rewards those who follow its rules and help build up our trade and prosperity let's say Menkin, and you've shown a good bit of initiative so far. This is the start of what I plan to be a large productive settlement...and having a decent sized tavern with an intelligent owner such as yourself is good start to that I think. The more you make the more we make in taxes, so I'm only looking to ensure your success in my own self interest to be entirely honest"

"Hsssh, hsssh..." Mussasri assumed the little lizard wizard was laughing with the hissing noise coming from its jaws while it looked around the area "...yes-yes can sees that's Menkin's makings coin and then orcs makings much from Menkins. Because Menkin's is best at running taverns yes-yes and would prefers having powerful friends in valley that has changed much yes-yes. So Menkin's agreeing and will send word to Menkin's clan and convincing King's sending on kobolds helpings here with Menkin's new tavern and with others Orc Wizard Karguk wanting builds"

"Good, good, I expect to start work on all this in the next few ten-days, we can the basement and foundation down pretty fast and aim to have you up and running by the summer in a finished building. You can mine at the cave if you want as well, just within limits of course and I'll expect your 'help' to my work crews in arranging it as you want. Ideally give me a rough drawing or outline of the inside in the next ten-day so I can something designed for it. I'd also say cooperate with the others getting buildings here as well, I'll meet everyone individually first and then have a joint one in a ten-day"

Missasri remained quiet as she watched the orc and kobold discuss a few more technicalities of their deal, with Master Karguk occasionally asking for her opinion on 'this or that' before the conversation ended and the kobold wizard wandered off. She, Master Karguk, Rose and his escort a few paces away remained as she looked out into the foggy valley beyond. Karguk glanced at her and Rose "I think that went well don't you? At least he's not arguing over being asked to move"

She snorted in amusement "Well he is getting a much bigger building after all Sir, he's hardly going to complain much about that in the end being honest. And if things don't work out he'll still have the place he's in right now over yonder" she pointed at the mist covered buildings off to her right at the moment. An ugly bunch of wooden structures that were frankly starting to stink somewhat she found.

"Sir, why are you going further down the slope when you were saying you wanted to make the area more...defen...defensible in nature last night?" Rose asked curious, stumbling over the word in orcish before getting a nod at her apparent success from her teacher of sorts in Master Karguk. Missasri grinned encouragingly at the girl as well, after all Rose was bright and cheerful girl and Missasri was glad to have her company these past few months.

Karguk hummed in thought a moment before motioning forward vaguely in the valley below "You can't see it from here well with all this blasted fog today but it's actually easier to fortify chokepoints further down than up here oddly enough. Right here is a solid enough rock-wall..." he tapped at the solid stone rearing up beside the cave entrance "...and all I need do is put some scaffolding and stairs to the top and seal off a few spots. It's similar on the far side as the slopes are like a messed up crescent shape so I just need fortify them somewhat and it's less work that trying to wall off where I'd planned. Then BAM!, got ourselves pretty secure defences on either side, with that steep slope up to the stronghold now protected as well by spikes and such as well. All I have to do then is build a crude wall between the two rock faces with gates, two in fact with that clump of rocks where it is, and it's narrower further out oddly enough..." he grinned "...conveniently it also lets me expand our arable land and secure animal pens both in and out a great deal. That old fucker Phargk has gotten us the One Eye's blessing...of sorts...so I'm building up some sort of defences I'd like here on that bit of an allowance"

Missasri nodded "Yes Sir is right in that, and Mistress Ogrash has been complaining the Keep is becoming very crowded" and smelly too she might have added from her journey's down into the 'Under-city' that was being excavated where she often trained with Master Karguk and Doctor Ned in the arcane arts.

Her orcish owner sighed, breath steaming on the cold air "Yeah and it's getting worse as our numbers are growing, and the children getting older and there bigger and bulkier. Zah and Old Breyjuk taking off the warriors has eased it again of course, but space is going to be an issue if we're not careful. So I'm going to build simple houses as well once we get the barebones of a properly laid out town put down, not just for my clan-orcs but for any non-orcs trading here from the other villages if I can tempt anyone with skills to even stay a few seasons. Petra that Alchemist from below us will be getting one as will Nimmil if she wishes it, with a small shop, for instance"

And he'd offered Missasri one as well if she wanted in the future, but she told him point blank no to that or to having her own room within the Shaman's Tower like said mousey alchemist, the gnome Nimmil, and Doctor Ned. Of course she'd said no...she was content with the current situation and how her circumstances within the household had become rather pleasant even at times. She was doing something worthwhile even like civilizing orcs and helping build a town, all while learning arcane mysteries she would never have learned elsewhere with her previous foolishness. Living here a little while longer after she was freed as promised in the seasons to didn't seem such a bad idea now to her shock...but she'd much rather stay in the rooms with Master and the others than living apart alone. That and returning home...scared her...Dargan and the others, what could she tell her parents? Their loved ones?

She shoved those thoughts away and edged closer to Karguk and hummed towards him in a friendly tone "Or perhaps you're merely seeking to get them out of the Tower so you can have more storage room for all your...clutter, as Mistress calls it Master. Perhaps that is the reasoning behind this town building?"

He snorted in amusement, shaking his head as Rose laughed softly beside him "Well that...may...have crossed my mind as well I'll admit. Though it's not clutter, it's...ahh...vital ingredients and stores for our magical research and skill development"

She huffed in amusement at that, after all she had helped catalogue and organise those stores, but aimed to direct the conversation towards getting back inside out of this cold "True Sir, and do you wish to return to our studies or have further meetings before that? I do believe you wished to study with Lady Nimmil on the nature of illusionary invisibility before your classes with the acolytes today?"

He frowned "Dang...yeah I did, nearly forgot that didn't I. Okay, lets...

--

[Zahgorim 15]

On the March, Northeast Crags

Keeping solid marching order on their small army was difficult he found as they trudged thrown the frozen pass towards their destination. The light snow flurries didn't help, along with the fogs that could roll in at anytime, but in truth it was the terrain itself that was slowing them...the wagons in particular of course, but there was little to be done about that. There would be little point in trying to march all this way if they were going to starve half way there after all. Still he was right in that the frozen ground helped somewhat in being able to move, they'd only lost one wagon from getting stuck, and they were making steady progress towards the Warlord Wyrmog and it was doubtful he was moving much in this weather. Or at least Zahgorim guessed so as he shook off the light dusting of snow from his plate armour and fur cloak; only the very well prepared or reckless fools marched to war in the frozen winter. Right now he wasn't sure which of those two choices he and his battle brothers were.

"Cold day ain't it?" Chief Jernak of the Moonblades grumbled to him as he came up to him. Zahgorim shrugged as he stopped to talk with his fellow warchief and the approaching other leaders.

"Yeah ain't it? Everyday has been fuckin' cold or really fuckin' cold since we left. Word back from the scouts I guess?"

"Little while ago, horse-orcs from my clan found sumin' of interest and we can decide upon it afore the we lost the rest of the night"

"Ah-rite then, let's step outta the way of the march then I guess" Zahgorim replied with a sigh, glad to have a chance to rest weary legs as his personal squad fell out of the march to stand guard alongside Jernack's own. Joined moments later by those under his fellow chief Old Breyjuk and that dangerous old shaman of the One-Eye as the wagons and warriors trudged by. They were making good progress this night at least, compared to others, with a clear half-moon in the sky and only a few light showers of snow to slow down the march through this small mountain valley.

"So youngin' yer scouts have returned eh? Is their word of good or ill?" the old shaman asked striding forward in his heavy robes, heavy looking magic war spear tapping off the frozen earth as he did so. Confident and powerful seeming as always his ancient frame Zahgorim saw. Old orcs were dangerous orcs after all, and this one particularly so as both Old Breyjuk and Karg were wary of his power and possible goals. Still right now the old shaman was the head of this army, albeit allowing Zahgorim, Jernak and Old Breyjuk to make the tactical and day-to-day plans. His own tribe's chief was a non-entity by and large; a big, burly and powerful warrior true...but dim in mind, and totally subservient to the Shaman in the way of such tribes. Indeed the Priest of Shargass, Mirrinock, indeed wielded more influence within the clan than the Chief himself very obviously to Zahgorim's eye.

"Ah, Holy One, my horse-orcs returned with word of what lies ahead and, of course, the kobolds continue to scout the valley walls alongside your own clan's brave warriors. What we've found is dead valley up ahead, snows covering alot but its clear enough place has been hunted out pretty badly. No signs of much, or any, animal life and they came across two burned out holdfasts, or maybe former villages. One about an hour or two's march from here and another nearly half a days, they only had a quick sweep but there was sign of fire and battle they think seasons ago"

Zahgorim glanced at the others "We've been marching pretty hard so I'd guess we've entered the ranges that the Horde of Wyrmog likely has been using to feed itself?"

Considering the size of the forces their warlord foe had raised, and then joined his clan over the winter, it was likely his clan and horde and ravished the lands surrounding his clans and nearby allies in order to build up winter stores and for the following campaigning seasons. If that was the case then the Fire Giant Orc and his clan would be feeling the pressure to descend upon the low lands in the year or so, or to try for Zahgorim's clan's territory to replenish their stocks first. In truth he would not have thought to have hit such yet as they were still some distance from their intended targets home at this marching speed. Evidently Wyrmog and his clan were either more pressured, or had been more successful at ferreting out these burnt out places, than they had expected.

Jernak rubbed evidently cold hands together to warm them as he replied "Ah'd figure so, we'll know fer sure when we reach the first village I'd expect but everthin' the boys have seen looks to be that been the truth"

"Was there any sign of enemy scouts youngin?"

"Nay Holy One, or at least no signs they say and me uncle and his fellas are experienced hunters at that. They said place be dead even fer the coldest of winters, no sign of beast or orc either"

The ancient shaman sighed, his breath steaming on the cold night air all around them "Course doesn't mean they or we weren't spotted along the way either youngin skill or not..."

Old Breyjuk hummed in thought before interrupting "Indeed Holy One, but chances are against many scouts being out in these conditions...indeed Warlord Wyrmog's very successes mean he and his are likely to stay close to home over the winter to rest and save their food stores. It might be best to rest our warriors here in this range before making one last push towards the Bearclaws and Blood Mists?"

Zahgorim nodded in agreement "Aye, I agree with my fellow clan-chief that it would be best to camp here, at either the first place or the second, then scout ahead and make our assault upon our foes. Or at the least we can study the ground we are to fight on and maybe lure them out to face us on ground of our choosing"

Honestly he himself would prefer to force Wyrmog to come to them, even better if they hid their own numbers till the last, and allow easier dealing with his Fire Giant allies if they were with him. It has hard to know would they have stayed with the Bearclaws, or the more likely situation of them having returned to their home village beyond one or two. Which would be the better situation was hard to know; would it best to try take them all in weather that weight against them so when they fell their strength as a tribe was broken too? Or to take them down in piecemeal and have an easier means to strike at their half-orc spawn with the hope his death would shatter his Horde and end their interests?

"Ah'd see no problem with such a plan, my boys fight best rested and fed ah find since becomin' Chief. Probably inna the furthest spot as supposed be the easier spot for the wagons, and for us to see from and defend as well, they said. Get a bit'a grub in us and see what we face as Chief Zahgorim says Holy One, brother Chiefs"

"Aye...aye, that doesn't seem so bad a plan fer these old aching bones in its ways...hehe...so let us press unto these destroyed places and camp for a day so we can prepare as ye all say. Perhaps even give time fer some blessings from the Gods to help us smite our foes eh? Never had so many loyal acolytes to work with before after all, and time for fer some vengeance upon that upstart heretic and his kin draws ever nearer so best be in our best shape fer the One Eye's blessing I'd say hehehe"

Old Breyjuk nodded "The blessings of the Gods would of course be welcome Holy Shaman in the battle to come I would agree, especially after my clan's battling of demons and other such abominations in past seasons with our own. Still I think we have a plan, but regardless of what scouts have seen or not seen best to keep extra careful watch between now and encamping. The mountains and hills have seen all manner of beasts and vile creatures roused by all the fighting so best to be on guard for more than just an orcish foe?"

Zahgorim nodded in agreement but largely let the other's discuss the matter as he watched one of the heavier war-wagons with these 'repeating ballista' upon it trundle by. A useful weapon and had helped in the slaying of one of those mentioned beasts and vile creatures disturbed by the war that had begun. Some sort of ghoul or ghast evidently that had mindlessly attacked the column. Hardly a threat but there had been sure signs of hungry direwolves and other creatures shadowing them as well.

Still there were greater beasts that could awaken out here and cost them loyal warriors even before the battle had begun if allowed the chance. After all; the marching column had a significant amount of food in these wagons and could only afford to lose so much in these bitterly cold and barren conditions. Still their fighting warriors were cooperating well together in the march; they and the Moonblades had fought well together before after all, so spirits were high after the ritual blessings and decisive move afterwards...

--

[Krowluc 12]

Eastward, Valley of Sparta

"Bloody cold...bloody mist, can't hardly see shit down off that direction...an' it's bloody cold" Bareyaras was whining again Krowluc noted with annoyance as his best (albeit also whiny) scout trotted towards he and the others as they warmed themselves around the fire pot here at the south-eastern watchtower. Then again it was bloody cold Krowluc found as angry grey clouds rolled towards them slowly from off in the distance. Looked like there was a storm coming in the next few hours if he had to guess from the feel of things; hardly ideal as it cut their scouting time down to nothing and would make life difficult for them. Still that just came with the job, and it'd be useful for testing how their training had gone with this lot at a point where they had a decent amount of supplies on them. Bareyaras being Bareyaras right now though was hardly ideal for morale as he turned towards the dismounting riders just returned.

"Oh quit your damned bitchin' Bareyaras, you're a squad leader now you whiny git. Remember that sometimes. That and looks like we've a heavy shower or storm rollin' on us soon so think as this as the pleasant fuckin promenade part of the day. So moaning aside what'ya got to report?"

He shrugged and jerked a gloved hand off in the direction he'd been scouting forward with the other three, who were now being allowed get at the fire pot to warm themselves somewhat and grab some rations "We pushed out a good bit, about just past the southern edge, and we found tracks and signs of group off in the distance as we were returnin', not sure how many, maybe hand and hand at most, but we did spot a figure in the orc sized range or bit bigger, afore they disappeared into the mists. Didn't want to push forward since ah' don't think whoever they were knew we were there since was afoot when we spotted'em..."

"And because ye lost sight of'em too..." Krowluc supplied with a grunt and glancing off in that direction; unfortunate they'd lost sight but better returning with a warning than risking running into a large group of bandits or creatures without the rest of them. At least here at the watchtower/palisade they had the support of the small force of orcs and goblins garrisoned here for the next three ten-days behind its crude wall. Of course they couldn't stay here with a possible storm or blizzard rolling into the Crags or they risked losing some of the horses without proper shelter for them in that sort of weather.

Bareyara's grimaced "And cuz we lost sight of'em too Captain yeah. Sorry bout that but reckoned best to come back with a warning than other choices on me plate at the time"

"No yer right to have headed straight back...hhhhahhhh...okay we're gonna need ride that way and swing in towards Zybelin's Drift before we get caught in the bad weather. They could be anything from enemy scouts to idiots looking to join up even with the shitty weather over the winter season, so we need to check it out before getting under cover. So ye four only get to rest a few moments, so catch yer breath, grab a bite, take a shit, or whatever ye need because we'll be moving out as soon as I get back from warnin' this lot here..." Krowluc replied before raising his voice for the rest of his riders who were resting around or near the horses "...RIGHT YOU LOT! GET READY TO RIDE AS WE MIGHT HAVE GUESTS IN THE VALLEY! FINISH UP WHATEVER YER AT AND BE READY WHEN I GET BACK!"

His answer of course was an almost collective groan from them but there was no true complaining from them and a few were already rising up and checking gear as he moved away. The 'watchtower' of course wasn't much of anything, but it was impressive in its own strange way he supposed crouching down as he entered the entrance. Which itself was just simple small cave with a wooden ladder up to the next level though easily defended thanks to sharpened wooden stakes on the riders up the slope and a mobile barricade as a door to stop an attacker. Great and all but it was a nuisance with the height of the entrance ceiling he found. Then that hundred odd metres stroll up the stake ring slope towards the ugly but well built wooden tower built into the stony hill with the cave-cum-barracks just to the side of it. One or two of the goblin guards saluted as he passed them almost making him want to snort in amusement; Spartan discipline – harsh enough to make these useless fuckers pretend their real soldiers. The commander of this tower, a grizzled oldster with only one arm named Gartosk looked at him as he approached "Trouble from the looks ah ye Captain Krowluc? Anythin' ah should be worried bout 'ere in might little corner of the valley?"

"Other than the bad weather rolling in? Yeah, Im' afraid so Warrior-Leader Gartosk. Sad to say me scouts just came back and have had sightings of someones or somethings lurking off south of us. Not too far, but I'm going to take the warband out and investigate, then head to the human village to hunker down, and warn'em, before the weather turns bad on us"

The oldster frowned eyeing the dark clouds off in the distance then looking southward "Dey say how many of'em there be?"

"Maybe a dozen they think, hard to say as they only got a glimpse of the outline of one in the mist. Orc size or bit bigger seemed to him and he's got elfy eyes at that. So I'd say to be on guard even when you shelter from the storm looks be coming"

"Ey, shame nowhere ta put yer horses but the food and booze ye brought are much ppreiated' Cap'in, I'll have the boys and gobbies be on guards for next whiles. Be goods as they've been restin' fuckin' ages afore ye lot came short while ago anyway, so yet lot head on and ah'll have the barricades closed up as usual. Dems gobbies ah mine may look like shit, but they can fight and stab with spear and crossbow in this place. And me and me squad can handle the real fightin' iff'in it comes ta it. If there be more foes than ye seen then our youngster can send word be dat magic scroll-thing de Shaman gave'm fer emergencies"

Krowluc nodded in understanding "Good to hear, I'll have someone to bring word on what we find when weather clears, or we'll swing back if need be when we check in on the other watchtowers for reports. If things turn bad I'll have the other half of our horse back in Sparta come out in support if ye, or we either, need it"

In truth it would only be a quick scout and move where Bareyara's group had spotted the figure. If they were friendly that'd be fantastic, if they were hostile but inferior that'd be fine and dandy for the bounties, an if they were too strong then it was falling back to Zybelin's Drift and it's walls and garrison as already planned. Considering he had twenty riders, two of them trainee spell-casters, with him he hoped he had enough to deal with whatever was lurking without too much difficulty. Still he would be cautious in regards the unknown visitors and of the dangers of being caught out in the open by lingering too long; it was easily cold enough for another blizzard to roll through the valley for a day or two. He took another glance northward as he moved back down the walk-able part of the defensive position; they had time to spare if they moved quickly but best not to talk any chances in delaying. And it seemed the old orc in charge of this place was thinking the same orders were being roared out behind Krowluc as he passed through the layers of the defensive position; barricades were thrown up and the few doors closed. Even his own band were standing ready when he strode out to them, some already on their mounts and ready to move, it seemed some of the training was sinking in even with the newest amongst them.

"RIGHT YOU LOT WE'RE MOVING! BAREYARAS YOUR IN THE FRONT, DARGUNK YOUR THE REAR AND MY SQUAD CENTRE WITH ME!" he roared out as he placed on foot into his mount's stirrup and pushed himself up to sit astride it. A bit simple in truth having the heaviest armoured in the middle with the lighter armoured but better archers/scouts to the front and rear...but the 'cavalry' was still a work in progress after the losses fighting the half-breed Warlord and then training inexperienced replacements up to scratch. Behind him the fire-pot in the open area was being extinguished and being brought back in by some goblins before the entrance closed itself up entirely behind them. At that stage he didn't care as they guided their mounts back down the hill path under the watchful eyes of those up on the wooden tower above them...

--

[Interlude 01]

The War in the Crags

--

The Conquering Warlord

'Fools' the Warlord thought to himself as he sat back on his throne of skulls and captured treasures and around his warriors waited out the storm inside his stronghold. A coalition of the weakling clans had seemingly rallied together under that old bastard of a shaman and his cronies to try catch he, and his clan, by surprise over the winter. Such actions displayed their desperation and weakness to risk such a mad venture over these lands shorn of forage and beasts to hunt. What kind of idiot attacked in the middle of winter after? It was like attacking in a snow storm; just fucking insane!

Now he would hardly have to do anything more than let nature kill them off for him and then sally out and butcher the frozen, starving, survivors in a day or so when the blizzard passed. They most likely had already been starving before the storm had started to roll in, and their weakness in failing to attack either during the night yesterday and this day had likely sealed their doom. They only ones amongst his warriors out on guard duty were stupid shits on punishment duty. He sneered at their idiocy. Well...they had tried of course but he had blocked them with his warriors and throwing those stupid goblin slaves at their lines; sure it cost a few hundred but hey...there was more where that came from and at least now he didn't have to feed them either. Win-Win really!

Not that feeding his warriors was proving difficult this winter with the great swatches of animals, slave-animals, harvest stores and wagons to haul them that his Mighty Horde alongside the actually valuable loot. So even now his warriors ate heartily amidst the warm caves and old stone buildings as those stupid fools starved and froze their arses off outside in the storm. And fought to prove who was strongest as he watched the pair before him roar at each, then clash, axes and claws swinging over who go fuck the pretty female for the first time. Or something like that, he wasn't really interested as the weaker warrior had his skull smashed in with an axe stroke.

Fucking weakling; his Horde was better off without such as the stronger of the new recruits grabbed the screaming female by the hair as he warriors roared their approval at his strength. Well and the clothes being torn off the female too. Blood and Tits were always good to keep up the mood in the calm he found downing a mug of Mrogh; especially after his warriors didn't get to butcher those upstart fools in glorious battle. He belched. Orcs were such fucking morons at times he found; useful because they were obedient stupid fucking morons who served him. Didn't want any uppity fuckers' like that old shaman bastard and his minion in his ranks after all; they might get to thinking about things and other crimes against him in that vein.

'I'll make sure I get the fuckers this time, then I'll wipe out their clans and show their stupid weakling Gods who rules these mountains and orcs now' he reminded himself backing handing the stupid human serving him the drink for spilling some of it. A glance told him the bleeding pile was still alive from the blow from the whimpering. Which was good, he like how this one hollered and sobbed when he fucked it and its whelp. Hopefully they lasted a bit longer than the last few - it'd be months before he'd be able to capture more of them to make up those who'd died over the winter...

--

The Light of the Coming Dawn

A storm was rolling in with all its howling fury, but evil must be purged from this world regardless of the dawn being hidden by the angry clouds or shining in all the bright glory of the Lord. She drew her blades as the winds howled down the mountains beyond; their crimson tinged magic pulsing in the pre-dawn light. Before her the battered remnants of her father's clan huddled around nervously alongside her battle-brothers and sisters, and those men-at-arms she had hired with help from Mirabar. Strength must be displayed now to those who had seen her father exile her in favour of her wicked weakling brother and the evil ways that had led them to this dire situation. But not the weakness ended, now the taint would be purged!

"BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN BATTLE! BRAVE CLANSMEN! THE DARKNESS OF EVIL HAS COME UPON THEE! FOOLS AND COWARDS IN THEIR WICKEDNESS HAVE LED THEE TO THIS DARK PLACE! BUT FEAR NOT! NEVER FEAR! FOR THE DAWN WILL COME AND THE DARKNESS WILL FLEE!"

She thrust her blades forward at those dozens of figures stood bound and gagged to prepared bonfires. Her voice roared over the howling of the winds with the aid of her companion skilled in the arcane arts.

"BUT FIRST WE MUST PURGE THE EVIL IN OUT MIDST! FOR THEIR WICKEDNESS WILL SAP OUR STRENGHT AS IT SAPPED MY BROTHERS! AS IT SAPPED THE OTHER CLANS! FOR NO ORCS OR OTHER VERMIN CAN DEFEAT US IN OUR FULL POWER AND GLORY! THE BLOOD OF HEROES BURNS IN OUR VIENS! THE BLOOD OF HUMANITY! THE TRUE! THE PURE! THE STRONG!" she waved her blades at those men, women, and child bound to the ceremonial fires

"BUT THESE TRAITORS BURN NOT WITH THAT FLAME OF GLORY! NAY! IT IS WICKED EVIL THAT BURNS IN THEIR HEARTS! SEEN WITH THE POWERS OF THE GLORIOUS ONE ABOVE! AND NOW WE SHALL CLEANSE THAT TAINT! THAT WEAKNESS! WE SHALL PURGE IT! WE SHALL SMITE EVIL!"

Dozens of voices from similarly attired men and women rose with hers, as her blades were raised in salute to the one most holy to them; and for a moment the darkness and howling storm seemed to silence as the light of The Dawn brought through and shone upon them his loyal servants. Rapturous joy filled her frame as the bonfires of the wicked erupted into flame by their holy power.

"SMITE EVIL! SMITE EVIL! SMITE EVIL!"

She raised her blades proudly above her head, fiery seemingly from back "VICTORY WILL COME! THE DAWN WILL COME! FOR WE ARE THE LIGHT THAT WILL PURGE THE WICKED! WE ARE THE COMING DAWN THAT ENDS THE NIGHT! LET OUR FOES TREMBLE! LET GOOD PREVAIL!"

It would be a harsh task, with little reward and much effort. But it was the duty of all good people to purge evil from the world whatever the cost. It started here on this day and no matter the cost to her she would see it through to till the new day dawned...

--

Vengeance Made Flesh

It seemed that perhaps the clan leaders he had managed to marshal were slightly less than sane. Then again the ancient priest figure by now he himself was less than truly sane for listening too, and then agreeing with, their somewhat insane battle plan. But then again one didn't get anywhere without in this world by trying to do the 'sane' thing all the time. So here he stood leaning on his spear as the wind and snow howled angrily down the valley reducing his sight and ability to hear to just before him.

Or it would have been if not for the ranks upon ranks of warriors packed close together, with a few of these 'war-wagons' space between warbands, shields locked together as the strode step-by-step towards the currently unseen stronghold before them. That helped reduce the screaming winds to merely annoying alongside the "SHIELD TIME! SPEAR TIME! KILLING TIME!" chant being repeated again and again all along around him as the warriors marched forward in bizarrely disciplined ranks. Even if he could barely hear it over the howling of the oncoming blizzard; one that was increasing in intensity with each passing hour.

The youngin' Chieftain had proposed this, and the old one had backed him up, and so they had held back from simply charging up the slopes thick with enemy warriors earlier in the night. Instead they would wait till the coming of the wicked dawn and assault then through whatever was thrown at them...while the old priest's loyal minions eliminated any watchers upon the wooden walls. Yes they would be blinded and slowed by the bad weather, but gone now were the enemies on the rocks to the flanks, gone were those before them as step-by-step hundreds of booted feet marched up the slope.

Before them he could feel the magic of the servant of the Night-lord from his clan; guiding them inch by freezing inch towards the large stronghold of the one who had betrayed him and the Gods. And none got to betray him or the Gods and live in all the years he had lived. Now was his final chance to prove to his God he was worthy. And that started with burning out this fool of backstabber and his heathen kin; who would be weakened by the cold as the youngin' and the others suggested. They may be a fire that burned in the night...but that would be extinguished as would all the others who challenged his new Horde.

Still right now all that lay before them was a shrieking wall of whiteness; he snarled out adjustments to move slightly to the left and then matched by others all along the line as the whole force lurched slowly to do so. Never before had he access to so many spell-casters, or more accurately spell-casters who were acting more like loyal warriors than causing chaos with their bickering in the ranks. Instead they would all them to sow chaos amongst the ranks of the enemy when they broke over the still unseen walls, and just as he had down impart the blessings of the Gods upon these warriors to ignore the cold and blindness. And so he marched with them through that shrieking blizzard, up the hill on a seemingly never-ending advance into nothingness...

...till dark objects seemed to look out of the white swirling haze, a flicker of dark on white...gone then back, howling wind seeming to reduce as if they were under some little shelter. He could feel the guiding light of the Night Lord's own near, so tantalisingly close yet there was no...and then looming mere metres before them were the wooden walls of the stronghold. Hardly tower structures, but taller than any orc as the battle line around him started to stagger and falter in confusion as they neared. Shouts back to slow and stop. For ladders and magic, to brace the 'wagon-stairs' and such; idly he noticed his own among them even as they seemed mere whispers on the screaming wind. And he was climbing, step by step up the ladder. Upward, ever upward and over the wall despite the raging white blizzards urge to push him back and down. But mere weather would not stop his vengeance as he jumped down over the wooden wall. Dozens, hundreds were joining as black shadows against the white background, but none yet ran to oppose them. No screams of challenge. He smiled darkly, one good eye alight as warriors formed up around him. Killing time had come again. The Gods willed it...

--

Notes:

Slightly different format; this is my 'interlude' one we'll call it.

[Zahgorim 16]

Bronzeforge Holdfast

The snow crunched under his feet as he landed. Just barely managing to brace himself on impact as he went to one knee after almost falling over thanks to the howling wind. With a snarl of annoyance he reoriented himself now that the white bleakness of the blizzard was reduced (slightly) within the walls of his enemy's stronghold; standing back up and holding his Magic Axe ready alongside his shield. Around him others of his warriors were likewise either landing, or moving to form up around him. Unfortunately this was much more chaotic than he'd have liked – marching through the snowstorm and then getting into the camp was proving much harder than he'd envisioned. Still the majority seemed to have reached here along with him and those assassins of the Old Shaman had done their job and silently eliminated the watchers...

...or at least he assumed they had. The wind was howling, he was having to roar out orders just for those nearby to hear him; the Bearclaws could be aware of them and he just couldn't tell right now. So he focused on forming up those who were nearest to him, getting a broken ankle of one healed at his order as he tried to figure out where he was in relation to the enemy gate and caves. Sadly though that thought process was ended temporarily as flash of light came through the swirling white flakes against a dark shape of a structure of sorts. Instincts took over at that stage; orders emerged from his mouth, his axe swung in the direction what he assumed were barracks and storerooms...someone was emerging he assumed and the time to plan was over. Now was the time to act, to kill and let the blood fly where it must. A battle cry erupted from his mouth as he raced forward through the shrieking blizzard towards the flicker of light in the flurry of crisp white flakes.

Two orcs clad in heavy furs with face and body covered by these furs as striding out from said building wielding spear and axe respectively. Or at least they were till they froze at the sight of a dozen armoured figures emerging from the shrieking storm with the plate clad figure of Zahgorim of Sparta at their lead. Sadly a mistake neither lived to regret as the Spartan warchief's shield smashed into the face of the nearest edge on. With a sickening crack unheard over the winds the impact hit home with such force that it sent the young orc slamming backward into the wooden wall. The blow would fatal as his neck snapped from the double impacts; though in truth he was merely the second to die that night from the younger Spartan chieftain; for his older comrade had already lost his head as the enchanted blade sliced through the mail coif at his neck to send the head flying off to land nearby. Around Zahgorim a score of his guards raced into the large circular building screaming warcries and with weapons at the ready...

Shouts of surprise, swearing and the screams echoed out faintly from the building over the wind as those Bearclaw warriors inside met the same fate as their compatriots. In the end the only difference being they died booze in and hand, around a warm fire, while their compatriots had died grumbling in the cold wind with an empty belly. Not that Zahgorim of Sparta cared at that moment beyond the enemy was dying at the hands of his warriors and not the other way around. No he was busy hammer his weapon off of his shield to get attention and calling for his warriors. Those of whom that weren't charging into building to slaughter enemies and were still milling around him to form up into ranks and ready some sort of organised battle formation. Soon three dozen or just over were before him, shields locked together and spears out as the sounds of battle nearest to him started to rise even about that of the wind. Figures emerged out of the snowy street just before him...

"HOLD! HOLD!" he roared at the warriors around him as orcs in the garb of those that served the Night Lord's shaman moved towards them bloody blades at the ready. Seeing them the nearest pointed behind him and shouted something that was consumed by the wind, then evidently noting he was unheard shouted again and waved his blade back in that direction. While Zahgorim still did not understand the words exactly over the shrieking snowstorm what he did get plus the motioning indicated that they meant enemies were over there in numbers most likely. He nodded his helmet head and waved his weapon back in a sign of agreement as more Illuskan warriors appeared from the walls and joined his in a battle line or fighting in the wooden huts and barracks. Taking that as a sign from him the three allied orcs moved to fall into formation with his warriors, roaring a battle chant he ordered them forward...

...it was a chaotic confused mess he found as the cave that was nearby disgorged dozens of disorganised orcs who ran screaming at his own. To die mostly he found as they slammed into the wall of braced shields and spear-points and came to a shuddering halt as Zahgorim himself was amidst his battle brothers absorbing the enemy charge. Spears and blades lashed out into the howling, shrieking, mass that was held back by the wall of shield as the solid block of warriors held the charge; beginning to bring their training and formation to bear upon their foe...

...this was no battle but a slaughter now Zahgorim found as more and more allied Illuskan warriors, from both the Moonblades and Night-tombs, surged into battle alongside his own. It seemed the gates had been opened, and more importantly advancing far flank that'd gotten lost in the blizzard had found it and surged through to join those already inside. Those Bearclaw warriors that had surged out of the side cave to attack his fighters were now long dead; as were those who had been further in the cave as he'd send veteran squads into those smaller caves back up by shaman apprentices. If anything the cramped space and restricted movements from this was working in their favour as squad discipline and magic butchered those unused to fighting a force like his in territory that suited them. Bright flashes in the swirling snows had caught his attention though and he had led a large force of the new arrivals in this direction – only to find the snow stained red by a carpet of dead enemies as the Old Shaman and dozens of warriors, from differing clans of the alliance, strode towards he and his hundred odd fighters.

"AH YOUNGIN, BATTLE GOES WELL YES?" came over the winds as they drew together and two forces merged together and began to reorientate back towards the caves and other side of the camp. It seemed in confusion they had charged off to the eastern wall rather than into the heart of the camp. While one Fire Giant had been slain they had seen no sign of the Warlord Wyrmog and his heretical allies.

"WE'RE BUTCHERING THEM! THEY DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WE WHERE 'ERE TILL WE WERE INSIDE KILLIN'EM ALL! BUT WE NEED TO BREAK INTO THE MAIN CAVES AND DEFENCES HOLY ONE! OUR BATTLESTAVES ARE HELPING FIGHT INTO THE SIDE CAVES BUT THE MAIN ONE IS OVER...THERE SOMEWHAT!"

Truth be told Zahgorim no Gods-damned idea how the battle was going as a whole; bar they seemed to be winning as best they could tell. They must have slain hundreds of Bearclaw and their allied warriors in the assault judging by all the bodies that seemed to be strewn about by the battle. That and the fighting out here in the area between the walls and the caves the fighting was largely over as he and the ancient shaman led an attack upon the hilly area to their flank. Brutal fighting as Zahgorim lost track of time – the Bearclaws were berserkers, screaming and frothing at the mouth as they charged and fought like lunatics as they shrugged off blows that would kill most lesser orcs outright. But he and his elite guard were clad in the heaviest armour that Karg could muster, along with the best wards Zahgorim's friend could impart, and in that bloody war of attrition it was the Bearclaws who lost. While they seemed to shrug off blows the truth was they we're still bleeding even if they apparently didn't feel them; but the stabs and slashes never stop as the armoured ranks pressed ever forward and magic was brought to bear once again upon them...

...till they were fighting their way into the inner defences of the stronghold from above as others attacked from the main square as well. His axe had been replaced by a spear as his clan-orcs ground their forward in a constant cycle of block with shield, stab with spears, block, stab, block, stab...as the corridors ran with orcish blood so much only the fighting formation stopped him slipping at times. Boot feet strode over corpses of slain foes as pressed downwards into a larger open area as the increasingly desperate defenders threw themselves howling at him and his. Mostly just to join the rest of their fellows as corpses that his armoured feet had to awkwardly stomp over to continue the advance - inside the caves the sounds of battle and screams created a cacophony of fearful noise.

Block. Stab. Block. Stab. Block. Stab. Keep pushing forward!

And then, as if by magic, the fighting was over...

"Where is the Warlord?" he snarled striding forward with the old shaman as dozens of Bearclaw warriors threw down their weapons in surrender. This was the inner chamber, a large domed area large enough for a Fire Giant and his spawn...yet they were surrendering. If anything it looked like they'd been in the middle of a great feast not too long ago from all the food and drink scattered about from when they'd tried to surge out and resist their attack. Beside him the ancient shaman was glaring around in search of their foe as beyond the cavern area Zahgorim could hear females and whelps. From above the sounds of battle still echoed, but were diminishing rapidly as they kicked at the younger warriors here for answers. They had none...

...sadly the truth arrived a while later as the sounds of fighting above ended and a blood soaked cleric in the garb of the Night-Lord slowly walked into the room and rest against the wall asking to be healed. The ancient shaman Phargk strode up to him seeking answers first and offering healing after "Mirrinock, you have word from above?"

"Aye Master, the Warlord has fled into the storm with some warriors and his giant-kin. Came charging outta the caves from a path hidden by magic...though we had'em trapped but then that big fuckin' priest of theirs turned space between us into an inferno and by time we beat it down they were'll gone out this passage..."

Zahgorim cursed loudly alongside the ancient shaman. Then took a deep breath; they'd failed and now the traitorous coward would flee to his Giant-kin. Still they had captured his holdfast, his females and his treasures and won a great victory...which would help in the coming war they'd aimed to end in one blow. Maybe it would break the Horde, or it might not. It would take long for the other clans to realise the events here...maybe longer to even believe them. He turned towards the two shamans, signalling to get Old Breyjuk and Jernak if they still lived. What mattered now was waiting out the storm, looting everything that wasn't nailed down and then return home after burning this place to the ground...

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