In My Time of Troubles

by Crossposted

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

20. Entry 20

[Vaerier 04]

Menkin's (Magical) Tavern and Apothecary, Sparta

Her collar thrummed faintly. The flickering bright light upon her face was the indication that was time to get up and ready for another day and night of servitude. She blinked awake with a yawn as she enjoyed the last few moments of the comfortable furs and sheets upon her skin. It was nice and warm and comfy under them, despite the cramped space she had been given. A side effect of her and her daughter's owner being both a kobold and evidently focused upon using every possible bit of space as efficiently as possible within the tavern. Or the current tavern at least, she thought as she rubbed her tired eyes and yawned again. Still , she'd gotten used to it, and it wasn't like her owner slept on a vast sprawling bed either: she wouldn't want the kobold-sized one that he really used. For some bizarre reason she found it was at least a small consolation, as she rolled out from her bed-space to stretch and rub her tired muscles.

As best she could tell from the light streaming into the storeroom that served as her bedroom it was morning, before High Sun at the latest. Still she had an exercise routine to complete, one that had become well established, and she began to move swiftly through the various push-ups, stretches and jumping motions set out to maintain her and her daughter's strength. Purely for her owner's own goals of course: she'd found in her life to date that no smart farmer wanted unhealthy livestock . Thankfully time flew by rapidly as she finished the last action with a grunt of effort and wiped off the sweat off her body after dampening a cloth in the bucket of scented water. Skimping out on the routines, otherwise known as 'disobedience', had always been caught with a swift application of a charm spell and it had been months now since she'd failed to perform them. That and ensure she didn't 'reek' of the exertion on her 'monkey hide' to her draconic blooded owner when she arrived in his presence.

Something that was mere moments away as she chugged the potion vial, then walked out of the store room and headed towards the room where her Katya and Master Menkin awaited. While she had been placed to 'guard' the storeroom and handle the heavier work tasks, her Katya handled their owner's orders whatever the time. Things had been rather hectic since the coming of spring after all, with this new tavern being constructed in some deal between her owner and the orcs who ruled from the fortress above them. It seemed she would have to spend more time fixing the floor boards to avoid splinters, she thought as her bare feet moved lightly over them as she quietly opened her owner's door and entered the room. Her daughter was already awake, kneeling in a corner near their owner, who himself was sitting at his makeshift desk writing something. As he didn't glance at her or give her an order she knelt in an identical position to Katya and waited, and waited, and waited... Apart from the occasional interruptions as Feuryon was sent scurrying back and forth to get various items for Master Menkin to place in a large pack beside him, for a time all he did was write and ignore the two women.

"Fueryon that is all for nows, perform your exercises and start cleanings Menkins place. Menkins be gones fors little whiles but if there's troubles, gets guards to tells Menkins. Vaerier, come here and haul this baggage for Menkins so we goings." His sudden words woke her from the rather tedious and uncomfortable kneeling. It seemed she wouldn't yet have a chance to talk to her Katya today. Instead she lifted the rather heavy pack over her shoulder and followed her diminutive owner out the door into the still empty tavern beyond. Quick instructions to put on her heavy pair of boots and 'outdoor work garbs' followed as Master went about checking his 'wards' and that the place was clean from last night's service. As he did so she quickly did as she was told, throwing on a light tunic and leggings alongside the boots, before placing the pack upon her back and waiting at the doorway. The sooner they left, the sooner they'd be finished and then the sooner they would return for some food before opening for another day.

Outside the sky was bright and clear. I was a sunny spring day - but hardly a warm one, she found as she glanced around the town as it slowly came to life. While dawn and sunset were often the busiest times in terms of guard shifts and warriors, it was really between the middle of the day and the early hours of the night that most of the market trading began in the stronghold. Orcs and goblins were night creatures, while humans and other non-orcs largely preferred the daylight hours, so the evening and early night had seemed to become the busiest trading hours while they themselves were busiest as night fell. A squad of heavily armed orcs walked by them as she trudged behind her owner obediently. Behind them they passed a work gang of a mixture of larger goblins, one or two orcs, and three human women, all in chains. She avoided looking at them: some were defeated, some jealous, and a tiny handful sometimes held something hateful in their gaze when they looked at her as they were lead towards the terraces or the construction work on the lower slopes.

There was a hierarchy of sorts emerging amongst slaves within the stronghold, and those in her position had to be as wary of those below them as of their owners. She even heard that one or two of the former guardswomen enslaved from Luskan had fought for the 'honour' to be taken as a concubine of the older orc Chief in the stronghold. What's worse was that... It was seemingly a much easier life than that of a field slave unlike in most orc villages. As best Master Menkin understood it (and explained it to her Katya) the more successful orcs of the clan seemed to be copying the behaviour of the Shaman and younger Chief in their households. And some people were always much more willing to work on their back than in the harsh fields if the orcs weren't going to murder and eat them out of hand. After all she'd seen how the 'slaves' of the Shaman were treated... She held back a sigh as she trudged past two chatting riders, a human and an orc. Gods above her owner had trained her in well, she noted as she almost felt relief at her current position and at the fact that the temporary slave auction they were approaching meant more workers rather than anything else.

These were the skilled or 'attractive' amongst those taken several ten-days ago it seemed, as she glanced at the dozens being lined up for sale. There weren't yet many prospective buyers: she could see several orc warriors who'd saved their pay or were young and unmated, a goblin, another kobold like her Master (albeit more poorly dressed), and even one or two human villagers it seemed. Around them the slaves were also varied: some were attractive orc females, some were goblins that had likely been field slaves, and she saw and a cluster of humans (mostly women), and even two halflings or maybe gnomes as well. All had been shorn of their clothing, and seemingly given a quick cleaning down if deemed 'pretty' enough to justify it. Mostly the orcish ones she noted as they came to a stop. Evidently these were ones taken from the stronghold of this Warlord Wyrmog being sold by the Night-tombs and several of the smaller orc bands. Master Menkin led her up to a burly looking orc who was evidently in charge of this merry little nightmare, who nodded to her owner.

"Oi Menkin inn'it? Boss said ye were'a comin' bout lookin' at da merchandise"

Her kobold owner nodded and rested his staff against his colourfully robed form. "Yes, Iz is Menkins, this is Vaeriers. Nots for sellings, buts havings much goods and coin as promises Chief and Shaman of Mighties Spartas. Iz is allows choosings firsts picks as they promises?"

The burly orc nodded resting back against the wooden fence behind him and thumbing his hand back towards the slaves huddled together. "Aight, ye are' me boyo. Boss Karguk tellin' me, and thens Priestess Ogrash ahh-welllss. Ye and fews others on da lhist fer wha gets de cream of da crop dis lot."

"Goods, yes-yes, goods to hears. Nows showings Menkins, Vaeriers givings you payment. Is in sack. Vaeriers hands overs." Master instructed her, and she with some relief handed over the pack of coins, potions, scrolls and other items that were evidently payment for new slaves.

She of course remained silent and submissive as the orc checked through the back, compared it to a wooden slate with scribbles on it and talked to Master Menkin. It seemed all was in order, and after a brief conversation between the two she was following them into the temporary pens amongst the poor wretches held within. Sadly she could relate, it had been... Only a few seasons? Two years?... More?... Since she had been in their place. What's worse it seemed was that she was to be an active part in helping her owner choose from amongst them as he ordered her to ask questions and to test for skills that would serve in slaves beneath her in the new tavern. She forced herself not to flinch or sigh miserably at the news that she was to help in both finding and 'training' the new additions to the tavern. Or the fact that she was partly relieved by this and was seeking out ones with uses but that weren't going to threaten her or her daughter's position. From that perspective, and her owner's too it seemed, the older orcish women and the goblins were out of the running. For the first it was largely because they were unlikely to easily accept a position serving a kobold, and then the second lacked most all of the skills needed for such a role.

It also turned out that the two short women were a halfling and a gnome, which meant the second was automatically off the list as it stared fearfully at Master Menkin. However the first had the needed skills, or was somewhat close to having them: she'd worked as a travelling circus performer. Or more accurately ticket seller or 'announcer' to one it seemed, before its demise at the Orc Warlords hands. Whatever the case she was the first one purchased, sobbing softly as she was given a metal leash that Franja found herself holding to her discomfort as they moved along from one slave to the next. It was soul numbing, asking questions of them, especially the one or two younger men. She avoided looking at them, and felt naught but guilt at excluding them automatically in her mind and that of her Master. In the end two more slaves were to join the workforce, a young orcish girl and a human girl about her Katya's age. The first because she was young enough to be trained according to her own, and the second, well...

--

When: 1355 Dale Reckoning, Middle of Spring

Where: Goblin Village of Tach-Rhuulmech (I think that's how it's spelled, goblins)

I'm just going to call it goblin-town for the moment because it sounds like you're either cursing or threatening someone when you actually pronounce it. Evidently letting goblins name settlements and landmarks was a mistake. I pity the map makers who will have to do a proper naming and layout of the valley... Which will probably be me at some point. Then again many of my own people's settlements sound like that in the Spine, so I probably shouldn't criticise goblin names. Or my own super-duper (crappy) naming convention attempts. Anyway, at least I've only got one settlement of them to deal with thanks to my own unintentional efforts throughout the valley since we solidified our power-base.

I'd kinda known it had happened but didn't realise it had happened as quickly as it did: Zah had been the one to come here and collect their tithe of warriors after all, and I'd somewhat heavily focused on the human villages and the kobolds because they were... well... to put it bluntly, they were simply more productive, more industrious and more skilled at pretty much all things than goblins. Still, evidently some of them are more intelligent or cunning than I'd guessed: there's been a 'town' forming up around the valley's one salt mine and all its lovely, lovely, rock salt. When I say it's our unintentional efforts I meant it in the sense that we wiped out (well decimated and enslaved respectively) the two largest goblin tribes that had been dominating the valley, and this 'town' is essentially the collective merger of several tiny clans and the various survivors.

Funny story there actually, I mean not ha-ha funny but just weird funny. Sorry, I'm rambling. Basically wars with goblins can be quasi-religious sometimes as a few of their pantheon sorta hate all orcs. Sadly one or two are ones I'd actually be inclined to tolerate otherwise like Bargrivyek the Peacemaker for example: he hates orcs and wants peace between all goblin clans so he can wipe us out, basically. If they'd put aside the hate I'd happily tolerate them, but they're a rebellion waiting to happen at best and an invertebrate enemy at worst. Hence the resistance to our expansion and rejection of our entreaties off the bat thanks to the workings of his (now dead) shamans and those of Maglubiyet. So we stomped on them. Stomped on them really fucking hard in fact, which has all led to this rather odd setup here in goblin-town.

We've barred worship of these gods, or to be more truthful we slaughtered or enslaved all the true believers and left the clerics of Meriadar, God of Patience, Tolerance and other not-evil stuff in charge via a strange alliance with those of Khurgorbaeyag the Enslaver, God of Oppression, Slavery and oddly enough Morale. Not that God number two doesn't hate our orcish hides as well, but unlike the other (now dead) gobshites that served as clerics his own had the wisdom to go "I for welcome our new orc overlords!" and follow orders. Yes they are a threat and rebellion risk, but they do favour turning goblin troops into something other than useless cannon fodder. After all that's why I have garrison forces and a well trained army to crush any such rebellion.

For now its fine as they fixed (immediate) problems for me in killing off the strongest worshippers of the other orc hatin' goblin gods for us. It'll take time for them to secure control of the obvious attempt to mimic Sparta or Zybelin's Drift. Plus they're all in the one spot now, and doing stuff we wanted without us demanding it. I'm undecided really if this is really good or really bad. So for the moment we've settled for giving them a balance of threatening and bribery in a way my former life's feudal ancestors probably lived and breathed. The first with our warriors and the second with 'gifts' and blah, blah, blah, talks about fancy titles for the 'Count' of goblin-town dude. That and we had Rose, Wifne, and Hippy-Dippy bless their fields. Honestly I should call her Holaywn as she's not as bad considering the whole Druid thing. And Doctor Ned is really popular regardless of species. Evidently telling them he makes boobs and dicks bigger gets you treated as some sort of blessed one. Go figure. Anyway on that note I must go as time for 'practical magic' training with the aforementioned Doctor and Missy. And distract Darth Phargk from incinerating some goblins.

--

When: Spring, Year of the Harp (Like our Banner!)

Where: Zahgorim's Conquest

I still can't get over how he managed to convince us to let him name it that. It just makes me blink 'huh?' everything I come here see the actual sign he had made with the name written on it. Honestly I'm surprised he didn't add 'and fuck you Karg! Hahahaha!' at the end. Darth Phargk and the other "VIP's" from the other clans (the minor ones) were all impressed with it of course. Or least they appeared to be and had a drink about it.

Zah's concubine Hippy... Holwyn, is of course happy to be back of and walk amongst her villagers. I thought they'd hate her, or be rejecting after the whole 'bedding Orc Warchief' thing but her welcome was rather warm and sympathetic. Evidently some people are decent enough at heart to understand the sacrifice she's making on their behalf. Zah's a friend but I'm not blind to his ways even if he treats his concubines like prized possessions thanks (hopefully) to mine and Oggy's advice. We of course got some wary looks, aimed mostly at those not wearing Spartan sigils, but nothing like the numb terror that greeted us in the first days with them.

Several of the braver ones were even eager to try trade with us shortly after our arrival. Fair dues to them, and I'm happy enough with the development of the second human village: fields are starting to be properly expanded, buildings are solid enough and we've got a functioning (if tiny) cottage industry starting up. Even the wall surrounding it, plus barracks, are looking pretty solid (if ugly looking) with their "earth and wood" design. Been practicing my warding on it earlier tonight, so I had a good look. It should hold off most raids or small to moderate assaults.

I've been talking to Wifne and Holawyn about one seeming issue in regards the place. One I can relate and understand as we have a similar one albeit for different reasons. Basically there are far more women than men living amongst them after the fact the Uthgardters attacked them before... well... our lot turned up and conquered them right afterwards. It's not overwhelming of course but there are a significant number of widows here in Zybelin's Drift as well as girls coming of age just like in Sparta. The fact that we're taking the men-folk away as vassal levies doesn't help those numbers much either. So the two village Elders want to have a "marriage festival" between their villages and really want to assure me that they are seeking permission and don't want to "arouse our wrath" with it.

It's fine by me, we have decent enough garrisons and I can firm it up with Ghorza in a few days. Up till now the hard-work of rebuilding their village here and fear of us orcs has focused their minds away from losses in their lives and other such things. Like inbreeding as Rose blurted out when Wifne left the room, as well as the few incidents of our females and their younger drunker men hooking up like this 'Egar' fellow she mentioned. So it's not a sudden outbreak of lonely women but a rather rational (cold even) decision to try seeking out security for themselves and their offspring. Medieval peasant life tends to be pretty shit let's say, especially on this happy death-world. Missy and Rose thought it was a good idea and Rose suggested I be visible at it as being in charge of the whole thing as the 'Boss' of sorts. Good idea, should have thought of it myself: it'll allow me to show authority without clashing with Darth Phargk who is very much in charge of our alliance.

I've tried hard to impress the value of my 'reforms' (ie not murdering or enslaving all non-orcs on sight) and the benefits of maintain quasi-free vassal villages like this and the others. Each providing various resources to fuel the stronghold and freeing up more and better equipped warriors for battles. Really I'm back to my farms feeding our armies, roads letting them move faster and allowing trade while more trade means more resources and coin to create industry to better arm and armour those armies. The Moonblades are (mostly) on my side of the organisation argument and I've had much time in the past ten-days to persuade the One Eye's powerful cleric to let me spread this doctrine as we advance. Mostly so he isn't torturing and murdering the Nine Hells out of every possible vassal we encounter in the future. Like that poor wretch Lua is trying to help. I think I'm making progress but it's not entirely sure yet. Only time will tell I'd guess, and it might all be pointless if we go down in defeat.

Must go, Missy wants to start going through today's arcane study. Time flies it seems.

--

When: Spring, 1355DR

Where: Southward area of valley, just out of Zah's Conquest

Short entry I'll admit but news to remember. Gnolls turned up with wolf pelts (and tattooed orc head but he's an enemy so thumbs up to that) and news of two things. Small raiding band of Red Mist orcs who they wiped out – head and some ears proof of this. Paid them for that and gonna get'em their halberd reward as well when we return home.

Main news is a group of riders, with wagons, several hours to our south (or they were before the Gnolls started to return towards the Stronghold and blundered into us). Basically they were out on the other side of the valley mountains so they'll either come through the eastern pass or more likely the southern one, assuming wagons and the direction we think they were coming from is correct. I think it's the Longsaddle crowd but can't be too sure yet. I've sent a runner back for Krowluc's cavalry and to warn the garrisons to be on watch. Going to continue to Zybelin's Drift and meet Ghorza. We'll see what we've got later today or tomorrow.

--

[Krowluc 13]

Southern Edge of the Valley

"Go out and make sure that they are the Longsaddle lot we're expecting - or at least go and find out who they are. If it is them, or they're not a hostile bunch, bring'em here if you can. If not and they're raiders, well, deal with'em if possible and if you can't, let me know." Those had been the only instructions the Shaman had given him and his cavalry when they'd arrived after been summoned from the stronghold. A hard ride to Zybelin's Drift, a quick rest, and then they'd been off again towards where this group of wagons and riders had appeared at the edge of the valley.

When the orders had reached him he'd hoped that these intruders would have already arrived at a watchtower or the nearby human village. But sadly, no such luck: the "few hours away " reported by the "scouts" had evidently been measured as the raven files rather than via wagon travel routes and speeds. So even with the time it took them to arrive at Zybelin's Drift and rest, it seemed that the newcomers hadn't moved very far into the valley - at least according to the lookouts of the village they'd just left who had spotted flickers of what could be campfires on the slopes the gnolls had indicated. Either it was implicit authorisation to ride up and meet them, or they just had bad camp discipline out in the wilds. Or in the worst case, they could be trying to lure them into a trap. One sadly had to consider all these things, and it was good to have both well equipped infantry garrisoned nearby and Nimmel and her magic on his side. Even if she was whining about saddle soreness, and having to stay awake all night, and a host of other things he'd started tune out. He glanced down at her on her smaller pony as the cavalry trotted forwards in a decent enough column formation, scouts in skirmish order at the front and rear.

"Oi, you're just outta practice. Gettin' too used to your easy livin' up in that tower of yours Nims? Looks like someone needs a bit of practice to stay in shape, don't they?"

"More like I need me damned comfortable bed rather'n traipsing out in the mud and cold. Why'd I even agree to this? Fuckin' mud and drizzle and meeting doin' escort missions again..." their diminutive gnomish member muttered back, an annoyed look upon her face. Gruk on the other side of her, evidently having heard the comment, snorted in amusement. His voice cut across her to Krowluc's ears:

"Cuz the Boss ere' asked to? Cuz the Shaman's payin' ya extra and yer a greedy money grubbin' evil little gnome bitch at heart? Think ah all de extra coins Wizz!"

Nimmil paused in her complaining a moment and rubbed her chin with one hand, a speculative expression upon her face. "Hmmmm... You make a very valid point there and that is a happy thought. Sage advice from the stupid muscle bound orc dimwit that you are Gruk... Since when have you started this whole "thinking" thing? Can't member' ye ever doin' it before!"

"Ah ya mighta noticed it I doin' lots... But then again, what with ya bein so short an' all, I can't blame ya fer not noticin' me towerin' brilliance now canna!"

Krowluc snorted in amusement as their byplay (with interjections from one or two the other riders) continued, and at last ended the stream of whining from their gnomish wizard. Still, he would have to talk to the Shaman about putting Nimmil through some training outside of her arcane studies: she'd evidently gotten somewhat lax and even rusty in her abilities, he judged from this little excursion. Not that she hadn't always been the complainer of course, what with being the wizard of the company, but even though they had evidently improved her magical abilities the seasons in the stronghold had been less than beneficial to her more martial talents. He glanced back along the line and noted that everyone was keeping pace and formation in their new armour despite the muddy conditions common for this season. The crude roads between the stronghold and the villages had helped somewhat, but once they'd gotten out unto the wild lands of the valley they'd slowed down a little. The farmers back in the villages might like it but it wasn't ideal for mounted warriors to move around in.

"'Then again, it is a bit early for the raiding season. That might be why this lot are doing their thing..." he mused, calling for quiet in the ranks as Bareyaras and the forward riders signaled that they could see something off in the distance. With that in mind he slowed the advance and had the lance with the banners of the stronghold and company, and the new one of this Illusk, unfurled by Gruk so that they had some measure of identification to show to this lot if they weren't enemies. Wouldn't make a tap of difference if they were enemies of course, but that's what all the weapons they carried were for. With that in mind he had the thirty-odd riders in his company advance on increased guard through the slowly blossoming greenery and damp earth that they passed through. Watching hillocks or a tree-line that enemies could be hiding behind and preparing an ambush from, occasionally halting here and there as a spot was checked before they moved on once again. At least till Bareyaras trotted his mount back and jerked a thumb over the slope just ahead of them.

"Boss, got company ahead! A dozen or so riders, and what looks like a wizard or two with'em. Couple a'wagons and some more dudes in armour just behind'em, up an incline. They saw me and the guys and are just waitin' there with a banner at the front. Looks like a parley meet an' greet ta me."

Krowluc nodded and motioned with his gauntleted hand. "Right, Kyras, take your squad over by those trees, you're the reserve. Bareyaras, you lot stay up on the slope and be ready to either back us up if we need it, or scarper out of sight if they start casting and we have to make a run for it. Nimmil you're with me, Gruk keep the banner front and centre when we head forward just like that lot seem to be doing. If it turns out they've got a powerful mage, and they likely do, everyone knows what to do if all goes to shit and Nimmil and the other's can't counter-spell'em?"

A round of nods followed from the various squad leaders. "Right, good, let's get this circus started then!" He raised his voice and shouted down the column. "Oi Rhydyc! Get up here! Looks like we're meetin' folks from your hometown, so front an' centre soldier!"

The boy was brute with a greataxe Krowluc found, and could actually ride well too, so he was a welcome addition to the company even if he was training with the Shaman's lot as well. Krowluc wasn't sure why the young half-orc was trying to do it, or seemed so eager, but right now he was a gift sent by the gods to help avoid any trouble with wizards from his home village. Fighting a Harpell mage wasn't something he intended to do after all: that was why he had the boy as proof of good intent, Nimmil to counter-spell so they could retreat if things went wrong, and why his entire force wasn't bunched up in one spot to be knocked out in one go. They crested the slope and their 'greeting party' came into view, with two robed figures at the centre of a rough wedge formation. The riders weren't very impressive overall, he noted as they neared at a steady trot: one or two professional armsmen, what looked like a cleric, and the rest were a bunch of militia or armed tradesmen. Sadly the mage, at least Krowluc assumed that's what he was 'cause he had the robe and staff, appeared older and had a stern face in that way he'd seen of experienced mercs and adventurers in the past. This meant bad things if the situation got violent, but he hoped it may also mean better odds of avoiding the situation ever getting to that problematic level. For the moment the older mage had glanced at the blue and gold Illuskan banner with narrowed eyes as they neared, before focusing back on Krowluc as his squad halted and he raised his gauntleted hand in greeting.

"Hail! I am Krowluc. You've entered the lands of Sparta clan and Illusk. Can I confirm that you are from Longsaddle and the Harpell family of mages?"

It was the apparent mage, the evident leader of the others as he'd expected, that replied. "Indeed we are. I trust there are no problems with our arrival? We were expected after all... Invited even."

Krowluc nodded politely. Always best to be polite around potentially dangerous wizards he'd found in life. "Aye, Shaman Karguk sent us out to escort you to the nearby village to meet him before ye head unto the stronghold proper. Lands are gone a bit crazy with the war on and the Boss doesn't want any hassle for ye now that you're in the valley. Is that acceptable to you Milord... ?"

"Malchor," the mage replied coolly as he surveyed them, though his companions seemed more visibly surprised by the composition of Krowluc's riders, and perhaps a little confused. "...That offers no difficulty to our party, Krowluc of Sparta, so we shall allow you to escort us to this village you speak of. May I enquire into your own position within your clan? Your party composition is... Unexpected... From own experiences in the frontier."

"Oh well I'm just a humble Captain of the Horse here I'm afraid. We are a bit more mixed as a fightin' force than the other warbands, I'll admit. Pick only the best as we say! But I'd warn you to expect more than this in the stronghold proper and try not stare or such. Boss Orcs are raisin' the levies once the planting's finished, what with the war against them savages under Warlord Wyrmog and all, so that means humans, kobolds and some goblins going to around the fortress proper. We've even got a few gnolls running around trying to get work evidently as well, so no startin' trouble if you see any. Bosses run a tight ship and keep the peace so you shouldn't be under any threat, I can assure you. Young Rhydyc here can help with explaining..."

--

[Interlude 03]

--

[The Shattered Lands and the Mercenary Warsword]

The sea air felt good upon his face as he pulled his helm off his head for a brief rest (and to enjoy the cooling breeze upon his brow). It had been almost a year now since he'd returned to this impromptu raiding port he'd founded in this hidden cove all those years ago at his Deity's command, and he'd found that it was good to be back near the sea once again. Despite these comforts and the ease they induced, he surveyed his outpost with a critical eye. Several of the warships were still under repair after a winter storm, and some half-rotted skeletons hung from gibbets near the mustering area indicating that there had been trouble once again in the recent season. This would be something to ask the subordinate he'd left in charge here last spring, he thought as he drank deeply of the horn full of wine that this lot had managed to demand in 'escort fees' off a merchant ship a little while ago.

Considering how dangerous the Bay of Bormul was as it came into Zazesspur he doubted there'd been much complaining from those merchants risking the run and meeting some of his "armed traders" on the waves rather than out and out pirates. Just as those few idiots coming through Grim Jaws rarely mouthed off when offered an "escort" through the lands for a small fee, or those peasants now under the "protection" of his warbands. He snorted softly in amusement at the thought: after all they were in truth far better protected and stable than many of their fellow human peasants across these bloody lands. He motioned to one of his senior guards and a human woman: "Take my mate and whelps to my tent to await me."

Nods of obedience, fist to heart salutes from the warriors, and his female and the younger whelps were being led off by some his guards to rest after the journey here. She had been obedient and useful, as well as fertile: in the five years since she had sworn unconditional obedience and loyalty to him in exchange for the safety of her daughter and their "kind treatment", she had given him three strong whelps. More importantly, she also brought a veneer of legitimacy for dealing with the more "civilized" factions in the ever running bloody civil war that consumed these lands alongside the small castle they'd been entrenched in since the "Ten Black Days" as the humans here called them. He drank more of his wine. It was a small price to pay, and his words were his bond after all - well, at least moreso than for many of these fools who tried to call themselves Kings and Queens in these war-torn lands.

The Horde Leader had been as clear in the this winter's visions as in that visitation from all those years ago when he'd been but a whelp with a sword in hand a few friends at his side: he would likely never be the 'King' of these lands. But still he had a purpose. He had been granted knowledge of things that were to come, and told to raise his standards and build his armies in the Cunning Warrior's name. If the power of the Horde in these lands was not enough to conquer all then it seemed that even fate would be manipulated to serve him and his patron deity. These lands had torn themselves asunder as the visions had foretold, but one day this "Zaranda Star" would return as Queen and end the chaos. Well, in the years to come at least - but for now he followed the orders of his God, built a powerbase of his own, and crushed all resistance to it within the various clans of the Starspires and those human lords that encroached upon it.

So he had fought. First by adventuring with his small band of battle-brothers to gain wealth, then as a mercenary captain as his power had grown and the humans cared less and less who carried the blade in his hands. He snorted in amusement. Or even the elves it seemed, as coin and weapons "mysteriously" appeared in exchange for his forces serving as a buffer between the Forest and rest of these arid lands. He hated their kind personally, but evidently they hated humans more than orcs in this place and time. Challenges had come and he had survived them... And now he had gathered a powerful force of warriors, trained as mercenaries and loyal to him, that secured lands and peasants to feed them. When the War Maker called him to march in his name... Well he and his warriors would be ready to do so and praise his Holy Name.

--

[The Rogue who betrayed the Betrayers]

The human's face was amusing to watch as his blade sunk into her chest. Stunned, confused, agonised, as if the very world had turned against her and her kind. Which in truth it probably had, at least in this case, as he withdrew the enchanted blade and listened to the sounds of slaughter all around him beginning to die down in the large fortification. Mere hours ago this female and her warriors had been standing on the stones of a great victory after betraying their own allies here. Perhaps her God would accept her failure with good grace.

Personally he doubted the human God Bane would do anything of the sort after she and her cohort were slaughtered by he and his warriors right after their army had marched out to face the *hopefully* forewarned and ambushing army of the humans of Melvaunt. War was coming to these lands and it was his mission in life right now to make the chaos worse while also growing strong off it. Fun times!

He wiped the blood off the weapon onto the female's cloak as she gurgled up a last bit of blood. The sudden stench from her bowels indicated that she had passed from this world to the next. Pretty weak in his mind, but well... It saved time for him right now as he strode down the stone corridor alongside some of his warriors to finish off the last survivors of these servants of their former paymasters. Well, it was more the former paymasters of the orcish warband that his warriors had slaughtered and taken the place and whose villages would likely be taking the retaliation for this...

Stab. Stab. Stab. Slash. Slash. Stab, annoying screaming... Stab, stab, stab, and - problem solved! He shouted orders for his warband to start grabbing everything they could carry and set the fires to damage the fortress as much as possible. Well damage it more than it already was, as they had already dealt damage in the earlier assault on the Citadel of the Raven. Oh and, he'd nearly forgotten: he roughly tugged off the symbol of the One Eye from his neck so it snapped, and placed it into the bloody hand of the now dead human before him. He grinned and closed it into a fist. Very sacrilegious of course, but then again he was under the orders of his own God and getting all these humans killed would likely would have avoided any retribution even without his blessings to not be seen by wizards and other Gods. *Hopefully* anyway. It'd be a very short life for him in the next few ten-days otherwise, wouldn't it!

But that didn't worry him then as he called his warriors together and began to march into the mountains and the caves beyond, towards the faraway Galena Mountains. They could rest, count their lot and raid from there while the hammer of Zhentarim vengeance fell upon those clans nearby and who just happened to be his enemies as well. Ever since the War Maker had appeared to him in a vision he'd had a purpose in life, one that had been close to what he'd already been doing in life of course with all the raiding, burning and such, but now it had a focus and a goal.

Something was coming, something dark and powerful and important that he had a part to play in it now. The Moonsea would one day cower in fear from the name of he and his, or at that least he would someday take one of those walled cities, strip them of everything of value and rule like a true warlord should from a throne of slain enemies skulls while their females grovelled at his feet in defeat. But to do that he needed to find and steal more of these magical items, do fun things like screw up some human god's magical rituals, murder their leaders and of course...

--

[The Beast Rider of the Hordelands]

He sat astride his winter wolf and watched the cold plains in the darkness of night. Off in the moonless plains he could see the flickering of the human town beyond. The winter had been harsh and his stores of food and slaves needed to be increased for the battles that lay ahead. Raiding into these lands would achieve this goal and test the magics of his shamans against that of the human wizards. In truth he was doubtful of his shamans' claims and had prepared other methods, but if they failed he would punish them for it assuming they (and he) survived the battle.

A motion of his hand had foot warriors in their furs and light armour move forward into the night, alongside said shamans and their apprentices. This would be the test of these newly subjected clan-warriors. Mountain orcs the lot them and not as disciplined and organised as his own gray orcs, but they were certainly ferocious and useful for such rapid raids. As well as being fodder for testing for more dangerous enemies: he had given them his word that he would lead to battle after all, but he'd never promised them if they'd survived such clashes. Not that most of them would have cared about that anyway he knew, he'd found that they were glory hounds that needed tempering with some discipline.

The Gods, or one of them if he was to be fully honest, had commanded him to raise a mighty war host to prepare to bring against the human lands when the time came. So these past few years had been spent moving and conquering, crushing clans and adding them to his own out here in the wastes while raiding into the Thayan and Rashemen lands like now from time to time. A distraction of course: when the time came his host would move westward and descend upon Damarra or Vassa in the War Maker's name.

But for these seasons he was to harm the humans of these lands without risking his own destruction. Something that had nearly destroyed him a dozen seasons ago, but he'd somehow survived and rebuilt his powerbase to earn the Horde Leader's favour once more. Now he waited amidst his fellow beast rider cavalry, preparing to descend upon the enemy town as the first sounds and signs of battle reached his ears. He frowned at the eruption of flame. It seemed a witch was amongst his foes...

He unsheathed his enchanted bow and motioned his riders forward as they did likewise. Well, the witch's magic would not protect her from these arrows this night. Praise be to Ilneval, he mouthed as the charge began upon the now open gates of the foe's home. Hundreds of voices matched his as the warhorn roared out in the dark night of the cold wastes...

--

When: Spring of the Year of the Harp

Where: Zybelin's Drift

I'll call this the year of the Harp because we've got bloody Harpers in our midst. Or soon-to-be former Harpers at least, assuming history holds true in the area and the Blackstaff runs off stealing things and forming the Moonstars. Not sure if that's still true or going to happen of course: I can hardly turn around and go "Hey Malchor Harpell! How goes all your secret Harper stuff with you and your mate in Neverwinter?" after all. Plus I'm not exactly skilled at trying to subtly suss out such things with experienced manipulators, so sadly I expect I'll be remaining in the dark about that for quite a while. Now that's not to say I didn't try a little bit, but seeing as I'm pretty sure I failed I still don't know fuck all.

Truth be told I got even more confused because the powerful archmage I'm treading carefully around started this really weird and oblique conversation at one stage about harp and banners and trying to find out what the Boss wants. At least I think that's what he was trying to dig at anyway and it's not like I've any clue what the master plan of the Boss's is anyway. So I went with the safe route of "Luskan Bad, Uthgardt Bad, Furry Fucker's lot Bad, Longsaddle Good, Neverwinter Good" in our conversation while keeping Darth Phargk largely away from them. Something he seems absolutely fine with as every competent orc in this region knows of the crazy Harpells and their Boom! Boom! magic effect on Hordes that get too close to their village. Hell even Wyrmog knows that as best I can tell. Sorry I'm getting ahead of myself now aren't I?

Right, to make a long story short the caravan spotted was, as expected, the one from Longsaddle and we've brought them inside the 'walls' of Zybelin's Drift. Well, for the moment anyway. We'll return to the stronghold proper in a ten-day or more. Really because we've things to do here and I certainly wasn't expecting a walking WMD - fuckin' Malchor Harpell to stroll into my lands. I figured they'd send oa mobile cavalry group escorting one of their lot (I was sorta right on that, got Harkle for instance, and some woman named Bella instead of the dude that becomes a werewolf, or the one with the crime against nature frog-thing-mount) then take my two hostage-apprentices and return to the archmage in his tower. I think she was one of those with us when we burned down the farm with plant-zombie-scarecrows in fact, but I'm not a hundred percent certain on that I'm afraid.

In any case I'd also like to lay down some ground rules before returning to the stronghold where my family are with dangerously powerful former adventurers and crazy wizards. Especially considering the fact we've got Darth Phargk and Doctor Ned in the mix as well. I've a suspicion that the appearance of this caravan, with attendant human wizards, does confuse my orcish priestly superior in some minor way, but honestly it's hard to tell with him. Whatever the case there's been only limited questioning of the situation from him and our other "guests" – which is good because I want to keep trouble to a minimum. Being honest it's all one big headache that's kept me constantly on the move since that lot arrived a few hours ago. This is a small village, and now it's gotta keep powerful individuals and multiple species all inside its walls for the next few days.

Let me tell you, it's a bloody joy. Still, I prefer this route over the burn-fight-kill methodology most warbands choose. Luskan and the Uthgardt are big enough problems already without adding to the enemy pile in my view. Anyway for the moment we've encamped the Longsaddle lot in (and around) the main tavern here in the town, the Zahgorim's Conquest group in a barracks we cleared out for them and near Wifne's home, Darth Phargk and his group in Ghorza's "Headquarters" while she and my band of merry men have set up shop in the caves. Because they have hot springs and I like a nice warm bath when I can get it, thank you very much. It's not too bad in the caves anyway: it's spacious enough, easily defended and has those hot springs as well. Did I mention hot springs?

Well it has them, and I'm off to soak in them while I can now. Then I'll come back and start all this again when my head is clear. Been a long day and I'd expect there are only longer ones to come. Like every single day in the next few ten-days for example. Right, the hot, refreshing waters await... So Slan go foille for now!

--

When: Morning, Spring, 1355 Dale Reckoning

Where: Zybelin's Drift

Okay, I feel better now. A nice long rest followed by a dip in the waters really does clear the mind and chase away its cobwebs. It's actually early morning now - I hate mornings to be honest, but with so many humans around it's best to live on the day shift. That and I wanted to get into the hot springs as... Well I didn't get a chance to as I had planned after my entry yesterday. Blame Ghorza for wanting to get some: let's just call it exercise and leave it at that. I was definitely in for the night, the exhaustion taking me straight afterwards. She's still snoring away by the way. She'll be on the "night shift" later on to help keep a lid on this place after all. Anyway, a bit of grub and a dip does wonders to wake a body up, and myself and Missy had a nice chat about how things are going alongside a rather impromptu discussion of the Weave and spell casting. Don't ask how it came up, it just did.

Anyway my main concern is how she is handling life and her "elevation in status" in relative terms (even though she technically remained a slave as before). Basically I can get her home now through the Harpells, or at least to Longsaddle which is somewhat isolated at the moment I admit. I'd already resolved to free her though now that we're through the initial formation of Illusk and assuming we can manage to get through the situation here, and then with the Furry Fucker, this is the best shot for it. Of course I'd rather she didn't leave for very obvious reasons including all she knows of the clan, but the auld conscience and some loyalty demand action on promises given months ago. I'll also admit that making a show of freeing her now would also be beneficial to dealing with the likes of these humans and to show an indication towards taking some sort of action about the other sudden influx of slaves into the clan.

Perhaps I'm rushing things but I think I've thought it through in some measure even if I'd planned it original a season or more from now. Considering I'm in a good mood one can say the response from Missy has been positive. Well positive in the sense towards mine and my household's position: she'll stay for the foreseeable future and remain my quasi-teacher and Ned's apprentice with me. Free of course, and we'll talk more on the details on what she wants upon our return home and after getting Oggy's feedback on the best way to go about it. Truth be told I'm relieved about the outcome and her transitioning from slave-girl to "paid employee". Strange how we were trying to kill each other only a few short years ago, and did kill each other's loved ones. Life is strange and cruel on this world. Best I can do I guess. Not sure how Mara and Kethri will react though, that's a fear I have but there's little I can do as I'll admit this is blatant favouritism.

Anyway I've a busy day ahead so I better get my mind in the game so to speak. There's a market to organise and keep the peace in while I handle a meeting between magic wizards, peasants, traders, orc clerics and my warriors. All the while our human levies start to train themselves up and Wifne and Holawyn get the process of organising this "find your fuckbuddy festival" (as I mentally call it) up and running. I blame Rose for that actually. Well, she came up with the more honourable sounding local version of it anyway. My plan as such is to pin down the Harpells in the next hour, and their guard captain and cleric as well, and make sure we've got an agreement not start trouble over... Well anything. Like slaves for instance, or the fact of one of our human idiots needs a flogging according to Ghorza for causing problems during the arrival. If they can't handle it here after all it'll be really problematic come to the stronghold.

Plus many, many, many other things I'm afraid. Things I must get to now or they'll just build up and get worse. Rose arriving sorta indicates I've delayed long enough. Back later. Slan!

--

[Nedorious Illian Kline III 05]

Village of Zybelin's Drift

It was a nice pleasant spring day, he found as he strode out of his temporary home within this quaint little mountain village. He hummed to himself contentedly, glancing up at the fluffy white clouds floating by in the sky above him made blue-orange by the sun rising against the hills. It'd been a while since he'd been up at the crack of dawn actually, he idly noted. He supposed it was one of the joys of living with nocturnal creatures like orcs. Or maybe of taking on the form of one, even though he found that Orc-Ned was Best Ned these days. It certainly was an interesting experience - sometimes even downright productive and enjoyable! 'Course, that was likely 'cause of the unusually civilized behaviour of the orcs of this stronghold along with his own helpful nudging on the behaviour on his many merry apprentices. Why, he was a veritable Archmage now!

He hummed in thought, scratching at his chin as he walked along the dusty dirt streets of Zybelin's Drift.

Being paid and just having time to study the Arcane? Check!

Living in a Wizard's Tower? Check!

Minions... Umm initiates? Check!

Researching Ancient Knowledge? Check!

Plotting Schemes against enemies? Check!

Actually skilled apprentices? Check!

Meeting other skilled mages to discuss matters? Check!

Well didn't that all sound downright marvellous!

Hmm. Perhaps he should call himself Archmage Doctor Nedorious now?

That'd be awesome... Ohhhhh and right now he'd be Doctor Orc-Ned the First Orc Archmage... Wouldn't that be an awesome thing to put into the tomes?

He ran that idea past his ever loyal minion as they walked towards where young apprentices Karguk and Missy awaited his sage Orcish Archmage knowledge. Sadly the perpetually gloomy dwarf that was Crue merely snorted in annoyance and shot the idea down. "Ar' ye daft Boss? Heh, ye ah arch-mhage? Ye'r just ah jumped up pirate in some poncy duds!"

"Tut-tut Crue my dear. Druid, Teacher, Necromancer, tamer of beasts, Surgeon Extraordinaire, and now Magical Orc Archmage... Oh yeah and jumped up pirate too off course. I'm a ma - Orc of many roles and responsibilities my dear! One must always strive to expand one's horizons. Ever onwards and ever upwards!" He responded cheerfully, waving his staff around for emphasis. Why vengeance upon his enemies in the Host Tower wouldn't bring itself about after all now would it?

"Ah righto Boss, whatever 'ya say."

"You still aren't a morning person my dear! Cheery smile! Feel that fresh air! Hear those birds sing! Look at that sunrise! Enjoy life because then you die and get some asshole like me to raise your corpse to use it for his nefarious plans!"

"Uh-huh, shur' Boss, enjoyin' life an' all that, an' what are yer so'called nefarious plans ta day?"

He paused at that a moment: what was on his mind at the moment ? "Hmm... I'm sorta hungry, so pie and some ale would be a great in the short term I think. Long term... Slay my enemies and have their skeletons perform a nice little song and dance routine for my-our... Amusement. I still need a bard for that though."

Cruenditha nodded as the guards at the entrance to the cave parted and allowed a yawning orc shaman and his entourage to exit. Perfect timing , thought Nedorious as his grumpy dwarf minion replied. "Aye, ah like this plan, it's a good plan. We'll de ale and pie part anyway..." She frowned "And wha' song and dance are ye thinkin' of?"

Good question! Sadly he wasn't sure quite yet. "Well, I'm thinking it could be something cheerful and jaunty with lots of hip shaking."

Crue nodded as they approached Nedorious's apprentice and prospective ally against his foes. "Aye, ah can see totally see it, ah'd say Taperhand's Wake, cheerful and appropriate irony ah think."

"'Hmmm... It does fit somewhat, a new one for the top of the list I guess..." He mused before smiling cheerfully and greeting young Karguk and Missy . "Good morning my fine fellows! How are we all on this lovely spring morning?"

"Ghhhhrgghhhh hnnnnnnn mmmmrrrrinng" or something similar came back from young Karguk's mouth while the shaman's body-slave Missy gave a polite shallow bow. "Good Morning to you to Doctor Ned, Master intends to meet with the guests from Longsaddle in the Tavern. Mistress Ghorza has already arranged for food to be prepared for us upon our arrival and guards to ensure our privacy."

"Excellent! Then we shall let ye lead the way, my fine apprentices!" And that was all that needed to be said as he and his vertically challenged bodyguard joined the Shaman-led group as it trudged through the morning streets of Zybelin's Drift. A place that was slowly coming to life as a cock crowed somewhere to his left. He c0ould see a few villagers already setting off to work in the fields, while some orcish warriors walked back in the direction of their barracks. From their apparent tiredness, he guessed that their guard shift had just ended and that they were setting off back to their beds.

He found that having relatively organised allies in this endeavour was nice: the last bunch from all those years ago would have been passed out drunk around this time of day. Or, well, most of the day or night... Much like most of the Luskan Guard actually. At least Etlin had managed to train that nonsense out of the other two of his minions. Good fellow Etlin: solid and dependable, unlike his women. Hopefully all the guarding of the office back at the stronghold was going well, with the help of young Lua'kah'wyss and Loraatris.

The walk to the village tavern was rather refreshing, and helped clear the morning cobwebs from his mind. Even young Karguk seemed to come awake as they neared one of the larger buildings in the village. There's evidently been some renovation and expansion work going on over the winter, he guessed from the extra space at the back that wasn't there when he'd first arrived. So he hummed happily at the smell of cooking food wafting out of the open doorway as the orcish guards saluted their Spartan superior fist-to-heart. Nedorious glanced at young Karguk and queried whether the other shaman members of this 'Illusk' would be joining them. All he got was a shrug and a vague negative response.

It made sense to him: his young apprentice certainly was the better in dealing with humans, even if this cleric fellow Phargk had developed some interesting abilities. It had been an interesting conversation he, the Shaman and Crue had had with Phargk... well... really it was mostly himself that had that talk while Crue and the Shaman's bodyguard glared at each other. There was so much to learn out here for Doctor Nedorious Illian Kline THE THIRD, Orc Necromancer Archmage of the Crags. Young Karguk's from his shrug and noncommittal "'Kay" seemed perfectly fine with him revealing his newly elevated magical status. His other apprentice Missy smiled politely of course, likely overjoyed to have more prestige added unto her educational choices. Though they all seemed more focused on greeting the other wizards present in the tavern.

"Ah, hello, fellow practitioners of the arcane!" He greeted the group of robed individuals sitting at the table alongside what he guessed was their cleric and meatshield... Guardsman... as they approached and young Karguk gave his own greeting "...as Karguk, Shaman and Apprentice Extraordinaire to myself, Nedorious Illian Kline THE THIRD, has stated , I'm Doctor Ned! Surgeon! Beautician! Healer! Druid! Necromancer and now Archmage, by popular acclaim, of this lovely valley! I'm also an orc right now! Because Orc-Doctor Ned is best Doctor Ned!"

The grump that looked like like a taller, male, human, skinny and bearded version of Crue merely glanced at him and started rubbing the bridge of his nose for some reason, while the others at the table seemingly blinked in dumbfounded surprise. Thankfully the other robed ones were quicker off the mark. The woman with the eyes-he-could-totally-fix smiled politely and introduced herself as Bella Delroy Harpell, and the other one was apparently a morning person like himself.

"Ah, Hello! I'm Harkle Harpell and I look forward to working with you and the others in the coming months! Sadly I'll have to admit that our studies of necromancy have been curtailed of late, after the... ugh... incidents... with the Liches and Demons, but I assure thee hat we shall rise to the challenge! And I like your choice of clothing my fine fellow, why when they said that you that were a necromancer we'd all expected some..."

Nedorious nodded as he took his seat across from them, gesturing to his stylish pink and green clothing with gold trim. "Dour faced fools with bad hygiene dressed all in black to look like their zombies? Who hide out in graveyards and crypts, muttering and moaning about everything because they lack the common sense to know that a nice comfy bed beats stone coffins any day of the ten-day? They give the craft a bad name with their poor taste, I tell you! Well not this Stylish Necromancer, no sireee! Life's for the Livin' and Death's for the Workin' I say! Why just this morning myself and Crue here were discussing what song would go best with a troupe of dancing zombies!"

Young Karguk and this Malchor Harpell appeared to groan for some reason, hands meeting to faces in simulations motions. Such serious fellows it seemed as the young wizard across from paused in thought then nodded after a moment. "You'll need a bard though or I'd think the effect would be ruined!"

--

[Karguk 34]

Village of Zybelin's Drift

Having a little siesta after an early morning had been a good decision, I found as I rested back on the furs and blankets here in the pleasant darkness of the cave. It wouldn't be long before it'd be evening after all, and then I'd be off to the "festival" being held here. Evidently Missy agreed with my suggestion, as I could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she lay against my side dozing softly. It's always best to grab a little rest in whenever you can in this line of work, though at least the bedding was much more comfortable here than cold earth or a bedroll under a wagon. After all the day had been rather tiring to say the least, what with having to deal with Doctor Ned and the equally exuberant Harpell wizards.

Sadly they were going to be staying with us. I sighed softly at the thought of the next few months: fun times ahead for me, it seemed! Still, they weren't out to get us after we gave them a basic overview of what to expect in Sparta, or after my necromantic mentor's decision to announce himself as an Archmage. I hummed in thought: I really needed to do more than tiredly agree to his odd ramblings, because evidently some of the time he's actually serious about these things. Well, I suppose that at least we're an "official" educational establishment with a resident (self-professed) Archmage in charge now. Yay, we're moving up in the world...

... Fingers were tapping my chin as I yawned and my eyes blinked open. A feminine voice came to my ears as I did so. "Sorry Sir, but it is the evening now and you asked me to wake you if you fell asleep or Rose returned from the baths."

"Oh right, break time's over already I guess..." I replied, rubbing at my eyes for a moment with my free hand as the right was still somewhat asleep thanks to Missy resting on it "...hmm... alright, up you get and let's see what the night holds!"

"Lots of drinking and feasting I'd expect, Master Karguk." Another voice greeted me as pushed myself up into a sitting position. Oh, evidently Rose had returned from her little dip in the hot-springs without me noticing. Well she wouldn't trigger any of the wards after all and could move relative quietly... Well, hopefully it was that rather than me being sloppy. Still... Still, it was a cave that still didn't have doors to make noise opening, and Rose was in sandals right now it seemed...

Oh. "That's a nice dress. I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before." Or had I? It wasn't common to see my apprentice out of armour, or even just in a tunic and trousers as best I could recall anyway. Well, that's my fault there I guess with the whole "stronghold of orcs or fighting battles" thing. Not places a homespun dress with some flowers, rose actually, sewn into would be a good choice of attire for long term survival. Still, she huffed at me, arms folded across her chest.

"I so too have worn dresses before!" Oh. Okay then. Didn't think that's exactly what my question had been. I shrugged back at her awkwardly as I started to tidy myself up a little to look all "Shaman Respectable", as I liked to think of it.

"Sorry, of course you have. It looks lovely on you, for the festival right? That's what you had in your bags coming here?" I replied, fastening my cloak around me with the brooch at my neck. Cloaks were awesome for keeping off the rain and the cold. Plus ir had none of that raincoat noise nonsense of my past life either. That and I found that they gave a real sense of authority when made well. Plus soon enough it would be something else I could enchant defensive wards into soon enough!

She swirled about on the spot to show it off. "Isn't it? It's the best 'fancy dress' for these things Grandma has. My Mama even wore it when she was alive. Since it's important for the village grandma said I could wear it..." Her voice changed slightly to that of her older relative as she waved a finger at empty air "...and act like a proper girl and cleric of the village for the festival!"

"Hm-hm, okay then, but you're always a proper girl and cleric Rose. Isn't that right Missy?" I asked, getting a cheerfully affirmative reply. I continued after buckling on my sword belt. "Well let's not keep them waiting..."

We small talked as my guard detail, led by young Hreshgk, joined us as we exited this part of the cave. I was quite impressed with Hreshgk's growing abilities with his own paladin's blade, and more importantly he was proving loyal to me and the Boss over just being ambitious. Sadly that was always a hard trait to find in my lot, and he had an update on what had been happening since I'd taken my little siesta: a grand total of nothing, thankfully. Just what I wanted to hear really, plus it seemed that Old Phargk was still relaxing back in his tent after a brief meeting with the Harpells. Not surprising really, as he seemed to at least respect them for the potential danger they represented, even if he still thought my dealings with them were odd. Most likely he'd make an appearance as the night drew on, but hopefully it wouldn't be an issue. To be honest having to play referee to my nominal alliance superior and much powerful cleric was headache-inducing. Of course here this was my domain even by orcish tradition and he'd wisely avoided any such clashes, but it was still something I had to constantly watch for.

The sounds and signs of the main event coming up soon were apparent as I stepped out into the orange-red illuminated landscape in front of the cave entrance. It'd still be bright enough for the next little while, but it was clear that the sun was slowly setting and night would soon be upon us. In truth I expect the 'meet and greet' had been ongoing for much of the day, but farmers being farmers their work in the fields had likely kept many away 'till now. Honestly it made more sense for them to take tomorrow off considering how drunk most would likely get over the next few hours. It was nice to see that the villagers here in Zybelin's Drift had the same opinion on the matter.

That and it'd be good to let them get a fine big feast and celebration under their belts here and in Zahgorim's Conquest as we returned to the stronghold. One could always hope it would boost morale amongst the human levies in some measure. I certainly found it all quite nice to see the celebratory bunting across the wooden buildings and music drifting through the air. Soon would come the merry drinking and post drinking punch-ups. Ah... it was like being home, or in a past life. Fun times... Well when it wasn't me getting punched anyway.

Anyway, speaking of punching people, Cruenditha came into view sitting at the open air table outside the tavern alongside Doctor Ned. Oh and joy, it deemed the Harpells were already back as well, alongside a Wifne Humbletree more focused on her villagers than her guests. At least nothing was on fire yet, I saw - which was already pretty good in my view. Ghorza, while sullen looking till she spotted me, was at least monitoring the conversation for me. That and my own merry minions stood around at various points ensuring a sort of order and protection. A thought that made me almost laugh: as if these powerful mages needed protection from our lot or the villagers! It was more likely the reverse in my view - but at least it was a chance to show our 'good intentions' and whatnot to prospective not-outright-enemies.

So it seemed it was friendly small talk slash negotiations slash drinking session time again, as I took my position at the quasi-head of the table with Rose and Missy on either side of me. The smell of food and ale was suddenly really appealing as a round was delivered before me fairly swiftly, and I listened to the discussion. Good news: it wasn't anything as bad as this morning such as the dancing zombies, painting unicorn and the dangers of self-immolation. Nor was there anymore of the uneasy-discomfort-tension that had surrounded them since the arrival. Hurray! I'd convinced them we weren't complete savages in some small measure perhaps?

I drank my ale and was glad as always to note it that didn't trigger my fantastically wonderful neutralise poison enchantment. Never could be too careful, what with a cleric of Evil Ninja Bat-orc running around, even if the thing had been awkward and energy intensive to create. Orc immune and digestive systems were great and all that but I preferred the little extras when doable. Wifne was only partly listening and talking as she moved back and forth into the crowd as it slowly began to swell. I could hear parents/brothers/sisters describing the 'attributes' of their family members (or themselves) to those from this village. I'd half expected the whole thing to have some romantic overtones but damn, all of this lot thought of the whole thing as business arrangement that a human of my past life wouldn't have considered. It wasn't quite at the full blown arranged marriage for most part, but courtship was pretty orc sounding at times. Or maybe it was just me?

At least the stern faced senior Harpell wasn't glaring at everyone at the moment (his family members included). He drank from a flagon as the table discussed divination and prophecy of all things. Or more-so Doctor Ned and the two other Harpells, Harkle and 'Beautiful' Bella evidently, were discussing it with Missy occasionally joining in to ask questions. I was happy enough to keep quiet for once and have a few words with Ghorza, Rose, and Cruenditha to my left side. Truth be told I'd always been wary of prophecy;m, which was ironic what with the future knowledge and such often coming true on Toril. That and I had a whole rack of 'Holy Books' with indicators of 'times to come' locked up at home.

But still these were only a guide and the future was fluid once you started interacting with it with future knowledge, like prophecies for instance, and while some things were going to be the same due to certain factors the fact of the matter was that the result might not be exactly as envisioned - or only apparent from a position of hindsight. Even my own visions of 'times to come' given to and from the Boss was based upon the fact that actions cause ripples and changes to the timeline and only certain underlying factors would remain constant. Geopolitics and all that jazz, though of course I didn't say any of that for obvious reasons. Still my opinion was queried by yonder Harkle Harpell. I shrugged and took a drink before replying to his half-question, half-statement.

"Eh, prophesy and divination are dodgy things, and is it really a proper prophesy if it's self-fulfilling? If I say I'm going to take a drink and then I take a drink. Or if I say you're going to have another round and you do. Often times they're just attempts by various Gods, long lived Wizards or certain organisations to push for a result they'd like... And then they pull them off. Or they're a genuine vision of the future but if you start makin' changes then the results should vary, or self-create the outcome..." - like Bhaal had done with all that 'spreadin his seed' because of good auld Alaundo's words. But that'd be spoilers and an outcome I wanted to maintain along with the Boss.

Speak

The King beneath...

Hmmm? I remember that tune...

"...sure anyone can give prophecies and predictions. So for every true one there's a dozen false ones out there... And some of those probably happen because people thought they were real. Nine Hells I know loads and I'm just a thick'headed auld mountain orc as my Ghorza here might put it. Or I could just make one up and say it's true."

My darling second wife and lieutenant shook her head and huffed in amusement. Well it seemed we had a lot more work to get done on easing the open zealotry from her worldview. She very much took prophecy seriously after the Boss sending those visions and then them coming through even if not as she expected. Of course they came through – the Boss had been playing the game from both sides of the board and so made it happen regardless of who'd actually won!

Speak

The King beneath...

Ah, I'm supposed to...

"Heh, shur ye can boyo..." Cruenditha laughed thumping her empty flagon unto the table to get more of the local beverage. "...about how great and all ye orcs and how ye all gonna conquer the world ah bet? Hehehehe."

I shrugged. "Well yes, but I doubt you're all interested in all that. There's so sayeth the Great Aluando ones..." Gods damned if that chant had lasted into my mind for years after the game for whatever reason. I rubbed at my temple a moment at the twinge there. "...even give you dwarf ones Crue!"

Doctor Ned grinned cheerfully. "Ah, probably about digging a hole, or findin' gold or just complainin' about something I'd expect."

"Heh, lets hear ye then Glorious Shaman?" She gave me the stink eye. "an' ah' better not hear 'bought thick'headed an' short'tempered dwarfs neither or I ain't speakin' ta ye for a ten-day."

I snorted in bemusement. "You hardly speak to most days dwarf so that ain't much of a threat, but still no dwarf bashin' ah promise. Lies maybe but hey it's all what you make of it..."

"The King beneath the mountain,

The King of carven stone,

The lord of silver fountains

Shall come into his own!

His crown shall be upholden,

His harp shall be restrung,

His halls shall echo golden

To songs of yore re-sung.

The woods shall wave on mountains

And grass beneath the sun;

His wealth shall flow in fountains

And the rivers golden run.

The streams shall run in gladness,

The lakes shall shine and burn,

All sorrow fail and sadness

At the Mountain-king's return!"

--

When: Spring of 1355 Dale Reckoning

Where: Zybelin's Drift

Well I survived the festival without trouble, if not without a hangover. I know there's magical means to solve that but I liked the excuse to let me sleep in the next day considering it wasn't too bad. Plus it's best not to be using magical stimulants when there isn't an emergency. That and I feel it's a waste of resources considering our limited supplies of reagents and herbs, or access to more of what we have supplies of.

I've had guards and wards in place so I could enjoy my rest before returning to the constant refereeing and managing of all the groups hovering around me at the moment. Yes it was procrastination I admit but well, obviously, I would prefer to stay in my bed with attractive naked women Ghorza and Missy than with the crazy human wizards, sith-lord orcs and drunken necromancers. Because Gods was it hard to get those dancing bloody yokes back into their gra...

Right! The festival went off largely without a hitch other than one possible crime against nature that was swiftly squashed and caused more (horrified) amusement than anything else. I've got Crue standing guard over my side while Malchor holds down his side. It's a taste of what I need to do and watch for in the future, so let's take it as a lesson and never speak of it again. Because it'll probably only encourage the idiots - this is my life now I'm afraid. That and babbling prophetic nonsense because the Boss wants me to... I'm not sure why yet but I figure it'll cause me hassle at some stage. Joy.

Most importantly I've managed to reach a tentative agreement between Darth Phargk and the rest of our alliance with the likes of the Harpells and Longsaddle. Basically no raiding them or trying to murder them and all that lovely jazz, while they don't magic-WMD us and help murder-hobos against us while occasionally trading with us. Oh, and hopefully this should ensure the Harpers aren't gunning for us: I made it rather clear we're anti-Luskan, not enemies of others like them or Neverwinter. Actually it's much more detailed and long winded than that, taking long talks and much drinking, but we've the bare minimum of something worked out and it'll be discussed further in Sparta in even more detail. But now it's closer to a "mutually self-interested business deal" than to a "teeth clenched lets-not-murder-each-other" treaty.

Okay, I've (unsurprisingly) discovered that having Harkle and Bella Harpell, with guards, staying there is hardly conductive to safety: it's like having another Ned - only younger, less talented and more... let's say... enthusiastic. The woman at least appears to have some common sense, so maybe the stern lecture from their elder they got might set them straight and sane. And maybe pigs will fly (without catapults or magic) too. Still at least it's given young Halnguk a taste of the madness he'll face in the coming seasons when dealing with the likes of these and shown him the kind of the patience he'll need. Good solid young apprentice, Halnguk is: he was all stoic about the whole thing in only destroying two practice dummies! *Hopefully our female acolyte is the same calm and brave soul when we reach Sparta and collect her*

I like the 'Spring Festival' as Wifne and Holawyn called it. I'd personally call it something more profane and accurately descriptive of its nature but hey, at least it proves that humans and orcs have a lot in common when it comes to certain things on this world. Or at least compared to the morality of my past life's culture anyway, I suspect that life's ancestors would have found it perfectly natural in some ways if you went back a few centuries. Though incidentally my knowledge of Brehon law marriage types proof weirdly useful when I was called up to help resolve the situation when an auxiliary archer (another one, gods-dammit!) turned up with a not-orc bun in the oven so to speak. Property rights and all that were the issue as the father was an only son and now he's got a child. Yadda-yadda, marriage with no property changing hands and just support frol 'daddy' for child, all stamped by the glorious Shaman of Ilneval and such. Then everyone got drunk afterwards and fights were averted. Rose things it was a good idea, as does Missy. Ghorza shrugged and said it was fine, High praise there.

Anyway, happy vassals are vassals who aren't rebelling. Plus in truth... it could slightly help ease the demographic problem within the clan. Children are the future and all that. Honestly it's been really rare, only a handful of cases, but I guess it was to be expected. I know it'll be more of an issue if I do what Ghorza wants to do and start putting the more aggressive and martial-minded of the orc female archer auxiliaries into the auxilia as officers or support. In simple terms it's doing something with those like Ghorza who rarely rise anywhere outside of somewhere like the priesthood – that and the fact my lovely ambitious wife is looking to move those she's 'friendly' with into positions of authority. Which is good for me as well as it further firms up our powerbase while also freeing up more warriors for fighting formations as a few strong martial minded females get into the ranks as mentioned. I'm tempted to do as she says and place a few dozen, a hundred even, into the auxilia this time around. Sadly it's something I must decide on soon as spring grows and battle draws near, but I figure it's more doable than trying to get some into the male ranks.

Ghorza is returning with me to Sparta and we're leaving Hreshgk of my Red Branch Knights in charge as Captain. Though in truth Wifne is in charge of her village other than in matters relating to the military and I've made that clear to my subordinate. Ghorza runs a tight ship here and I want that kept up in terms of discipline and keeping the peace. I've stressed that a peaceful, content and productive human village is in the interests of the clan and at my 'Paladins' are better at keeping that in mind than most. I'm bringing Darnuk and the two new recruits back with me though and we'll work on further expanding their abilities.

Honestly placing Hreshgk in a position of authority is as much a test/training session as anything else: up till now it's been just pure martial training for them but I want them to be able to manage interaction and leadership too. Ghorza and Missy agree with this assessment and Rose says that her grandmother will not complain if the current status quo continues. All of which aligns with my desires so let's aim for that. Before we head back I want to get the production schedule ready for arms and armour in the coming months now that we've nearly got a regular supply being delivered from the kobolds and goblins. See, my efforts to establish a basic trading system within the valley are now starting to take fruit after about 2-3 years! Huzzah!

It's honestly rather important, as well as the idea of trading with those like Longsaddle, in the sense that it's getting harder and harder to equip our forces from cast-offs and what we had reworked from stores or taken in battle. Even Zah's mighty victory only served to extend the timeline on that. Now a big part of that problem comes down to me: I favour well equipped and drilled forces. Which means that compared to your standard orcish clan we're very resource intensive when it comes to equipping our warriors, even down to the vassal auxlia level. In most clans that means goblin quasi-slave cannon fodder with clubs or rusty rubbish spears throw into battle to wear down a foe – with us it means armoured (cloth & leather at the least, chainmail for the better ones) footmen with kite shields, a spear and an axe. Oh and bows of course as the auxilia provide (even the human 'infantry') a useful boost to our missile forces alongside the hwacha which are usually one shot wonders.

In that regards we'll start working up the auxilia and Ghorza's returning squads tomorrow alongside my escort and we'll return in the next few days. The new garrison squads have slotted in well so far and gotten the rules beaten into them – then we let them party with the locals. Between that carrot and stick I'm hopeful that the situation here can be maintained. Archer auxiliaries and a few heavy squads have been left to hold the defences here while I take the full vassal human levy and the returning squads of warriors and auxiliaries. I'll tell Captain Krowluc's cavalry (and those Gnolls) patrol before we leave and increase patrols now that the ground is firming up. It won't be long till some adventurous raiding parties come nearby. Well, or scouts from those serving our enemies. Once the Moonblades return we can marshal our full strength and weaken the Furry Fucker and his allies. Darth Pharghk and I have been discussing the matter over drinks last night after all.

In terms of my personal time it's nice to relax for a moment and Missy's in good form. Well mostly from the being freed situation I assume but she's been almost ultra helpful, friendly and... huggy? maybe... in the past few days towards me. I'll admit that getting roaring drunk last night likely helped with that somewhat, but, well, she was unusually aggressive? teasing? something like that description anyway, when we got back. She's up and studying right now so maybe a dip in the hot-springs will clear the auld heads on that. Still, it's good that she's decided to stay in the mean time and study and help in Sparta. On a personal level I enjoy her company and on the rational Karguk-orc-Shaman level she's one of the few talented and intelligent assets I've got on hand to employ in progressing things here. Teams build things far better and the best individuals are defined by those around them. I like to think I'm building a good team here. I hope so at least.

For now though I think I may as well join her for some study: my magic won't improve without any effort or study after all. Slan go foill a chardai.

--

[Roland 03]

Approaching Stronghold of Sparta

The caravan was moving rather swiftly along the apparently crudely built or old dug out roadways back to this orc fortress. Something that Roland found strange: since when did orcs - or nine hells anyone out here - build or renovate ancient roads? The long road through Longsaddle was really more of a long dirt track across the plains and hills than any grand highway and yet here they'd passed work gangs cutting trees, digging ditches and even assembling a wooden watchtower.

When they'd rested along the way it had been outside of a cross between an inn, a way-station and a guard house. It had of course been crudely built and ugly, but it had been built recently. Something that had been discussed with him during that rest period by Lord Malchor and Guard Captain Gludoc, along with what they had encountered in the two orc-ruled human villages they'd spent time in. Or more truthfully they had questioned him on what he had seen and heard while they had supped with the orcs leaders.

He glanced back behind him at that thought, seeing his own men on horseback alongside the Captain and the three members of the Harpell family. And behind them marching in a column he could see dozens and dozens of humans and orcs trudging along with spear and shield at the ready while out on the flanks he saw a few of their riders. All in all this entire caravan was now more of a small army than anything else. He sighed softly and focused forward, keeping his horse at a steady trot like the rest of the group. It was rather concerning to see such a large organised force out here. Orcs, humans, kobolds and goblins all serving in organised fighting formations under an orc warlord?

As best he could tell, the Mage-Lord's brother was both concerned about the nature of this place, yet also somewhat relieved or even positive about its nature. Personally he found it incredibly surreal to stay in a village for several days where 'civilized' orcs ruled over villagers and even made those humans fight for them with little or no apparent protest. Even talking to them had been odd as most just seemed to say they'd been terrified at first but it was mostly okay now as long as the orcs kept their distance in their rule and kept order. Words he'd never have associated together before his life: Orcs, and Keeping Order. He'd almost stopped drinking at one stage during that first night when he'd seen it with his own eyes...

"We're nearly there Roland" broke him out of his reverie as Captain Gludoc trotted up alongside him on his large bay mare, his words uttered in a tired albeit questioning tone "Is there any trouble you might have spotted or think needs be told to Milord Malchor?"

He shook his head. "No Captain, just thinkin' bout' how strange it's all been so far. Wonderin' who'se behind them has often been on my mind, I'll admit."

"Hmnh, you're not the only one Roland, not the only one at all..." Gludoc replied, glancing back at the true leader of this expedition for a fraction of a second. Even if he told them nothing it was apparent that one of the Mage-Lord's 'friends' or their 'friends' were behind the madness in the mountains. "... But we'll have to be on extra guard when we get to their den. Gonna be a bit different there than in the last two places we stopped, from what we their own leaders have warned."

Roland nodded. "Aye, and I've been extra clear to the lads about everything Captain. I'll do it again when we dismount: there won't be any trouble on our side I can promise you that."

He himself was more concerned about the fact that they were walking into an orc fortress and its attendant horde of warriors than with anything to do with slaves and such. It was terrible and all, but he'd been to Luskan once before and the Uthgardt tribes that the village occasional let in to trade often enough had slaves of their own back in their villages. As long as it wasn't people from the village or its surrounds he and most of his militia weren't going to cause a fuss unless they did something truly bad deliberately to offend.

Which seemed unlikely, at least considering the harsh order these particular orcs seemed to keep in this valley and their attempts to seem 'friendly' towards them. Before him the marching column of orcs and wagons was marching out of the road through the trees and hills unto... farmland beneath some hills. Up in those hills off in the distance he could see a large castle and some more structures on the slopes below it. It was another oddity about these orcs, he noted looking at the beautiful blue sky above the marching column: they were marching during the daytime with little to no disorder or complaint.

Gludoc seemed to notice his eyes tracking the forces ahead of them and then glance upwards to the sky. "Yes, strange isn't it?"

"Ain't that the truth Captain, look at them marching during the day? In a column? Something I've noticed back in the villages as well..." He answered back, keeping his voice low "...they aren't much bothered by the touch of sunlight are they? Most bands I've seen or heard off, other than a few mercs, would be sleepin or lazing around this time of day. None of this lot seem the least bit dazzled or blinded by the brightness of the day now do they?"

Magic using, disciplined, well armed orcs who weren't bothered by the touch of sunlight. No wonder the Uthgardt tribes up here were getting stomped so hard by them. Still those could be good things if these orcs would be focused on the likes the Uthgardt tribes or Luskan as even if they formed a powerful horde they were unlikely to threaten the Harpell family's magical powers. But bringing an end to the constant raiding and horrors that intermittently flowed down from the Crags would be a welcome thing. Orcs, even 'civilized' ones, they could deal with. Especially if they were being supported by those that their Mage-Lord seemed to believe were backing this operation here. Beside him Gludoc voiced his agreement just as quietly. There were no orcs nearby, but best not to spread such tales amongst the other caravaners from the village.

"Yeah, don't mind the light much and theres plenty of armed females with bows back there along with humans. One of which is damned rare, and other even rarer if I've ever heard of at all... So we'll keep our wits about us in the stronghold, but..."

Roland waved his free hand gently and interrupted. "Aye, I know, don't worry. I'll keep me eyes and ears open while you, the priestess and his Lordship are meeting with the higher ups here. Doubt I'll be able to get much, or at least more than in the village, since their... Ya know... orcs and not likely to open up much to the likes of me or the rest of the boys."

"Good man Roland, good man. I know I can trust you to keep things on the level. We'll talk again when we arrive, but I best return to Lord Malchor now. We draw near." Gludoc said with a pat on his chainmail-clad shoulder, which was the sign to tighten up his own band of riders as the captain of the guards at the Ivy Mansion rode back down the line towards where the priestess and three mages were waiting in the middle of the wagons. It really wouldn't do for the orcs to look more professional than his own brave band of riders when they arrived into this fortress of theirs, after all.

Well into the evening, as the orange-red sun sank down from the sky into the mountains, they came to the base of that hilly castle. He could see cattle being herded off in the distance past some freshly created farmland. Farms from which he could see what he thought was a coffle of slaves, some of whom were human, being led back to the stronghold by some bored looking warriors who saluted the orc army returning to their tribe's home. Interestingly he noted glancing at one or two of the humans, both rather decently muscled women covered in dirt who merely gave a glance at them before going back to trudging onwards, was that they were surprisingly well fed for their ilk. Even the goblins and few orcs he saw with them as they passed were seemed healthy enough with only a few evident signs of the whip or other punishments. Still, he was glad he wasn't amongst the poor wretches as he passed them. It was just how the dice rolled in life he supposed: some times you were on the winning strike and some others it was misery.

More important to him was the small town and wood and earth wall that seemed to risd up at the bottom of the slope up to the old castle. From what he could see this lower wall was being raised from either side of the semicircular shaped rocky slopes, with a tall hunk of rocks in the middle about three or four houses high having a tower place atop it. And maybe a gate? It was so incomplete that he couldn't tell for sure. Still, there was hundreds of orcs working up this construction as best he could tell, or at least he figured there has been as he saw large numbers of orcs forming up to greet them. Or more likely their orcish leaders, but it was pretty terrifying to see so many armed orcs standing in formation with maybe thousands more in the castle behind them.

He frowned: this wasn't some large village as he'd expected but damn near a small city, or at least large town, judging from the numbers coming into view. He glanced back at his leaders and felt relief of sorts. While the younger Harpell, Harkle, appeared excited by the sights rhey were approaching, the stoic form of Lord Malchor seem unfazed and was looking at it with curiosity rather than concern or worry. As were 'Beautiful' Bella Harkle and Priestess Mhaerun, who while looking somewhat distastefully at what they'd passed, it seemed felt more in the way of mild irritation than actual anger or fear. Then again they could be merely annoyed they were moving so slowly as the column started to halt and form up at the shouts orcish squad leaders...

--

[Ogrash 11]

Stronghold of Sparta

Ogrash hummed, pondering Karg's current plan. She stood beside Ghorza in the shrine to the Cave Mother and listened to her subordinate speak of their mate's "decision". Karguk had of course given his opinion - well, he'd called it his decision - but she wanted Ghorza's own impressions before deciding how to handle the situation. Of course she'd known Karg was planning on freeing the slave for several seasons: the fact he had chosen to go through with it now rather than later was their current topic of discussion.

The slave in question stood obediently before them, arms at her side and eyes focused on the floor in front of her rather than to the side where her robes were. In any case her stance was more nervous and expectant than fearful or ashamed, as this situation had occurred so many times since she had been defeated and captured by them that she had learned to accept her place as their slave and overcome her useless fears.

Even the fact she was being discussed in such terms only mildly seemed to bother her now as she waited her turn to speak. Good. She still knew her place, while not being weak-willed either. Ogrash still glared down at her coldly of course, just she would with any lesser female trying to increase her status in manner such as this. She'd never heard of a human female doing so before of course, but after all she herself had seen and heard that this one had powers that were not to be scoffed at.

In that she could agree with Karg: Missy's powers were growing to such extent that holding her in a position she did not wish to be held in would soon become impractical. A fact that in Ogrash's eyes, meant that like any other young female outgrowing her station she needed to be elevated in status or eliminated in short order. Considering Karg's opinion of his little pet and her own view of this slave's obedience and usefulness 'till now, eliminating her was an option that really didn't cross her mind.

"...that and she did of course fight and wield some measure of power in battle. The Gods favour those who are brave and strong, even if she is a weak and scrawny human slave. Karg ain't freeing her cuz of her beauty or skill under the furs after all, ain't that the truth slave? Ye haven't even been worthy of such now have ye Missy?"

To Ogrash's ears the slave's response was calm, clear, and submissive, with only faintest indications of humiliation or anger at the deliberate provocation apparent in her tone. "That is correct Mistress Ghorza, Master Karguk has never taken this slave in that manner."

Ghorza chuckled darkly at that, slowly walking around the human and glaring intimidatingly down at the shorter female. "Not fer want of tryin' on yer part in the last ten-day now was it? Heh! Gettin' afraid Karg gettin' bored of ye now are we?"

Ogrash stepped into the female's face till their eyes met, and gazed with feigned anger into them. There was fear there, but some measure of defiance and pride also welled up as her pale skin reddened. Good. Good. After all, weaklings couldn't be tolerated. A slave couldn't challenge Ogrash herself, but... She continued. "Or maybe she thinks she's special now Ghorza? Thinks she can challenge others above her place in the clan? Answer!"

There was confusion and fear there, the female even getting flustered as Ogrash loomed over her with one hand gripping the gold and leather collar around her neck and forced her to stand on her toes. "Mistress! I did not mean as such I swear! I... um... was..." Her voice lowered, getting nervous and embarrassed. "... drunk, Mistress, and I wished to... um... thank Maste... I think, and... and... wasn't..."

The orc suddenly released her grip and Missy stumbled back as her feet fell fully back down to the stone floor before straightening once again. Her eyes remained lowered but she appeared flustered and upset to Ogrash's eyes. She seemed set to say more but Ogrash cut her off as the human's command orcish faltered. "I believe you slave, for now. Perhaps you just realised what you should have being doing from the start as you were be freed. But considering what little you have to offer I suppose it is no surprise it took you this long."

Of course she understood why Karg hadn't bedded this female: it seemed she was far more useful in teaching him the ways of her magics and in serving as a battle thrall. Bedding an unwilling female would break her or breed defiance within her, as Zah had done with Ghorza. That and Karg was weird in his ways as well. Those ways mostly worked, but they were still weird at first. Freeing Missy now - after displaying her power and his own to the clan of late - would be both a show of strength and a means to handle the growing powers of their slave in one stroke.

If she left then any threat would be removed by and it would show that they had no further need of her abilities... Though it would likely begin a struggle as other females sought to fill such a 'gap' in the household. She expected Mara and Kethri would simply work harder of course, but she had trained them both to fear being freed (or "cast out" as she called it) and being left defenseless in this cold harsh world. Of course if Missy was to stay then the female's new position within the household would need to be defined now before it caused trouble in seasons to come. The same had had to done with the half-elf Tris and the drow Lua when Karg had returned from his quest with them in tow. So she continued speaking while staring down at the human woman.

"Still, you want to be freed is it? Ghorza says it'll impress these humans Karg brought back with you? What benefit is there in freeing, slave?" she growled. "Answer!"

"Yes Mistress Ogrash, freeing this slave would be seen as sign of good faith by those from Longsaddle that have come here at Master's invitation. As Master Karguk and Mistress Ghorza have stated, they are powerful mages who would make bad enemies. It would also be seen as show of your strength to the clan that you no longer need to keep one such as this slave on a leash, and would likely encourage other slaves to serve their masters and mistresses better in the hopes that they too may be freed in future. I... Missy would wish to stay for several seasons at least and continue to serve Master, and yourselves Mistresses, as a free human... in the manner that she currently serves. Master Karguk stated that I would be allowed to continue to hone his own magic and aid in making him stronger in them," Missy replied in a rather straightforward manner. Ogrash and Ghorza had discussed all this beforehand already so her words weren't anything new. Nevertheless, she rested her weight on her staff of office and rub her chin in a thoughtful manner.

"Hmmm... Hmmmm... Yes, those things would be of use to us Ghorza would they not?"

"Yes Ogrash, they would in some ways. Though what status would she claim when she is not bound too, and beneath, us anymore? What right would you have to be around our mate without seeking our agreement?" The subordinate wife snapped, coming back around to face a genuinely confused human. "M-m-mistress?"

Ogrash slammed her staff of office unto the stone floor to grab her attention, and Ghorza stepped away, giving Ogrash an amused glance for a moment as she turned her back to the human. She almost wanted to sigh: Ghorza was enjoying this far too much! Though it was understandable after her fall from power and following return to some of it through Karg. Ghorza, of the two of them, was the most enthusiastic to make Missy a proper lesser wife for Karg so as keep her magic as part of their power-base within the clan. She probably saw a little of herself in the way the human female had been a defeated foe and taken in. That and she wanted 'magically powerful whelps' as she put it. Far from being angered over Missy's actions during the return, Ogrash knew that she had been doing everything to actively encourage them. Ogrash took on a calm and gentle tone with the evidently red faced, confused and sweating human now. In truth she'd held up better than some of her kind's females taken from the other defeated clans Ogrash had heard of.

"What Ghorza means Missy is that we will agree to free you. You have convinced us, as has Karg on your behalf. But you are only allowed as close to our mate by your place as his body slave. You wish to continue to take of his time as you do now, time that could be spent with US his wives, or with his whelps, or gaining us glory. That we cannot tolerate unless you have a place in our den, or you would disrupt its stability by acting above yourself or warring with those beneath us such as the Drow Lua for instance, or Rose who is our apprentice and whose place is known. I remember your clashes with Mara and Kethri a few seasons ago Missy, and we do not want them to reappear again when that collar comes off in the next night or so. If you wish to stay under the wings of our household then you must choose."

"Choose, Mistress?" said the slave in a confused whisper.

"Yes Missy, choose. Whether you are to take your place beneath myself and Ghorza, or to begone from our den and take your place below with the gnome Nimmil and the female Petra. There will be order within our home Missy, for the good of our whelps and each other. Tris has learned this, as has the Drow Lua..." The half-elf if anything was perfect in some ways. Showing the wisdom of the drow Lua in taking her under her wing as the creature was intelligent, yet obedient and submissive. Not that she trusted the drow alone with her whelps, but she'd slotted into a role in the tower beneath them easily enough. Once they decided Missy's new position relative to herself and Ghorza then they could move unto other things...

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