In My Time of Troubles

by Crossposted

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

29. Entry 29

[Karguk 48]

Heights above Bitter Blood Creek

Axes flash, broadsword swing,

Shining armour's piercing ring!

My consciousness expanded for lack of a better way to describe it as I knelt on one knee within the ritual circle, blade thrust into the muddy ground with the hilt in hands as I rested my forehead against it. Getting Zah back here to play general rather brawler was troublesome as ever, but he understood the need at least considering I was going be rather focused on other matters right now as magic rose around me.

Horses run with polished shield,

Fight Those Bastards till They Yield

Bells rang, drums beat, and the war horns sang in my head as chanted the words of the Battle Prayer softly; whispers on the wind as the sun rose with the dawn over the blood-soaked fields. My senses reached out, acolytes and hammering beat of the enchantments igniting the spread of what I liked to think of as a Battle Meditation; behind me the hissing screams of the Hwachas echoed out as a I felt the coming wave of enemies...

Midnight mare and blood red roan,

Fight to Keep this Land Your Own

...and there, blazing like a mystical inferno, at the heart of them was the Fire Giant war-priest or warlock hammering out a similar but twisted effected. Like a wildfire burning through dry brush the fires of rage and hate inflamed the host coming forward; disciplined ranks barely held as the hobgoblins, orcs, and less numerous fire giants roared their defiance to the heavens. Heavens from which arrows now descended upon them as if in a hail, or at least upon many of their numbers as scores fell dying or injured from the blows of our more long ranged weapons.

Sound the horn and call the cry,

How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

Yet here and there amidst the line shields were locked in place to hold off blows like with our testudo formation, or bursts of flames snapped out in a corona of the power of the fierce Surtr to burn them from the skies before they could strike true. But...those little flames in the oncoming wave sometimes guttered and died, consumed by the greater flame at the heart to fuel the magic as the occasional injured warrior amidst the enemy ranks and moved them into the dead category.

Follow orders as you're told,

Make Their Yellow Blood Run Cold

Blood magic, crude but not simple in this case, as I felt and saw the energy of the slain heal others amongst those ranks and gathered under the gathering efforts to inflict bloodlust upon the enemy ranks...strange as some, such as the Hobgoblins, were resisting the effects almost deliberately. Still, my own efforts relied less on those direct effects right than a generalised improvement of focus and moral; orders were crisper, little actions surer, more confident and accurate, as the blessing spread out like the ripples from a stone splashing in the middle of a pond.

Fight until you die or drop,

A Force Like Ours is Hard to Stop

Archers loosed volleys in unison as crisp orders issued out, hands already moving as one before the sound reached their ears, then arrows flying again as the second line of Hwacha fired to add their missiles to our wrath filled strike. Despite this, my main focus now lay upon the ballista behind me, one or two catapults, and the heavy crossbows on the war-wagons and to focus their efforts on the Fire Giants, and upon the blazing inferno of power that was likely leading them.

Close your mind to stress and pain,

Fight till You're No Longer Sane

Or at least this host of them, tens of thousands of souls throwing themselves at each other across the mills of my senses as Zah called out orders and I felt and saw the crude earthen map as if in a game's interactive battlefield of another lifetime. One that Zah and those others leading now felt and saw in their own differing interpretations of the information; now I could see the great upside-down near J shape our lines had taken as they were pushed inwards on the left flank.

Let not one damn cur pass by,

How Many of Them Can We Make Die

But here, where we were beneath the fluttering blue banner with its golden harp, was the spot the great iron plated fire giants with their flaming war-hammers marched towards. Hobgoblins on their right marching in something resembling disciplined shield and spear formation, and their left the now screaming mass of bear-fur clad orcish berserkers who charged forward despite arrows sticking out of flesh. Hearts inflamed with battle fury I noted; the magic of chaos, and fire, and rage roaring up against my own expanded meditation as the horde came ever closer, step by blood soaked step.

Guard your women and children well,

Send These Bastards Back to Hell

A Fire Giant fell, a steel ballista bolt smashing into his head, despite being aimed at his chest, and tearing it clean off as the others roared out together and the charge began with them spread out amongst the orcish wave coming up the hills. Volley after volley of arrows lashed out, bodies falling and being trampled over as the burning flame wave slammed into the steel and cold discipline of the lines beneath me as the war chant howled like a blizzard in response; singing within thousands of minds. But gouts of flame slammed into our lines, actual flamestrikes descending from the heavens unto our forward most ranks - even as spells lashed out in response, from sleep to the lightning that Missy and that mad idiot Harkle Harpell now wielded to strike down the nearest iron-clad fire giant. Spears and halberds thrust out as the wave of bodies once again slammed into our first, just restored, defensive line...

We'll teach them the ways of war,

They Won't Come Here Any More

...driving it back as the wrathful berserking howled and cut their way forwards and we gave ground as I flinched ever so slightly. But the ranks did not break, merely bend as the line fell back to the one behind that and braced themselves as another giant fell as the ground before us burned now, the smell of burning flesh now joining the stink of faeces and sweat that filled the noisy battlefield. Seeing and feeling it all, yet somehow detached in my own little world, as flesh was torn and burned and mutilated as crude weapons, better made ones, and magic itself lashed out from both sides. Reserves were thrown forward, even the dismounted cavalry in our rear areas coming forward with Auxlia, as I felt the great beacon of power that could only be Qilue Veldorn...come forward now and overlooking the battlefield on the higher hill behind me for whatever nerve wracking reasons with Lua and Tris...

Use your shield and use your head,

Fight till Every One is Dead

...but right here and now my mind was elsewhere as I drew upon divine might and my flamestrike came down from the heavens in retaliation blazing with holy flames. Enemies screamed, even a fire-giant having her unhelmeted face burned in a sizzling nightmare at the touch of the white hot energies from the positive energy planes. This strike, and the Defensive Harmony, helped but mass and rage and power pushed our lines back...but not breaking them as more and more little flames were extinguished with each step forward.

Raise the flag up to the sky,

How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

The Hwacha were useless now at close range, and saw-felt the destruction of the last of my magic-tanks as the blazing inferno that was the war-priest smashed it to smithereens with a blow from his hammer of crimson flames. Its impact as it was half-flung backwards temporarily breaking a hole in the second line as warriors on both side raced into the gap screaming war-cries and battle-songs...

Dawn has broke, the time has come,

Move Your Feet to a Marching Drum

Zah, as fucking ever, charged forward now as the great inferno came into view at the head of his charging war-host shouting words of praise to his demon god. My body moved, pushing up to stand as I clung to the Battle Meditation while my blade ignited into white hot flame; harder than I'd like as my wider consciousness waned and more of the here and now came into view as I granted Zah the blessing as I moved to join him and his escort charging the towering monster before us.

We'll win the war and pay the toll,

We'll Fight as One in Heart and Soul

Of course, that height was a disadvantage in some ways as well even as that great two handed war-hammer lashed out from side to side before him; arrows now lashed outwards his face even as we charged down with chants on our lips. Missy's gaze turned, a voice at the back of her tired mind as a lightning bolt lashed out from her hands to slam into the iron-clad war-priest causing the great blazing firestorm within enemy minds to falter a moment...

Midnight mare and blood red roan,

Fight to Keep this Land Your Own

...and then we were upon him and his guards, save were the armoured giant stood alone and injured as our disciplined ranks butchered those orcs who stood before us and him. Zah's magic axe smashing into a kneecap, failing to sever it but enough to stagger the enemy cleric backwards with a roar of agony; my blade, and those my Red Branch Knights stabbing out along with spearheads and spells following alongside. The great flames of wrath pressing against my mind flicker, faltered, and then vanished as our last reserves and Auxlia threw themselves forward all across the line...

Sound the horn and call the cry,

How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

...and on both our flanks the horns roared out, thousands of orcs swarming forward on our left with the great beacon of dark power at its heart I'd come to know so well. And then on our right, on the other side of the marshy grounds coming in on the flank of the great host of the Furry Fucker were disciplined ranks of armoured knights on their war-bred horses with light and medium infantry coming in behind them...

--

[Missasri 28]

Heights above Bitter Blood Creek

"He'll live thank Ilneval..." Karg was muttering leaning back against one of the broken magical war-wagons and gazing out tiredly on the horrifying mass of bodies below, and the battle taking place beyond as the sun shone through the light cloud cover "...Rose you...take Darnak and Jhyurt and stay with Zah and Hippie-Di...I mean Hollawyn. Send someone for me if anything troubles...unless you've any objections Zaljavuk"

The chief bodyguard of the Spartan Chieftain, the surviving one at least despite being injured and unconscious, nodded with an exhausted expression that matched how Missasri felt herself "Of course not Shaman Karguk, she'll be guarded just as I guard my nephew. When will be wake?"

Missasri's orcish husband nodded, wincing as he pushed himself to stand properly "Not for an hour, make a few hours, he's physically fine now but that was a bad blow he took and I burned through his stamina to heal'em and still function. Take whatever squad you need in support and keep him safe till he wakes, understood?"

"Understood Shaman!" the gruff old orc replied banging blood-soaked gauntlet to plate chest-plate as Karg gave young Rose a squeeze of the shoulder and motioned two of his 'Red Branch Knights' to follow her as he had ordered. Missasri merely sat tiredly on the dirty rock, ignoring the smell of the death around her and just feeling numb inside at the carnage...at the great epic battle the bards would someday sing of she expected. In all honesty, she doubted they'd get the depressing horror of it all, just as with adventures she'd listened to all those years ago had proven false war...war was all pomp and glory leaving death and misery in aftermath even in victory.

"Captain Krowluc, your cavalry and our allies?" her husband asked glancing at the half-breed orc dressed as if he was a knight from a tale, a particularly gory one considering the pieces of what looked like brains that slid off that armour, and then out to the battlefield beyond "...capable of joining the melee over there?"

"No Boss, we're spent, the rest are spent and..."

"We're spent too, right..." Karg finished other's reply and earning a firm nod "...I suppose I should just be glad we're strong enough to hold here. Chief Jernak? Kurnak of the Red Axes?"

"Alive but injured, damn near lost a hand. Red Axes Chief is alive, but their battered to all nine hells right now truth be told. Worse than we are Boss" one of the other orc Captains, whose name eluded her for the moment as she pushed herself up to stand beside Karg with her staff. Off in the distance, she could feel the surges of magic, both arcane as well and divine as the air swirled in a dance of positive and negative energy from the bursts of healing and destruction that had taken place here. Some small part of it her own, especially as she felt that she could barely cast more than a few cantrips and maybe low energy spell or two right here and now; wondrous feeling the surge of power through her body...less so the mental and physical tiredness that followed in its wake sadly.

"You might not need them husband after such a stand as this. Our foes are in full retreat it seems, caught on both flanks while the...Holy High Priest Phargk has charged into them with the full weight of the horde" she said in orcish, a well learned tongue to her at this stage, and it was always best to remind these others of her relationship with Karg when not discussing the availability of her magic. It was even more important to do so when her magic was exhausted, though she stood straighter now and moved to avoid showing any signs of weakness to them. In a way it was easier with orcs than with those humans, dwarves, and elves within her home city as they tended to focus on direct strength and confident signs of it and less attention on the more subtle signs of mental fatigue. Karg's drinking of potion that would restore his own stamina, then shrugged and stretched his shoulders for a moment before speaking.

"Yeah, Missy's right there I suppose – for now we heal our injured and get what we can of these defences back into something resembling a semblance of order. Captain Krowluc...send a squad of whatever is your freshest squad, and/or one of the Moonblades ones, and see what the situation is closer to the fighting. Watch out for the goblins we sent forward as well. Squad Leader Caryhdyn your now a Captain, congratulations; now take three squads, any acolytes of mine or other Gods you can find, and another five of Auxlia then start gathering bodies of the dead for ritual destruction that within our lines. Bless and Burn tell them, I don't want a necromancer coming along and trying a raising once our protections start to wane later in the day"

"Yes Boss/Lord" echoed back and Missasri watch the two head off as Karg began to motion with his free hand and issue similar orders to others who had gather around them; disposal of bodies, encamping seemingly upon this position now that the terrifying old Orc Shaman who led this overall host wished to lead the others forward while they continued to hold this place. Thankfully in Missasri's mind, they'd marched all day and then fought all night as the sun now beamed down weakening the already weakened and tired orcs of these clans – and these were the ones most used to that.

'Perhaps why those others are driving back the half-giant Warlord now' she mused staring out into the distance easier than the others at the great swirling clash in the distance. The terrifying old orc and his priests had their magic to aid them, and burning need to avenge the 'dishonour' of retreating in chaos when the battle had begun last night; while those under Warlord were just as tired, but lacking in clerics relatively due to their nature as 'heretics' to the Orcs dark gods '...that and the fact they are facing a force of non-sunlight impaired Uthgardt savages on the other side...no wonder they are being driven back as they are after losing so many here, and then enduring those attacks'

All the while she stood in relative silence as orders and orcs swirled around her now that Karg had been forced into taking charge of this little corner of the hells; bodies been shoved out of the way or even onto crude carts where they were 'honoured' (allied) dead, while injured were brought up in batches to the 'healing camp' at the top and rear of the hilly area they rested upon. While below what had likely once been a sparkling creek amidst some green marshland was now stain a murky red and brown from all the spilled blood and displaced mud that had flowed down into it. Somehow...that just felt sad, like the birds now starting to circle here and further out in anticipation of the feast they believed to be coming their way...from those she feared and hated amongst them, to those she wished had life. And yet...what dominated her thoughts even more was the relief that she, and those close to her, were not amongst those corpses below and how easy that could have occurred.

"The Heretic Warlord is Slain Lord Shaman! Blessed Phargk has slain him and raised his screaming corpse to send against our foes!" an orcish messenger from one of the other clans ran up and said, resting hands on knees to pant from the exertion apparently. And of course avoid looking at the sun, half-blind as the hooded orc was right now and most others were struggling against even the daylight she expected; after all Karg and his now asleep friend the war-chief had pressed them to be trained all the time in that light. Still, tired roars and cheers greeted that little announcement as word spread along the line along with the follow on that the enemy horde was now breaking at the event.

Typical of orcish hordes really, kill the leader and they often came apart Karg though, after a brief moment of seeming relief and good cheer at the news, went back to ordering others around as the armoured warrior from the Spine, Obould, approached with news that *so far* any clashes had been avoided with the savages orcs in human flesh led by the fanatic paladin woman. But Missasri, as her orcish husband, did not see such peace lasting beyond the terms of their agreement...especially now that the enemy warlord was now supposedly deceased. The Uthgardt leader had given her word, but even if her people did not clash with the orcs the fact was the sands of the hourglass was now in motion towards when that oath would come to an end and formal battle reignite.

Something Karg made clear to those around him after a silent, likely telepathic, conversation with the ancient evil orc shaman on the other side of the battlefield as this area and the spot behind were to be the army's camp till it had recovered its strength. It would be a welcome respite, even if just for the chance to rest and restore her spells with a few hours of sleep, be it day or night that they were taken during. She glanced at her orcish husband as he quietened down after a time of tired orders to the orcs that came and went from this impromptu command area amidst the ruined landscape "It will be good to rest, my spells are somewhat...well..."

He nodded keeping his voice low enough for only her to hear "Yeah, same here. Burned out a chunk of energy with that Battle Meditation, and then keeping Zah from getting dead. That Fecker of a Fire Giant...muttermutter...but this isn't a bad spot to encamp once we get a handle on all the bodies...and the brush fires left behind. Heavens above they found a way to make mud catch fire"

"Fire Giants my husband, they are rather creative with what they can burn I suppose" she answered trying to find some sort of humour in this depressing scene. In the end they both needed it she thought gazing out into the distance with him, watching as the amorphous blobs flowed away from them into the rolling plains and smattering of forests they fought amongst. He snorted faintly.

"I suppose that's right Missy, perhaps we should summon them if we ever need to build some brick houses?"

"Hmph, maybe, we should ask Tris and Lua if they'd like one when we go back to the healing area bac..."

She stopped speaking as a flash came off in the distance to her right, followed by a rumble of thunder and her eyes moved in that direction to where, off in the distance, the Uthgardt lay. Then blink as more flashes appeared in her vision, followed by more rumbling thunder as dark clouds appeared in her vision – spreading across the soft blue-grey sky as it advanced towards them ever so slowly...

"What? Phargk fucking told me we weren't..."

Shouts to her left tore her gaze away as Karg did likewise with a "WHAT?"

"Something is appearing on the flank! Sum' them humie scouts ahre sheyin' enemies on the High Shamans flank in the on de sphyghlasses! Ihs an army..."

"...and another on our rite! Enemies on our beyond the Uthgardt too! " one of the 'scouts' shouted as word was shouted out along the lines. Like a mirage vanishing in the desert, something began to appear as lightning continued to fall from a darkening sky...

--

[Karguk 49]

Heights above Bitter Blood Creek

...and things were going so well, then Karguk got put in charge and then they weren't...

Sometimes...like right fucking now...I wondered who'd I'd pissed off enough on the various astral planes to throw these gut-punches at me whenever it looked like my clan and allies were about to win a decisive victory. Or maybe it just that Furry loving bastard Wyrmog had found some way from beyond the grave, not impossible here, of course, to screw over my efforts towards building up something not horrible to live within up here in the Crags. Because thing had just gone from – we've held the line, reinforcements have arrived and killed the enemy general causing us to be winning - to – oh shit everything's falling apart right now all around me! – with limited options available to me right now on how to stop said disaster.

"Report?" I asked-demanded of the returned armoured form of Captain Krowluc, just as I sent runners-up along the line to deal with the chaos breaking out as a fight brought out on the left flank due to chaos. Our cavalry reserve had somewhat dissolved into its component parts with Chief Jernak injured and having issues holding down his own Moonblades and the nature of the injuries and deaths amongst them. That and the fact we'd desperately needed them earlier to brace our lines hours earlier of course; it was proving almost impossible to untangle the messed up and muddled lines beyond having organised chaos over total chaos. Total chaos like what seemed to have happened on the rest of the battlefield as hidden armies slammed into the flanks...causing everything to come apart at the seems as the sun continued to rise in the sky with its uncomfortable rays of light shining down.

'Just another annoyance to add to the happy-happy fun times' I mentally groaned turning away from the bloodsoaked landscape stretched out before me and at the orcish mercenary. Right now I really regretted not bringing Nimmil, and more importantly Dr. Ned, when we were after coming up against what was apparently an army of the so-called 'civilized' races, and therefore, magic use heavy. At least enough to veil themselves enough to track in on the flanks of our various armies...maybe, if what I suspected was true that might not be the case...

"The Uthgardt have come apart, their in full retreat..." the exhausted Captain of the tiny Spartan cavalry contingent stated back simply giving only the briefest motion off to our right before letting it drop again "...and that's definitely the Axe of Mirabar, a big chunk of it, with full-on mage support. I don't have Nimmil to confirm, but looks like poison clouds and mind magic were used. We had to fight our way there and back, and that's our own lot not the Mirabarans – once saw their banners came straight back like ye wanted. They'd have cut us apart as were anyway Boss, their in good order and our lot ain't...whole flank is breakin' down over there, an' either the Hobs have switched sides or they've just crazy; they be killin' any orc that comes in range of'em. Ours or those who were allied with'em"

"Great, just what we need, crazy hobgoblins..." I muttered to nobody in particular before focusing back on the situation spiraling before me "What direction are they moving in? Strenght?"

"Towards us, or the centre before us at least, and it's most of the Axe I'd reckon, sum'a'where between a thousand and two thousand looks like too me. Comin' forward mite sluggishly, but their cutting through anyone gets in their way so...hour maybe, though could be even less; but they're going fer leaders I'd reckon. Cut the head off the Horde and an' it all comes apart as they say"

'And isn't that the truth' I admitted to myself as I turned to my impromptu 'command staff' of whoever was half-competent within the ranks with an 'Opinions' as the collapse became more apparent. Mirabar was on the left, clearly having turned on the Uthgardt mercenaries of theirs; probably doing just that and taking out the Crazy Lady who led them first and hoping the rest disbanded in the chaos as seemed to have happened. Just as the Furry Fucker's Horde had disintegrated with his death, and ours was doing apparently after being hit by the two small armies after exhausting ourselves fighting all night and morning. Sure we were holding firm, but that was largely due to us being the reserve and therefore not in the forefront of the attack.

'Course the Uthgarht could have known the Mirabarans were there the whole time' I admitted to myself as I listened to the various 'suggestions' from the three other clans 'Captains', Missy, the ever-dangerous Obould, and one or two others like Krowluc who I'd managed to grab together under the best (for what one could manage) protected area on the heights in case of scry and fry attempts. Blood bells gave a headache by now, but at least they should interfere with any magical attempts on us...for now. One could hope I was low on the totem pole of intended targets right now, the negotiator with said backstabbing, traitorous, fucks whose city was going to have visit someday should I survive this betrayal. I'd expected betrayal from the Uthgardt, or Kurnak, or even Darth Phargk come victory...this was somewhat out of left field despite trying to maintain a calm...or less than shout irritable...veneer I tried to put up.

"You had warned of such Shaman, it seems the humans are tricksy and prepared as you warned in their village, is best to hold here for the now Shaman? Or charge to High Shaman Phargk and seek battle there?" Obould grunted at me and I resisted blinking in...ah, yeah, seemed he'd recalled that conversation in Longsaddle and was seeing our holding here till now as we fear such as this. Wish I'd been as prescient about the whole thing, but I'd planned on stabs-in-the-back other than this right now...later on mayhap, but not taking out all groups in the one blow. That was a rather ambitious plan...

"Might be best we pull back a-ways, or at least regroup with the High Shaman an' his allies and make our stand back in the hills..." Captain Krowluc queried, getting grunts of agreement from one or two others along with glares or snarls of 'coward!' from others "...we've done what we needed to, killed the Warlord and gotten ambushed. Best thing now is ta' fight our way out of this trap and fight'em on our terms. Cuz, if that's Mirabar on our left takin' out the Uthgardt, an' Luskan on the right charging into Lord Phargk's and what's left of the Warlord's host, then they've allied against us and not gettin' kilt' off counts as winnin' in this here rider's humble view"

"The danger is the magic they wield Karg...I mean husband, their mages are many and while likely drained from veil such an approach...but could easily have powers left to destroy far greater forces before them if they have strenght to throw about Cloudkill or similar spell as Captain Krowluc has seen. We may have some counter-spells and dispells ready, but other allied clans have not prepared for such battles. It would be difficult to guard them on such exposed ground as this" Missy stated, to me but in a 'stage voice' loud enough to be heard by the other clan leaders nearby.

In orcish too so she was trying to hint to me, but to them, that it was likely a bad idea to linger too long and try to repeat our strategy of standing here and let the enemy charge up at us. Not that I disagreed per se, the Hwacha's ammunition was largely depleted the same as our stocks of arrows and crossbow bolts, and I was too drained to start trying another 'Battle Meditation' same as Missy had little magic to give either. Still...I couldn't just run because that would provoke a collapse along with our part of the line...

'Still, we're getting stomped here and I've no idea if Phargk is alive or dead' I noted then started motioning, pretending at confident orders. Always look what you know what your doing when in charge...even when you don't have much of a chance of pull off victory and panic threatened to rise; a combination of magic and potionering holding it down. I always figured the Boss 'tinkered' with that, but it didn't matter right now – all that mattered was trying to recover the situation in some small manner before the situation got any worse.

"Okay I've listened, here's the plan; I want runners to get me Chiefs Kurnak and Jernak, we can't lurk around here while that lot tear the horde apart. I want any squads, cohorts, that are fresh enough and combat ready to form up. Hreshgk, same with my acolytes and any others, you gather them up. My plan to march forward on our right with Auxlia skirmishers, we'll try and rally we can ahead of us, link up with High Shaman Pharghk, and work to slow down the Mirabarans; while we're doing that I want the injured, the wagons, the Hwacha, and anything we can move to withdraw back to the fallback camps in formation...Krowluc, Obould, I want you to try keep some sort of order amongst at those that other clans trying to flee into the hills. Rally who you can, kill any who cause trouble, and hold this position with the remaining squads..."

Between our forces, my clan, Moonblades, and Red Axes, I should be able to gather several hundred (albeit tired) warriors to launch a either a spoiling attack or even find out if Phargk lived or died out in that mess beyond me. Considering reaching him via magic had failed that could indicate many things, most of the bad, but even if that was the case delaying our enemies was the name of the game right now. Orcs fought badly in daylight, but at least those forces around me could tolerate it and we should have enough spells left to hold off some of our newfound enemies magical attacks. Hopefully, we had anyway...

...but if we didn't, then standing here in easy line of site without much field-artillery was just asking for magical death-dealing attacks on us. In my view then the best of bad options was to advance forward to where the ground was marsh, broken, and had cover from trees, bushes, and all the other things that would make attacking through it hard. Honestly...retreating right now was my gut instinct, with Old Breyjuk dead, Zah injured, and the fact my forces were completely exhausted.

But logic, and pragmaticism rather than any heroic urges, indicated that if I just waited here it was waiting for magical destruction and if retreating would just mean a total collapse and our enemies advancing even faster. That, and the unhappy fact it could heat me killed at worst, while at best leading to armed confrontations as I lost authority by refusing to do the 'right thing' and fight the enemy. If I could launch a spoiling attack, survive, we might just have time to rally this chaotic mess...

--

[Interlude 11]

--

Prelude to the Deluge: The Forgotten War in the Crags

Authored by Tarfinri Agosil, Scholar of Candlekeep

...the wisdom then of some within the inner circles of both Luskan and Mirabar at the foolishness that was the Assembly of Longsaddle was apparent. Even if [in the end] it was a doomed endeavour due to short-sightedness amongst other factions of these city-states, it is shown by the Battle of Six Armies that strong and decisive actions against the savage races was prepared even afore the ferocious Orcish Warlord and his monstrous allies were defeat. Swiftly, decisively, and honourably, the combined armies of Dendybar, Master of the North Tower of Luskan and Agrathan Hardhammer of Mirabar's Council of Sparkling Stones struck at the barbarian hordes as they were thrown into chaos as the sun rose along with their blades.

Indeed both of these armies had wisely prepared for this occasion, misdirection and thinking ahead strategically allowed them to fool the Uthgardt contingent into seeing them as potential allies, rather than righteous avengers of the civilized races as the Axe aimed to be that bloody day. With the death of the ferocious half-breed Warlord at the charge of savage orc and barbaric Uthgardt the terms of the Assembly at Longsaddle had been met, and those more far-sighted members within the city-state's now moved to correct that error. From the east the assembly of the Axe struck the surprised and now over-extended Uthgardt forces; scattering them and slaying their leaders even as from the west the army of the Master of the North Tower drove into the flank of the by now exhausted and disorganised orcish horde of Ilusk.

Radiant beneath the shining sunlight these brave men, dwarves, and some few elves, drove into the vastly larger orcish horde – but by their courage and the blessings of the Gods began to drive the savage forces before them with spell and sword. While some scholars, biased ones of a lesser racial heritage of course, wish to present the then 'Legion' of Illusk from that time as the same mettle to the armies of the City-State's of Luskan, Mirabar, and even Neverwinter - all one must do is point to the crushing of these forces at the Battle of Six Armies to prove them in error. True they were a great danger, but where offered a fair and honest fight as occurred on that day it is clear that they were no match to a united fighting force of the two civilized cities of the northern lands.

Despite being outnumbered that day by ten-to-one [perhaps even thirty-to-one by more trustworthy human and dwarven witnesses] the coalition of Illusk and Sky-Pony was driven from the field in full retreat within mere hours of the rise of dawn. Only circumstance and misfortune would sadly spare the lives of the more senior orcish leaders, injury and cowardice allowing them to escape the field even as they sacrificed their followers to save their lives in an act of cruel cunning. Even the feared orcish wizard-general Karguk the Enslaver, apprentice of the dread necromancer Nedorious of Many-Colours, and his band of human traitors, half-breed warriors, and Harper trained orc shock legionnaires were no match for Axe's forward momentum.

Again certain, heavily biased, sources wish to pretend that these forces were outnumbered by the Axe, merely launching a delaying action that succeeded rather than what it was;- a failed counter-attack before the orcs fled the field in disorder as had the Uthgardt before them. Survivors of the Axe from the day clearly witnessed and recorded that was later to become the 'Shrouded Legion' numbered in the thousands upon their counter-charge rather than the few hundred certain parties wish to believe for flawed reasons. No, with every moment passing as the sun rose in the sky the Harper supported alliance of the savage races was driven steadily from the field; first in a trickle, then in a great flowing river back into the mountains to their south.

So great was the slaughter that day that the land, streams, and creek over which the battle was fought was stained red for many a moon afterwards; three armies of the darkness bloodied and the broken on that day that should have heralded the end of such dangers for a generation. Indeed of the three armies only the Harpell and Harper led Illuskan forces, and of these only a small part, had retained their leadership and cohesion in some small manner; even if only in the crudest and most barbaric forms as they fled the field. At this point a decisive blow could have finished this threat, effectively ending the War in the Crags and ensuring a superior outcome to the Great Northern War in the time beyond this.

Sadly it appears the combined armies of the North Tower and Mirabar were unaware of the survival of many of the Illuskan leadership; all sources indicating that they had believed the heavily injured High Priest Phargk the Conqueror slain. Or at the very least so badly injured that his minions would slay him once such weakness was seen as with most all orcish before this one; a mistake, but an understandable on in the context of the time period and the then misunderstood nature of the new orcish kingdom rising within the Crags by both Luskan and Mirabar. Perhaps if more time had been available to them, or the scale of the orcish dead left upon the field not be so great as to disguise the matter, a differing outcome would have been arrived at and the growing darkness within the hills left to fester in the months that followed.

Despite this Council of Sparkling Stones had encouraged many adventuring bands to quest against the savage forces of the Crags in the run-up to the great battle, and despite the disaster that befell the city of miners many of these bands had already departed to harry the fleeing host of orcs and their allies. A rare showing of wisdom in those dark days from the city before the Sack, but one that would be undone by the dark, twisted, actions of that arch-traitor, fool, and undead monstrosity; Arklem Greeth of the Host Tower. For it was as the sun shone down on the victorious allies, as they went about the world of ensuring all of their foes were indeed truly, or fled from the field, that the Lich struck against its rivals.

For the Luskan army of Dendybar the Mottled had been betrayed even before he had marched forth to ally with the forces of Mirabar in an effort to halt the rising dark tides within the savage northern lands. Even as the went about their task, elements of it turned upon their supposed allies as soon another army of the Host Tower arrived; spearheaded by the very scouts sent to watch the rear of Dendybar's army. With great wickedness, striking by betrayal and seeking to steal the hard-fought victory of others did the Lich's army strike. And strike true despite the great battle that raged between the tired mage of the North Tower and his allies against Greeth and his dark Drowish allies who had been summoned from the bowels of the earth. Disorganised, betrayed from within, those opposed to the Lich Archmage fought on, side by side with the Axe of Mirabar.

But it was not to be, for fate had turned against them by the dark schemes of the undead Archmage who would make himself Lord of the North in that demented, foolish, method of the damned. Across the battlefield the dead rose, joining with the recently arrived army of the Host Tower and it's mercenaries to try and overwhelm the Axe of Mirabar and its scattered allies. Despite these advantages though, and the twisted nature of the attackers' tactics in striking from ambush and surprise, Greeth and his allies would fail to achieve that endeavour in its entirety. For while almost two-thirds of the Axe were destroyed on that bloody day, and all but a few hundred of their Luskan allies surviving, the remainder would destroy these summons and inflicted great destruction upon the Lich's army before cutting their way back up the river...

--

Note: Now there we go, the Sixth Army arrived and won. Anyone guess that?

[Karguk 50]

Northern Hills, The Crags

"Wakey-wakey sleeping beauty...now, nothing else bothering you? Time, sadly, is growing short since we're retreating so if you need healing now is the time Zah" I grumbled tiredly at Zah as he pushed himself upwards from the wagon he'd been resting/sleeping upon as our exhausted forces trudged their way southward. His elven wife and village leader of the annoyingly named Zahgorim's Conquest, had rolled off from his dozing form to kneel beside him and glance at myself as I rode awkwardly alongside the wagon. Horses had never really been my thing, but I was working on fumes and potions right now though, and walking would drain more than I'd like considering the situation.

"Ughh...my head...wait, retreat? How the fuck did we manage to lose?" he started groggily, then startled rubbing at his head with one hand and holding his now lightly armoured bulk up as the wagon creaked forward alongside all the others we'd managed to salvage. Rose, who'd been dozing against the head of the wagon, had also woken up with a yawn and looking at me tiredly. What was left of Zah's bodyguard marched alongside the wagons, with my own on just behind as the sounds of marching feet, creaking wagon wheels, and sounds of arms and armour in motion filled my ears on this warm summer night. Not much talking though, defeat tended to bring grumbling or silence outside of orders being shouted I'd found over the course of this march; just like the last time at the Field of Blood after the Furry Fucker's stab-in-the-back there. I sighed tiredly...I was doing a lot of that lately it seemed.

"Technically we beat Wyrmog actually, after ye got knocked they were breakin' apart and runnin' for those snowy northern hills...then we got stabbed in the back by those Mirabaran bastards. Seems they and Luskans hooked up to attack us and the Uthgardt, their leader got fried by lightning as well by the way, and took us by surprise...Dar...Shaman Pharghk lives, barely back under guard a wagon a little further back. Horde's started to come apart at the seams since...you've been out...dunno, most of the day and early night. Figured best have you fully healed and rested when you woke up...I'm...I need rest Zah, and we're barely keeping this disaster together as it is and I need my spells. Urgently"

...unfortunately that required me to actually get a decent rest period, especially after being up now...oh, two days straight by now maybe?

Brief dozing when feasible along with the last dregs of my potion bag had kept me functional, but had done nothing to address the fact I'd burned through both arcane and divine magic to get to this point. A rather pressing concern since groups were turning on each other after the defeat, as I had feared really, and it had defaulted to the bloody of work of killing anyone who caused too much trouble. Sadly since I was one of the few senior 'leaders' of our merry alliance uninjured, and more importantly not trying a 'change in leadership' like one or two minor clan-chief idiots whose corpses were now impaled on stakes. Time-consuming yes, but examples needed to be made for Order to be maintained; far too many thought that with Phargk near death, or dead in the view of some, the chaotic stupid urge to 'me strongest!' rose up to try ensure that he was what they believed him to be.

"Fuck"

"Yeah"

Zah grumbled, giving his head another shake, then looking around and motioning at one of his nearby bodyguards "Right, get me my bloody armour one of ye? I trust it wasn't lost!"

"No it's fine, just cleaning the blood off them and needed them out of the way so that myself, then Rose and Hollaywn here, could heal you..." I answered motioning at wagon behind us and at the clan-orc "...get it for the Chief, and get his weapons too while you're at it"

"Right...hurry the fuck up and get me my weapons...now, right, Karg so where are we then? Marching too?"

"South of the camp we'd setup before the battle and moving for the one we'd established before that, it's us, Night-tombs, and Red Axes, riding herd on whatever's here. Moonblades are bringing up the rear under Chief Jernak, he's injured but not as badly as the rest of ye all were..."

I motioned off into the distance to our right "...Uthgardt have fled back in that direction...we think anyway as there's been bands seen, but can't really investigate...mostly because their broken up badly, and we're shedding the clans who we had to forced to follow us as well"

"Every orc for themselves?"

I sighed tiredly and nodding at his grumble while sat up; taking the armour and weapons brought forward to them by two of the veteran clan-orcs "Yes, or idiots wanting to declare themselves King of the Hill since we've been forced to retreat"

He grunted "Of course there are, fuck...anything going our way? Bloody Breyjuk dead, battle lost! Grrr!"

"Drow Lady and her priestesses haven't turned on us, not fighting with us more than in self-defence, but they did heal up a bunch of our clan-warriors for one. They're being escorted up ahead of us by the way. Next, Red Axes and Kurnak haven't turned on us yet so that's a positive I guess, and the plan is to encamp temporially at their stronghold before planning out next move. Our losses aren't devastating either, tons of walking wounded but...maybe an eight, sixth?...actually amongst the dead or lost. We just need time to rest and recover, and so far there hasn't been any pursuit from the human armies beyond a what are either scouts or adventuring bands at the fridges...we think, skirmishers found bodies of deserters and a few dead humans and elves near them as we march"

We'd lost most of the Hwacha, and all three 'Magic Tanks', in the process of retreating but those were acceptable (albeit teeth grinding) losses along with a chunk the war-wagons to keep the majority of the clan's soldiery alive. My spoiling attack had bogged down swiftly, but the Phargk had been dragged out alive and the Axe of Mirabar had gotten even more bogged down – especially when other clan's charged into the fray just as we'd pulled back. The battlefield had become a confused mess really; Wyrmog's clan's fighting us and each other, Hobgoblins seeming to fight everybody but the Luskans, confused 'allied' clans turning on each other as chaos and rage took hold...or just sought to settle old scores amongst themselves. Pulling back, and getting out an organised retreat of a portion of the Horde had been a brutal and bloody affair, let alone what it had cost in using up our primitive logistics system to achieve it.

Breyjuk's death was going to be a problem, Breyza in theory taking his place or not, in the wake of the defeat – but one we couldn't really admit too outside the leadership. For now it was the fact we'd crushed and slain Wyrmog before being betrayed and ambushed by the armies of the city-states; not a defeat, but bravely fighting our way of their trap to get revenge upon them at a later date. Right now...that seemed to be the belief amongst our shard of the overall Horde at least, it was the exhaustion and desire to get somewhere to rest that was the dominating mood rather than fear. Well, that and anger of course; all these uppity little johhny come lately's who'd turned upon us were going regret it very, very, soon unless their clans made amends in the coming months. Because once we rallied out forces and survived anyone who followed us into the hills, then...

'First, focus on surviving the next few days buddy' I reminded myself as the elven woman and Rose helped Zah into his armour on the trundling wagon and grunted again before replying "So, regroup...that's the end of the campaignin' for the year isn't it?"

I shrugged "As an army like we marched out with, maybe...definitely, but it still looks like we'll have to remind the more wayward clans whose still in charge, and deal with the Sky Ponies before they get organised...but falling back would be my suggestion till we know what we're up against. Nothing certain, like those armies don't change their minds and follow us into the Crags an' finish us off as a threat. We fall back, link up with the rest of our clan's and allies forces, and then make a stand on ground of our choosing"

"Surprised you sp...saved the ancient one Karg, since he were out in the centre of the line"

"Charged in with a couple of squads, needed to slow up those bloody humans and dwarves when they started throwin' about poison and mind magic, whole army coulda come apart there an' then I was afraid..." I shrugged, much as I feared and disliked the Orcish Sith Lord...the alliance needed the evil old bastard alive to not fall into outright civil war right now "Need to get organised again, face down what's coming our way..."

--

When: Summer, 1356 Dale Reckoning, The Year of the Worm

Where: Fallback Camp, Somewhere in the Northern Crags

So, long story made short; battle lost despite beating Wyrmog and now we're on the defensive with the Horde we'd assembled reduced a third or a quarter of what it was pre-battle. A chunk dead of course, but the majority just dispersed to the winds like our *also* beaten and back-stabbed 'allies' in the Uthgardt. I full well expected them to go for the alliance back-stab, or maybe Kurnak and his Red Axes, or a group of minor clans, or just anybody but Mirabar allying with Luskan to stomp on us.

Because, evidently, I'm not paranoid enough to ensure our safety – and in retrospect I should have seen it coming, really I should, but I'd have figured Mirabar would at least wait a few seasons before trying to do us in!

Sorry, I'll admit I'm venting and time is short; that and it's hard to write out in the wilds with things to be done now that I'm up and about. Slept for a day I've been told, much of the loud-bloody-shouty period before that is a blur now really, and it's depressing and stressful now my mind is clear somewhat. Really wouldn't it be great if it had all been one bad dream?

But not to be, we lost, Old Breyjuk's dead along with an unacceptably high number of my clan's warriors, and I've no gods-damned idea how to deal with two city-states armies if they come after us. All I can hope there is that they don't follow us into the mountains (as they never do historically), or gift us enough time to retreat back to the Red Axes stronghold and reorganise ourselves to fight on the defensive.

The good news is that Zah's alive despite a bad blow needing healing, as did my household (by ensuring they were kept off the frontlines as best I could), along with that we managed to keep Phargk alive. He's healing, but's old and badly injured so it's more than just 'heal' and more waiting for him to recover from said healing; one only hopes it's sorted by the time we arrive in the Red Axes stronghold in the next few days.

Could be tomorrow even if scouts report a pursuit, and one thing I don't want is the sneaky bastard Kurnak getting ideas about 'regime change' amongst us. I like to think he's smart enough to not think that way with human city-states ganging up on us and the Sky Ponies – but I won't be caught out by not being paranoid enough this time!

Hope for the best and plan for the worst this time, with the worst being on the extreme end of backup plans sadly; there are caverns nearby in case of dragon attack as best I recall for instance. Really if we can just rest a little well be somewhat fighting fit again, though far weaker than we were, and if we survive then it's back to war upon the dirty traitors amongst our former ranks that turned on us during the retreat. Once I get them...they will regret their decision. Oh yes they will, so help me Ilneval. Order will prevail.

--

When: Summer, 1356 DR

Where: Stronghold of the Bloody Glaive Peak, The Crags

Okay, I'll admit the Red Axes relocated and fortified themselves in a pretty decent location here in the Crags – even if the rat bastard appears to be copying my clan's farms and such in a cruder and more traditionally orcish manner. That aside, it's a mountain valley with caves, tunnels, and ruined old watchtower/farmhouse-fort at the heart of their stronghold; though that's only the outline we've seen so far and much of the 'housing' is underground or in the hill behind the farm-fort-place.

For now myself and Zah have decided to encamp at, then fortify, a location near one of the southern passes along with our recovering Shaman Sith-Orc and his clan, with the Moonblades holding the eastern one. Easier to breakout of if need be, but also for handling the dribs and drabs of the army following in behind the main column of the retreat. Beyond that we've sent word to our own stronghold of what has occurred, and be ready for attacks – really one of us (me or Zah) needs to head back but we're also needed here, so it's another issue to be sorted in the next few days.

Like keeping the peace between various clans, tension there, and tempers fraying with defeat amongst the smaller clans, our auxlia, and of course the big giant dangers in the shape of the Drow priestesses and Harkle Harpell. Putting everyone to work for battle preparations helps with keeping things organised, once you get passed the bloody threats and occasional death from those who object to being told what to do. Lose a battle, lose a bit of the fear, and therefore lose 'respect' etc, etc, so establishing the hierarchy with Phargk still in his tent has been a constant effort by myself and that creepy bastard who serves the old monster Mirrinock, Priest of Shargass.

On the bright side; I, we, think the Luskans and Mirabarans have fallen out with each other already as a few of the other clans scouts reported fighting between them, and undead near the battlefield. Possible of course, definitely stupid too, but entirely possible based on what Missy and the others know of the hatred between the two cities and I can only hope that they have done just that. Because if they have it would make something go right after these setbacks, and that would be nice. Really it would.

Still one cannot assume that they have, and this isn't a trick, so we assume for now they are coming for us still – because there are definitely scouts, raiders, or even worse adventurers, starting to be lurk about judging from the bodies found at various stages along our route here. Both ours, traitors of ours, and one or two that very clearly aren't any of ours and supposedly can't be explained by anything but someone/thing following behind the wake of our army.

--

When: Battle aftermath day four

Where: Red Axe's Stronghold

Bloody day, had to wade into a 'dispute' between two small clans (warbands of young idiots is a better description) after it turned into a brawl, and then general mini-battle as they turned on us. Long story made short those who resisted got dead, those who 'started' the thing got heads chopped off, and two of my clan-orcs along with three Red Axes are dead.

Oh, and Turkhli's Butchers and Clan Nightpeak no longer exist and are being folded into other clans who'll beat sense into them assuming they survive. While the number of 'important' clans has risen from three to four in our merry alliance of Illusk (damned scheming Kurnak and our dire straits!) the fact is I've been given carte blanche to restore order to our host.

And I can assure you; Order Will Be Restored.

--

When: Summer, 1356 DR

Where: Red Axe's Stronghold, Crags

We got raided last night. Well, the Moonblades were rather than us, but still it was a night raid in force which is problematic as it was a night attack, by masked and armoured figures who took no losses. At least that we're aware of anyway – they hit one of the outward patrols by bows, slipped through one of minor clans guarding a half-completed watchtower and then...

They scouted and pulled back? Saw something and changed their minds?

Whatever the case they used magic, left humanoid boot marks if few, and left no witnesses to their little break in either. Now they didn't get far into the camp, only the outer line before changing their mind, but scouts have gone out and we haven't found further proof of them nearby. I'm increasing our guards, doubling training rotations, and that Shargass worshipping assassin Mirrinock has readied three hidden 'kill-squads' of various clans better ambushers in ground we know is 'sneak-able' behind the guard blocks I've setup.

Didn't tell our guards either, case its adventurers (probably is) and stupid idiots give it away. Similarly strengthening our fortification and guard efforts around our central camp – put the every concerning Harkle, and Qilue plus priestesses, right beside my cave area and shifted guards into layered patrols at the chokepoint and some warning wards against non-orcs passing around them.

Despite this, or perhaps worrying maybe due to this, we've seen no sign of an enemy army approaching or trying to move around us since our retreat from the field. What scouts and shamans using familiars have found nothing that size nearby; though they did hide themselves the last time so one must plan on this being probing of our defences in preparation of an attack?

One can only try be ready and rebuild our strength as swiftly as possible.

--

[Krowluc 19]

Camp, Bloody Glaive Peak, the Crags

"Dunno, always preferred bit ah stuffed pork, or some sizzlin' bacon...nuffin' beats a nicely slaughtered and cooked hog ah find..." Bareyaras was cheerfully telling them as he greedily filled his bowl from the cook-pot before anyone else in the company "...but mutton stew be damned good either! Bout fukkin' time we got a proper bit of feed inta us I say, after all the marchin' and killin' of that useless bastard who thought he were some sorta warlord"

"Thats bloody great Bareyaras!" Krowluc grumbled at one of his half-elven lieutenant as the Company lounged around the cook fires within the Spartan part of the camp "...now would get out of damned way and let the rest of the Company get their own bleedin' bowls instead standin' in their bleedin' way!"

"Yah, fer a scrawny fuckin' elf you do a lot ah eatin' and drinkin' along with with never shuttin' yer fuckin' mouth!" the orc Dargunk muttered as he lounged in his armour like the rest of the Spartan cavalry beneath the moon and star lit night sky. Others chuckled, or muttered to hurry up with the food as the camp around moved with the purpose as patrols went out or returned, or weapons and armour were repaired in the usual impromptu forges, fletchers, or carpenters needed.

Bareyaras gestured back at the orc, earning a few laughs and jeers of his own at his words "Need all the energy that ah need buddy! Ah'am a Lover and a Fighter, and that there combination needs a hearty meal and fine booze so this here rider can keep all the ladies happy!"

"Well this here lady wants her gods be damned dinner Bareyaras!" their gnomish wizard shouted back at him "...so shove off and let someone serve me me grub!"

"Phhftt! Yer no fukkin Lady Nimmil, no more than ah am!"

"Oh I'm all woman ye whore of a half-elf!" the gnome snapped back, motioning at herself and then clicking her fingers causing sparks to flare in the night air "...now unless ye wanna lose those balls ya love so much and try bein' half the woman I am I suggest ye git! Git and let me git mebloody grub!"

"Oi, knock it off you lot!" Krowluc snapped shaking his head at the idiocy he'd inherited, motioning at the various idiots "...Bareyaras get out of the way and let the two females there serve our bleedin' dinner. Now, unless you plan on standing there fattening yourself up to become our dinner I suggest you sit yer ass down now, right?"

A crude one handed salute "Yer orders Captain I obey!"

"Ya better if ya know what's good fer ya" Krowluc muttered, earning a soft wave of chuckles as two of the younger riders began dishing up stew, bread and hard cheese up to distribute now that their 'cook' had finally gotten out of their way. As Captain a large bowl was thrust into his hands almost immediately as he spoke, clarifying other unfortunately necessary orders "...and none of that bloody Lover crap from any of ye with the bleedin' Drow from any of ye lot alrite! I don't want any of ye getting a fatal case of 'stuck-by-sword-itis' bother the crazy priestesses! Understood?"

"It's not that sorta sword ah'd..."

"Shut up Egar!"

"Weren't me said it Wizard Nimmil! It were Leader Bareya..."

"Oh I know he did, but you were thinkin' it too! Sly little human Bareyaras..."

Krowluc tuned out the laughter and general interplay of the company as they rested as best they could when battle could be soon at hand should the two city-states decide to pursue them into the hills. Even if he doubted they would, just sending raiders as they seemed to be doing with those dogging the army's heels. Mirabar and Luskan hated each other too much to ally for long; most likely Mirabar had back one of the factions and they were even now marching eastward on the City of Sails to try change the leader of the Host Tower. Or something to that effect anyway.

Warring in the Crags just weren't worth the risk of losing an army for the two cities, especially after such an unusually inclusive battle against an orcish horde as this one must have been for them after all. Still the camp was on guard, both against raiders and the danger of some other clan losing themselves to some crazy idea of taking charge or killing auxlia. Though after Shaman Karguk had impaled a dozen fools for various 'crimes' that shouldn't be an issue Krowluc figured. Especially since the army was being kept well fed, with booze and bed-warmers also in good supply; it was only the idiots who'd try steal and rape in that situation after all.

'Course world is full of that sort, especially after a fight like that and all the chaos whether a big battle like that is won or lost' he mused glad of the decent tasting stew, hard badly made bread aside, as he chewed on the mixture of meat, vegetables and roots in the warm broth. They'd gone on short rations for two ten-days nearly, where they even had a chance to eat between brief rests, as they moved to battle and then withdrew back here after slaying the Warlord Wyrmog. What's worse the crumbling in the 'alliance' of orc clans had happened already...and that meant a few seasons of rather nasty campaigning lay ahead to 'bring them to heel' so to speak.

'Which, assuming we survive of course, shouldn't be too bad for earning titles and lands I'd expect' he mused dunking the hard bread to soak in the stew a little while before eating it with the strong cheese. Things were civilizing here in the Crags in some ways, and Krowluc could see a path to being a petty lord of some nice hilltop fort or valley...just maintain his cavalry force, and marry them all up after deepening his current allegiances to this new Illusk. It'd mean getting a wife or two of course, but that was an acceptable sacrifice to produce a few sprogs to carry on the bloodline with a few sessions with said marriage alliance females. The reliable clans and mercs had stayed and...

Bells rang and drums began to beat...

...Krowluc surged to his feet, hand reaching for his sword hilt while the other grabbed the helm that had been beside him "RIGHT! YOU LOT! UP! UP! FORM UP!"

"Is it another bloody drill?" one of the grumbled, but they were moving (sluggishly in the case of the newer recruits sadly) into action just as he had while another complained "...another fight between idiots down below? Come'on we just gettin' ta rela..."

"STOW IT! FORM UP! NOW!" he roared out slamming the helm down unto his head, noise of shouts and then snarls echoing in from nearby. Sounds of confusion, and weapons be drawn and readied just as it was with his Company...but also the faint echo of blade on blade, of a flash of light not too far off in the distance. And what could easily be screams mixed in with the noise of the drums and bells sounding the alert of enemies in the camp.

Seconds...minutes, passed as shields and weapons came into hand and all around them bodies were in motion; orders shouted, and warnings pointed...

"Enemies there! Enemies there! Move! Move!" one of the squad leaders from amongst the infantry came into view motioning towards where flames seemed to be erupting along with movement towards where the Shaman had encamped the mad nude dancing sword drow. The sounds of fighting was clear there too now; Krowluc stalked forward with his squads forming up around him, while behind guards formed up around the other entrances to the inner ring of the camp as was their duty. Rare to see, but discipline within the 'Illuskan Legion' was harsh Krowluc found and that meant orcs from those 'disciplined' clans did what they were damn well told to do.

...steel clashed on steel, shouts, war-cries, and roars of pain filled the air...

...a whip of flame filled the air as he and dozens of feet raced forward, slashing at warriors a distance away from him. A dozen figures clad in dark armour, and armed with dark shimmering blade were moving surrounded by bodies of fallen allies, as white hair spilled into the moonlit night from the wielder of the lash of flames along with snarled words he didn't understand. Likely curses he assembled as he brought his shield up and absorbed a thrown dagger aimed for his throat...but rushed forward with a roar into the nearest shorted figure. Smashing shield into the fancy helm clad head while blocking a sword thrust from the blade held in the other's hand with his own blade...

...caught trying to grab for another throwing dagger his foe stagger, blood spilling from the dark skinned face as the enemy fighter staggered backwards...

Slam. Slam. Slam.

Shield bashing sprawled the foe who'd seen the danger of the blade but not the shield, and was finished off moments later by Kyra's beside him with a spear thrust into the neck. Skilled and dangerous fighters...assassins...these foes seemed to be, but now a hundred orcs in heavy armour were descending upon them from all directions as Krowluc and four of his warriors blocked, slashed, and parried with a two blade wielding idiot.

A skilled idiot with two blades, but the flawed and failed style was quickly overcome as shields blocked and spears thrust though the enemies defence as a flare of light engulfed the whip wielder followed by a snarl of pain. Nimmil's magic at work. Then all was hack and slash, barely noticing as the warriors with fiery blades came down crying the name of the orcish god of...

--

[Karguk 51]

Camp, Bloody Glaive Peak, the Crags

My blade left its scabbard as I stomped towards the flares of magic and sounds of battle not too far away in the midst of the camp. All around me everything seemed to be in motion as the alarm was sounded of 'enemies in the camp' – as if one couldn't draw that conclusion as a blast of flame erupted out against the blackness of the cloudy night before me. I snarled unhappily as tents caught a flame and roars and screams of pain filled the air as my bodyguard fanned out around me their own blades coming into hand and igniting with white hot fury, flames illuminating the night around them.

Forming up around them shields and spears were being readied, orders shouting from my mouth for guards to hold position and watch for other raiders; there could easily be many more of them about as the ones who'd breached our wards fought. Fought, and hopefully died, I thought drawing deeply of the well of power from the Boss, the blood crimson spectral armour of Ilneval shimmering barely visible over my red chainmail and the plainer helm atop my head. I'd barely been armed and armoured for another night of playing enforcer to that dangerous Sith Lord of my barely recovered superior before this had erupted. Danger, sadly, was ever present no matter where I seemed to be.

Protection from Evil

The fighting before us was disorganised, loud and spread out amidst the cluster of crude huts, tents, and campfires as I snapped out orders to stop the flames spreading to squads nearby. Beyond squads were forming up into companies, the alarm spreading into the valley and caves to warn of this being the herald of larger attack upon us. But for now that larger picture was in the hands of others, my purpose in the end was much simpler in ensuring this attack came to an end, and order restored within the camp in case of said attack. Of course that meant dealing with these attackers, potentially adventurers, quickly and ruthlessly...

"You...yes you lot...form up and come with us! NOW! Weapons at the ready!" I roared at a confused bunch of crossbow-orcs and archers with breaking my forward stride as they milled about clearly having come from their bedrolls tired and befuddled, but armed properly at least. Orders at least seemed to galvanise them into action, new recruits they likely were, as I watched a whip of fire lash through the air ahead of me; drawing screams and roars of pains alongside faint cruel laugher in its wake. Anger filled me as dark clad armoured forms came into view, fighting clan-orcs and a few auxlia, as silver hair moved over dark skin from a now helmless corpse amidst the bodies before me. And there emblazed on it the symbols Lua had told me off, and some from my Tome of Wiki, in regards those Drow that served that damnable spider.

'Well isn't that fecking great' I mentally growled turning to one of my guards, Jhyurt a Red Branch Knight, nodding back behind us "Get back there, grab a squad and ensure they stay with Tris and Lua even if they rush here! And make sure the Drow Priestesses are guarded...and make sure nobody attacks them! These are different Drow! Understood?"

Bulls Strength

"Understood Shaman!" he retorted as I cast, and I heard rather than saw his gauntleted hand slammed into his plate breastplate behind me as he changed direction and my attention remained focused on the fight we were charging into. Spears and blades stabbed into the Drow corpse to ensure it was a corpse at my next words, then missile weapons lashed out at the nearest enemy as he/she shoved away an injured or perhaps dead human auxlia, blood-stained scimitar-like blade in hand. Almost soundlessly the armoured figure a distance away died, pin cushioned by a half dozen bolts as they slammed into their body even as they turned towards us; along with cart and wooden posts to either side...

Cats Grace

...the key was to just move. Another drow in dark armour came into view, fast, deadly, and moving in that annoyingly elegant way they all seemed to be trained in. Oft times pointless seeming-elegance, as it was now, as my magically enhanced less elegant looking combat abilities closed the distance with my foe along with my escort. There was no glorious combat here, just butchery as those fast and graceful elven combat moves failed to save their owner as my blade smashed into his block - then a halberd smashed through his now open guard by one of allies as numbers came to bear. Seconds passed, all roars and shrieking of metal and flesh, as the fallen foe was behind me now being hammered in blows by the following on soldiers...

'Priestesses' I mentally hissed as I came forward passed the two now dead enemy assassins to where the loudest and flashiest fighting was taking place. Clearly visible now before me was a powerful enough female drow priestess, one wielding a ridiculously long whip of flame to drive back my clan's warriors and auxiliaries. Who had formed something of a semi-circle on the opposite of me around Captain Krowluc's cavalry it seemed to my eyes, while two...no three...other similarly clad drow females cast spells of their own as dark-clad guards fought around them or like those we'd killed attempt to spread chaos amidst the camp.

Something, a small crossbow bolt or throwing dagger, deflected off my armour or my magical armour as I surged forward hand and mouth moving and gesturing in a familiar rhythm and cadence that last mere steps to complete. Then there was a gush of greasy liquid from nowhere, splashing out over the nearest two drow fighters as the charged at me as I gestured at them in a slashing motion...then seconds later, slashing the very air with my flame weapon to cause the grease to ignite and burn in the darkness of the night as a momentary flamethrower. Both foes fell, or rolled perhaps, to the ground screaming as the flame seared and burned their faces as uncovered hands holding weapons innsticively dropped them or brought them up to guard their partly liquefying faces. Pushing the horror of my magic I charged forward at the foe, my escort and a hundred orcs behind them...

Whip girl needs to die so we can swamp them...she had after all likely come thinking she could kill the Chosen of Elistraee. So powerful, fanatical, or just plain stupid...so make'em mad and distract her first..

"HEY! SERVANT OF THE SPIDER WHORE! COME TO WORSHIP A REAL GODDESS OF YOUR KIND, OR JUST NEED SOME ORC LOVIN' INSTEAD? SORRY BUT YOU DON'T SEEM MY TYPE SORRY!"

Rage, pure and unadulterated turned towards me in those startled and hate-filled eyes as the whip half spun in the air and the other three priestesses seemed distracted a moment as part of me hoped. That part that wasn't going 'ohshitohshitohshit' at said suddenly laser focused directed hate though dove ever deeper into the power being called from own patron. Shielding out possible attacks, driving away fears and giving unnatural calm despite charging forward against such a dangerous foe; Draw upon Holy Might as part of me would put it as the power filled me and I glared back, charging forward at, those hate filled eyes an army at my back...

...the whip of fire lashed out along with a scream-shriek of wrath...

Whatever she thought, that I had challenged her to one-on-one combat with that challenge or some such, the whip being aimed directly for me as it formed a snake like head indicated it had worked. As did the warriors nearby who'd understood common clearly, snarls, gestures, and blades moving in my direction...and away from those fighting them previously even if just for a few seconds. One or two died because of it I felt rather than saw at the edge of my consciousness, but only barely as my blade blazing with white fire smashed against, and drove back, the snapping whip of orange red. Once, twice, and then a third time it was blocked and driven away as I drove forward towards my foe step by step like the beating war-drum in my head demanded with my loyal paladins at my back.

Unintelligible babble from my foe along with each swing of the whip, and the feel of magic of course, but it mattered little to me as warriors swarmed forward now over the her helper priestesses and fighter-assassins with stabbing blade and spear. Costly perhaps, but numbers were on our side and the quicker this lot were dealt with the sooner order of a sort restored and patrols check for other potential enemies, invisible as these ones might have been till the whole ward triggering. Power began to manifest around my foe, that nice 'gift' of such knowledge helping me not even think as I acted; hand gesturing, power following now from the Weave as that ancient lost spell Doctor Ned and we all had learned from a long dead city came forth at my target.

Surprise, hate, and a sneer dominated that pretty unhelmeted face. Part of me idly wondered why the stripperific bdsm reject look was so popular amongst Lolth's priesthood, even in combat like now, when it was problematic as my magically enhanced stride allowed me to close in mere eye blinks. Her magic fire whip had partially vanished with the Dispel, now a 'mere' whip-thing whose handle was almost a snake wrapped around her wrist and thin spikes coming out of the lash part. Her other hand flew for a long dagger, or short curved sword maybe...flashing out just in time to deflect my roar backed sword swing...

...block with blade, dodge head right...whip destroy with blade...

Movement became a blur now to me, just a haze of action and reaction as my body and mind acted too fact to think; years of harsh orcish combat 'training' mixed with sheer instinct and magically enhanced abilities matched the silvered haired witch's own unnaturally fast movements...

But I had an advantage of course as a spear thrust missed...slightly...nicking my foe's back leg for just a fraction of second causing a flinch, a faint stagger. Still, it was enough as I disarmed her of the whip with a kick, a swing of the fiery blade that cauterised the stump as the scream came along with wild slashing of the dagger-sword in response. Not even thing I slammed forward, the distance after me downward sword swing accidentally closing the distance and preventing easy adjust back upwards. Weight and size were on my side too, the shoulder charge driving her off the ground a moment to land with a oooffff-ing sound just in front of me as my sword rose back up, burning white hot against the night filled with the roars of orcs and our auxlia...

...then stomped on booted food down unto her 'free' hand with a sickening crunch instead of slamming down the fiery blade as I wished too. Following it up a moment later with a kick to her head that knocked her unconscious as teeth flew through the air while I kept my guard up; a glance around revealing dead bodies and victories allies. And more importantly useful allies and minions I found as brought the blade to rest beside the head of the female beneath me and pointed at those I needed "Nimmil come over here immediately! Krowluc lock-down this area right this minute and send word to the inner camp...ROSE! HRESHGK! Come here, we need to keep this one alive and secure!"

I glanced around for a runner "AND SOMEONE GET ME HIGH SHAMAN PHARGK! NOW PLEASE WARRIORS!"

--

[Lua'kah'wyss 13]

Camp, Bloody Glaive Peak, the Crags

"Stay here, Shaman's orders! We guard! Stay here!" had been the rather basic details of what she'd been told to tell the Holy One rather quickly by the cluster of orc guards Karg had clearly sent to 'protect' herself and the other priestesses of the Darksong Knight. And kept them inside their own area too of course, but it was the thought that counted in the mind of Lua'kah'wyss even if she felt the need to be useful considering the alarm had been raised. Nor was it a feeling helped by the fact it seemingly Drow attacking the camp, and the fact her role along with her dear littletu'rithiir Tris was to both guard and keep at ease the Holy One Qilue and her escort.

That aside she had armed herself and even Lara thanks one of her fellow priestesses, a cheerful young commoner acolyte named Waerbryn Allep, in attempt to be ready if need be. Even if Lara barely looked the warrior now, fidgeting and glancing at every noisy moment filled with the sounds of screams and crackle of magic in the distance. Though the fact of having armour on, and a weapon in hand, at least seemed to have calmed her somewhat as she and Tris waited a small distance back while Lua'kah'wyss herself hovered near Her Holiness.

Who was standing in full armour seemingly unconcerned, blade still in its sheath, while everyone else milled around in confusion and worry over what was occurring within the orcish army's encampment, and the uneasy orcs guards 'guarding' Her Holiness's delegation. Flames and flashes of light, mixed with the roars of thunder, came from a short distance beyond them as power flared in the night air. Lua'kah'wyss gripped her sword tightly, calming herself as best she could by calling on the blessings of the Goddess once more. then giving a smile over at her Tris in encouragement for a but the briefest of moments before returning to wary watchfulness.

Another peal of faint thunder thrummed through night, then another, before suddenly falling silent along with the flashes of flame and light that had accompanied each. Roaring though filled the air again, though this time of voices in unison shouting out something she couldn't quite grasp due to the muddle of voices. Time drifted by as she waited largely silent, watching as orc warriors and human auxlia moved with more seeming organisation and purpose than before as what she guessed were messengers ran this way and that. Till one came towards her of course, in the crude surcoat and colours that her Karg had taken for his 'Red Branch Knights' as he called them. Something that caused her to smile almost to herself; Orcish Paladins, whatever had gave him that idea honestly?

"Captain Lua, Shaman Karguk sends word" came the gruff tired sound words of the well armoured orc, two others in the armour of the younger warriors of the clan following on either side, as he stopped and half-bowed before Lua'kah'wyss. That was always a bit weird she found, but right now that wasn't her biggest concern considering she had no idea where Karg, Missy, and pretty Red Rose were in the midst of an attack and if they were okay. Or at least she assumed Karg was okay if he was sending messengers to her and...

'Focus Lua! Focus!' she instructed herself facing the orc, Jhyurt his name she thought, and gave a confident and calm facade as she replied "Good, what does he say?"

"Shaman Karguk says that Drow have attacked us, who serve others and wish to kill you and Priestess you guard. We have slain all but two of the assassins, Shaman Karguk having captured their strongest priestess-assassin, and another warrior yet lives we have found. He wishes you to bring the Priestess, and one or two others, as he and the High Shaman will put these assassins to question soon..." the burly orc answered in orcish, and Lua'kah'wyss was impressed at herself for following the tongue enough to understand easily before the orc shrugged at the end "...assume want you talk drow to drow? Not sure, I bring you word, and bring you safe to Shaman Karguk"

She winced at that, clamping down on a gasp of shock at the confirmation and appearing weak to their 'guardians' or disturbing the nervous Lara. Instead she nodded, talking a firm tone with the orcish paladin in her reply "Understood, wait here a short time while I talk to the High Priestess and tell of her what you have just told me Warrior and that we must go too Karg and see to the prisoners"

Turning away from the orc she bit her lip after sparing Lara a glance; she was unsure she'd wish what happened to her poor wretched quasi-slave on anyone; even upon the body and mind of a vile and twisted senior priestess of the spider-goddess. One who had very clearly organised a raid to try and kill the hope of Lua'kah'wyss's Goddess and her people for something beyond the dark underworld that the fallen creature who ruled Menzoberranzan had created. Tris looked to her curiously and Lua'kah'wyss motioned that everything was fine, and to stay with Lara; earning a silent nod of acquiescence in response as she passed her lovely tu'rithiir and strode up to the Holy One and gave a quick bow. A soft smile on her face Holy Qilue motioned to her acolytes to be ease it looked to Lua'kah'wyss, who had been obviously excited by all the

"Holiness, I have news. The camp has been attacked by priestesses and worshipers of the spider..." one or two of the nearby priestesses hissed, earning a brief glare from her Holiness as Lua'kah'wyss continued "...but they have been defeated by, um...

"Your orcish war-priest hmm? Well if one must choose an unusual choice of male for your bed I cannot fault you for other skills. Such as protecting mine poor helpless self it seems..." her Holiness hummed in seeming amusement turning back to Lua'kah'wyss with an air of calm surrounding her that eased some of the tension in those around her "...though I judge there is more to it than mere relief in your words to come yes?"

Lua'kah'wyss nodded "Yes Holiness, Karg has captured one the priestesses supposedly and wishes us...I mean myself to escort yourself and one or two others...for she is to be...ah..."

She couldn't help but feel uneasy and glance in the direction of Lara and Tris "Questioned"

A hand came to rest on her shoulder from the taller drow, a sad smile on her face "Hush child, one is not blind to what occurs in this wretched world, nor to what some of those one calls allies will do in these dark moments in time. It is a surprise perhaps that one is summoned to attend afore such darkness, but there is little doubt in my mind the victim this night will have done far worse in her days to her victims than these simple orcs have in store. So guide me fair Lua'kah'wyss to thine orc and let us see if some mercy can be shown, or at least useful words spoken so that we would know of how our foe has located my presence here in this most unusual of places"

Lua'kah'wyss gave the faintest sigh of relief "Thank you Holiness, it is distasteful and Karg does not nor..."

"Hush child, one understands seeing what one sees and understanding the ways of things where all about you seem only too eager to thrust ever deeper into the darkest of powers. Now let us not keep thine male, or his dark overlord, waiting - we have much to learn and little to learn of it I fear" a faint pressure, almost a gentle push, and Lua'kah'wyss began to guide her Holiness and two other priestesses who were called softly to follow even as she herself whispered to Tris to keep Lara here and await their return. While the other drowish girl had made something of a recovery...bringing her within range of the dreaded High Shaman Phargk was just asking for breakdown and crying fit later in the night. And that was something she would best be without Lua'kah'wyss figured as she and the three others moved out and followed the Orcish 'Knight' to where Karg awaited...

--

When: Still the summer, in darker days perhaps - 1356 Dale Reckoning anyway.

Where: My Tent in the war-camp, Blood-Axe's stronghold.

Some days you can almost convince yourself you're not the villain you know?

Well today/tonight its especially difficult, terrible things one must stand by and watch or even aid tends to ruin that illusion that you are the Good Guys in a scenario. Or show that even people deemed as 'Chaotic Good' and full of moral conviction can be just as cold, ruthless, and practical when dealing with her enemies. It's disturbing, but not as disturbing perhaps as finding I've got the capacity to stand there and actively think about what basic information that is worth dragging from that suffering wretch.

Even the fact of learning things in the process from one of the most skilled orcish healers in generations, alongside being a deadly dangerous and ruthless High Priest despite old age. Especially when it's part of the duty set as a loyal priest of Ilneval and both victims had killed many people while trying to kill a guest in our camp. It's not an excuse for evil done, but it is a reason why we do terrible things in the service of whatever cause we serve, and I take no pleasure in it. Far from it, so far from it really.

That pathetic protestation aside, and writing helping calm the nerves; our camp was attacked, by Drow of all things rather than Luskans or Mirabarans as one would have expected. Spider-Goddess worshiping drow who were here to kill Qilue Veladorn at that. Or perhaps more accurately two days of thinking on the matter; sent here in an attempt to kill the Chosen of a Goddess, and die in the process thereby removing an ambitious rival for such-and-such Drow Murder Priestess above this one. Because Drow basically. Either that or this one really, really, underestimated the capabilities of everyone else involved. (A possibility of course, even a strong one as torture and horror aside 'I am a Murder Drow and will skin you alive when free' didn't really understand what she was getting herself in for)

Now I'll be rather clear that she (the priestess that is) didn't break, not really, but basic information of what was going was extracted by a combination of pain, and mostly (initially) by getting her to gloat over who would revenge her etc, etc, and as best one can tell some drow faction has allied with Luskan. Or a faction within the city, or just within the Host Tower...maybe the Arch-Lich itself; middle management lady didn't know, and minor house stormtrooper didn't either castration and healing or no. Phargk is terrifying did I mention that? Yes, because the evil old orc is terrifying. As is Qilue playing stone cold interrogator when there's none of her people around to see the dark deeds being done and a spell in place to muffle the screams. Drow and Orcs, Villains united! Fuck.

Other important lessons were learned;

- Never, ever, get taken alive by Darth Phargk if it comes to a fight. Because that would be bad, very bad, and bad things are bad. Because bad people doing bad things.

- Use every means possible, dark or no, if it comes said fight. Or Qilue. Losing is likely, but survival would not. And that is good because he might die in some mutual killing. Or something.

So. Right. What else relevant did we learn? (beyond evil magic training of a sort! Sith status here we come!)

Anyway Luskan had fallen into civil war. Maybe anyway, and gloating-turns-too-screams implied 'her' favoured faction won out and killed all the surface savages. Blah, blah, blah, essentially something happened and now we've Drow and Liches as our enemy without Mirabar on their side, and might fighting them. They say, but torture is unreliable magic truthiness or no because we clerics do have certain abilities to resist such magics.

Especially so when one is Drow and middling level cleric whose entire culture is build upon the concept of the darkest and most twisted interpretations of BDSM mixed with 'No I have double crossed you while you were planning on double crossing me!' and 'AH-HA I have a cunning plan!' – all under Crazy Demon Bitch whose moron of an ex-husband should have given ice-cream and a hunky mortal to sulk over rather than turning into a DEMON LORD.

Or kill her outright, but elves are a bit too petty for all such 'simple ideas' as that. Breaking her really isn't a viable option essentially, and that's a relief in its own dreadful, dreadful, way because instead we get to kill her and her less resilient male servant. Yes, because murderous execution and dark rituals are a better option than the alternative in the messed up world we live in. An alliance agreed in flames and born in bloodshed – how else would an agreement between not-evil orcs and not-evil drow be agreed but in such a bloody manner?

Because oh yeah, did I mention that?

No, right, well the merciful option (and am I not Karguk of the Cruel Mercies apparently) is the killing of our two surviving murder-drow assassins by Qilue Veladorn as a sign of our pact against mutual enemies. Phargk loves the idea of course (oh aren't I so fucking proud of that) by binding the powerful witches as he sees them to our cause. And Qilue, through Lua, does actually see this as a mercy. Barely. And truthfully; for the Good Drow she seems fresh out of mercy by and large for those who serve Lloth. This is more the alliance between us now we've proof of-a-sorts to show her, and to show mercy to the poor wretch of a 'common soldier' of the male drow prisoner.

And of course it is a mercy compared to the alternatives, and in line with danger of trying to keep a priestess of that damned spider alive and prisoner within the encampment. Or for dealing with the nature of what the other clans will want to do with such a 'prize' in our midst trying for something; unlikely I've been told, but never fucking trust these idiots with crap like this. Or maybe I'm just relieved to bring this whole horror show to a swift conclusion. Knowledge is power, and we've gotten the bare bones of what we are up against – at least something we can scout out and confirm in the coming days as our forces relocate to their own individual strongholds to rebuild.

Either that or form a campaign against foes; truth be told I don't know right now, too much blood on my mind, and hands too. That's what you get for carving runes in bone and flesh. Self-hypnosis; way to go folks for any half decently trained mage-cleric – hence why priestesses lady could block out alot of the pain I guess. Or stay sane despite...everything basically. So, yeah, temporarily one can keep oneself logical and functional, and most importantly hold up throwing up till in private and far away from other people. Apart from Lua, Rose and Missy anyway, who are concerned but I wasn't going into details about my day at work anyway. Silver runes and screams in blood, healing is a dreadful art ya know?

Learning, aren't we all so damn happy to be learning. Fucking apprentice High Shaman here, got to learn your dark sithy blood magic and preparing the sacrifice, blah, blah, blah. For the Greater Good and all that, the things you have to do to ensure the worse things are not done. Because it's absolutely terrifying and horrifying really did you know? Fucking hell, it's even worse when you're a quick study and good at it. Which is worse then I wonder; to be hate it yet use it because you have, or to love and use it because you want to like the ancient old orc we've put in charge because of power levels?

Also am I the metaphorical Dragon to the Evil Overlord?

Because it disturbingly feels like that at times dontcha know. Though that could be the rather strong gulp or two of the recently made fruit brandy from our lovely; because with the few days I've just had I felt I needed a drink and sleep before tomorrow night and the naked drow priestesses chops off the head of the other (evil) drow priestess whose body is now adorned in sigils from head to toe. Anyone who thinks getting those runes there unto the body of a naked drow lady was pleasant, nor not smelling dreadful, is an idiot frankly. Or, well, a sadist like my superior and 'mentor' is I suppose. At least stone cold Qilue wasn't there for that, either in judgement or to even further remind me how scary a bitch she is being Chosen of two Goddesses.

Right, okay to be more clear. Execution time tomorrow kiddos! Yeahhhhh!

Qilue's own priestesses aren't overly bothered by that by the way did you know?

Far from it according to Lua, and Lua. Well, Lua's at least understanding. Either that or she's turned on by violence and me being depressed. She is a drow I know, but I'm pretty sure that's not her character after our time together. Anyway, according to her it's a party at the Church of Elistraee here in the camp right now having captured, and now planning to kill, a Lloth priestess who had tried to sneak in and kill off the Chosen of their Goddess. Of course they don't know the nitty-gritty details of said prisoners, but that's society at work and their own boss isn't telling them know.

So we have a deal between us. Mutual enemies to struggle against together, we give them their little village/town/stronghold/whatever, and then we see survive the storm of Luskan and their allies. Oh, and all the traitorous little feckers who either ran off or tried to stab us in the back as we retreated back, and the Uthgarht, and murder-hobos...

Something to take the mind off the here and now, throwing oneself into ones work perhaps. Ritual is prepared for the night on the morrow, guards doubled, and His Evilness is His Happy Evilness along with most of te camp being in better morale at our victory. Everyone's more on guard too of course, but morale is up despite strange looks I've been getting post-event. Maybe I should just be glad we survived, and its hardly like I can just shunt aside the darker parts of my duties – people depend on me, and know we know roughly the dangers that face us, and the 'I have no mouth and I must scream' option is off the table for both we took. Best of bad options and I managed to pull it off.

Doesn't make me feel any better though for some reason though. Anyway must go and try at sleep, busy day and night ahead.

--