In My Time of Troubles

by Crossposted

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

31. Entry 31

[Krowluc 21]

Hilly-Plains, Valley Entrance, Eastern Crags

"What the fuck are they doing Captain?" Nimmil muttered to him from her riding pony after he'd dismounted his own larger warhorse "...are they here ta fight, or are they strippin' down for some weird male-on-male public shaggin' that only ye Orcs an' Utties know about?"

She paused a moment then started speaking again before he could get a word in, letting a weary groan out at the tone "Not that ah'd be complainin to much iffin it is, but aren't we here to fight and take all their stuff?"

"Hnnnnn...Nim, shut up because ye get us all in trouble..." he muttered back gesturing tiredly with his gauntleted hand as two armies faced each out across the probably battlefield in front of them "...an' if I had to guess...somebody's decided on a challenge or some such from the way this lot are acting. So there be spilled blood an' murder shortly not anything that might on yer twisted gnomish mind"

His gnomish wizard nodded and smiled cheerfully at that "Oh that's good, I like seein' spilled blood and murder when it isn't me an' mine after all!"

Krowluc sighed again at the apparent mood shifts from the so-called 'dread gnome' member of their not-entirely-Free-anymore Company "Of course ya do ya bloodthirsty midget you..." turned his head and motioned at the nearby half-elf "...Bareyaras take yer lot into those trees an' be watchful. All eyes are gonna be on this fighting, and it'll all still likely turn into a battle anyway"

Because the big burly orc warrior from the Spine stripping to his waist along with an Uthgardt doing the same opposite Krowluc could easily see whatever the bosses and their enemies had planned turning into the usual bloody murder-fest. For the moment it seemed they'd fallen into some sort of ritual combat to decide matters he figured, watching as two groups moved out into the field between the armies and marked out a crude circle of sorts by their presence.

A glance down the line showed the previous orders shouted down the line by officers to sergeants to the ranks being followed as shield walls remained in place. It was still odd to his experienced mercenary eye to see orcs being so disciplined, but the presence of the approaching figure of one of the fearful enforcers called the Red Branch Knights, or Bloody Red Hands for their sigils, helped explain that fact he supposed. He liked that, harsh and brutal discipline it might be but Illusk's forces over all hammered even these savages into something resembling a fighting force he could see himself serving in the long term for wealth and glory.

'Blah, blah, blah, orky and manly shouting, blah, blah, blah, honour...come on get to the killing' he thought silently watching, hearing loud but garbled shouting from the distance before a roar came from Uthgardt host...followed one louder one from his own. One which he added his own voice to the vague cries of 'VICTORY! ILLUSK! THE GOODS!' shouted out as weapons were banged off shields, booted feet stamped off the ground, and threats hurled at the enemy across the field. Truthfully this kind of heroic idiocy could go either way in his experience, especially with the Uthgardters trapped as they were and one side didn't want to deliver on whatever was being risked in the fight.

Krowluc blinked, just as Kyra's finished dismounting and walking over to join him and Nimmil and a collective moan filled the air "Damn that were fa..."

A loud incoherent roar, that he added his voice too while raising his weapon in salute, filled the air as the distance figure of the orc just moved...and apparently sent the head of the opposing Uthgardt warrior flying through the air after deflecting the battle-axe with his shield. Waving the shield and sword above his head the distant orc turned towards the Uthgardter's, probably roaring or shouting some insults Krowluc assumed as the triumphant roar died down. Followed by orders shouted and motioned down along the line to remain in position as across the way the Uthgardters milled about for a time in apparent confusion...before another big, burly, bare-chested warrior stepped forward to cheers from his people.

Krowluc frowned as the minutes ticked by and the new challenger had hands laid upon them by their 'priestess' or 'shamaness' just as the old shaman this Obould came with did the same with him. Nearby the acolytes of the Spartan Shaman waited nearby, or approached the other shaman with items of some usefulness Krowluc guessed, clearing his throat he decided to clear up the matter with the confused Nimmil. Though at least the thieving half-orcish Kyras seemed to have grasped at events along with orcish or Uthgardter blooded members of the Sparta clan cavalry under his command.

"Wells boys an' girls, looks like ye've all got the honour of watchin' the strangest ah things; a leadership ritual challenge by an orc for an Uthgardt clan, fer their surrender I'd expect. Smart bastards our bosses look like"

"Hmm? A wha-wha Krowluc, mean Capn?"

He nodded towards the two warriors taking a stance again in the distance "Orc from Spine is challangin' for leadership that loot ah across from us, all signs there and we've got right trapped up there. Hence why there's..."

Another roar erupted from the orcish ranks as the second fight was swiftly concluded as well by the powerfully built, and likely magically enhanced, orcish would-be chieftain as despair again visibly shuddered through the ranks of the pink orcs as some called them. Neither 'challenge' had lasted more than a few seconds, followed by a roar for another challenger he expected, and these had probably been the enemy's best warriors to be put forward like this. Losing them so swiftly was hardly a part of the plan...and this time there was a much greater delay as another savage barbarian warrior came forward from the ranks. Waiting a time till the guttural roaring died down to reply took a time, but eventually he managed to reply to the others as magic users again performed their brief rituals on their warriors.

"Look, the Sky Pony Tribe are bled out, fuck all spell-casters left I'd bet...and scraping the barrel to find a chieftain anyway after all their losses and the Lathanderites pissing off to where they've gotten too..."

"That's Yiava..." the low, and somewhat miserable sound, voice of their Uthgarder recuit Sidr muttered at him in reply looking askance at the occurance. Of course his lover, the wizard or warlock or whatever, had been stuck with the flag of truce so understandable he'd be upset Krowluc figured having been keeping an eye on the warrior for any trouble from him despite dependents back in Sparta "...she's...Gods, there mustn't be anyone else if they've got her as Shaman in sumin' dis important"

Krowluc nodded watching the distant figures, the priestess or whatever her role, sway after chanting it looked like at this distance "Aye, an that's the thing; their bled out and our fella is fresh into each fight almost thanks ta all our shaman's an' priests to heal'em and whatnot. Their challenger barely has a blessin an'..."

Another triumphant roar filled the air, another keening collective wail as the probably exhausted acolyte turned temporary priestess fell to her knees as another body was dragged from the 'circle' of combat. It was unfair really, blessings of the Gods and magic made a difference and it seemed their foes didn't have any left to spare unsurprisingly. Krowluc motioned for his warriors to be on guard as chaos overtook the forces across the field; they'd either break soon or decide to die in an all out do-or-die charge he figured, though the face of their handful of Utties in his ranks indicated the first as more likely. Still being on guard was his duty, and it was still some time till nightfall...

--

...and, in the end, it took eleven challangers being rather bloodily and brutally slaughtered before their eyes, along with their best efforts at clerics collapsing from exhaustion, for the Sky Pony's too finally break it seemed. Krowluc found himself, and his fighting company, amongst those now encamped around the great bonfires within the Sky Pony's now former camp drinking and feasting in celebration of the orc raised to his new chiefdom of sorts. His new clan, and more importantly their very-much-not-orcs warriors, had been disarmed of course, though outside of a number held as hostage they remained free and milling about within the bounds of this encampment.

He drank down the horn of Illuskan made ale, watching as the divvying up of the 'spoils' occurred amongst the warriors directly serving the former Captain, now Chieftain, Obould. More joy to him Krowluc figured, surviving the winter and holding unto control of this lot, while training them as well apparently, wasn't a job he himself wouldn't overly want to suffer through. Belching he watched as another of the unmarried females of the conquered, chosen by the Sky Ponies themselves as sacrifice of sorts he guessed, was given over to one of their new chiefs warriors. Dangerous enough that, but showing less so than showing weakness by not doing so; and smelling weakness would lead to a swift revolt.

"Figure we'll be here Boss fer long?" Bareyaras queried drinking his own booze and clearly eyeing for one of the Uthgardter women to share his tent as the moon rose higher in the sky above them. Young Sidr and his woman and there other exiles, well former exiles now despite staying in this Company or the Shaman's service, had helped in that 'selection process' for those available for that usage. Wasn't of much interest to Krowluc though; he'd got his eye on two of the Spartan females whose bedding would bring him a bit more power and support within the clan, maybe even enough to secure a valley nearby for growing the Company further.

He nodded in reply, dunking the horn into the barrel for a refill "Aye, bit of a war council afore came back here; mostly beating sense into this lots survivin' sub-bosses, but plans too. We'll be camped here a few ten-days, have get in the harvest while we trash'em inta sumin' resembling fighting shape I suppose. Bosses plan to use'em to help us wipe out the orc clans around here that won't bow to Illusk. Or to bring anyone else in this area in as tributaries or vassals, assuming they don't try fight it out anyway..."

--

[Wifne 08]

Village of Zybelin's Drift, Valley of Sparta

Summer was ending, though it did not feel much like it right now Wifne Humbletree found, glancing up at the warm sun above once again beamed down upon the fields of gold and green after a short, sharp, break for heavy rains. For now though the sky was a beautiful blue field with faint fluffy clouds floating across it, and it was ideal for her villagers to bring the remainder of the harvest in from the fields of gold and green that now stretched out around the village.

Old, previously abandoned, fields were now filled once again with more than the village itself would ever need; none would starve this coming winter at least, irregardless of demands for tithes and taxes that came from their new overlords to guard said fields from raiders. That was...an irritant of course, but that was just the way of the world unfortunately, and things had gone better than she feared when the orcish horde had appeared at the palisade of the village. Now they were inside the very walls, a group of two on patrol strolling by complaining (as ever) to each other of the glorious sunshine beaming down upon the lands.

Wifne shook her in mild exasperation after the two orc women had passed by, or at least after they had spotted her little flower wandering along beside her, then giving that fist to heart salute to Rose. Even getting her little flower out of that dreadful armour, and into her robes had been a chore, and useful as it was to have the orcs show respect of sorts to Rose...it still felt so strange to see such with her own eyes. Better than the fear and worry that had gone with each her energetic grandchild had been taken away to the dangers and risks of the battlefield of course, but at times like this she just wanted her energetic and clumsy little flower back instead of the young warrior woman now before her eyes.

'Too much of her mother in her perhaps' she mused to herself the images of her little Tulip, too brave and adventurous for this cruel world. But only for a moment, then pushed the sadness aside and smiled back at Rose as the smell of baking bread filled their noses. Life was too short to dwell on such sad things, merely to learn the lessons that could be learned and to move forward from there; so after bringing Rose over to talk to the baker and her two daughters she enjoyed some of the fresh pie and bread they had baked. It was important for her little flower to remember such things were as important for the village leader...as it seemed in many ways her red haired granddaughter was already taking her place as a village elder despite her youth.

"Hwarweest twime ish deh bhest"

Wifne sighed "Now little flower, what have I told you about speaking and eating?"

"Nwhot twoo do itz..." came back apologetically along with an embarrassed chuckle from Rose as she wiped her mouth of the crumbs stick to her chin with the back of her hand "...sorry Grandma"

Reaching over with a sigh Wifne wiped off the last bits that her granddaughter had missed on her freckled cheeks "Whatever shall we do with you my little flower?"

A pout and a huff was the reply causing Wifne to smile, placing her arm around her pouting, and surprisingly muscled beneath the robes she noted, granddaughter and guided her forward down the path "I'm sorry, grandma is just indulging granny instincts now she has time to mother her beloved granddaughter during this time when she is not traipsing about the mountains and valleys on dangerous adventures with big burly orcs"

"Mumblemuttermumblemutter" was the apparent response in that unintelligible grumbling, way of her, but it had a been surprise to discover her little flower enjoyed her new life, liked being part of Shaman Karguk's mad and seemingly ever growing family, and perhaps most frightening truly skilled in the ways of war. To the village Rose was their hero, amongst the men who had journeyed with her and whose wounds she had tended after leading them into the fight; and then amongst the mothers and daughters for bringing home their men-folk alive "...are those goblins? What are they doing?"

'Ah, changing the subject are you my little flower? Okay, grandma has teased enough this morning perhaps' she chuckled to herself silent as she followed her granddaughter's gaze to a group of four of the little maniacs hovering around the granary. Under the watchful eyes of Huldra and Melanura the miller's sisters of course, but it seemed they at least were performing the duties they were to earn coin for. Not something that she would have ever imagined in her youth, beyond chasing them off or hanging them for trying to steal from the granaries of course, but that was how things were changing each strange day at a time.

"Ah, our noble adventurers going about their great and heroic deeds for the day I imagine"

A blank look came in response as they both paused and watched the goings on of the village, Wifne hummed happily at the absurdity of it all "Too be more clear my little flower those are merry little minions of fair Lua'kah'wyss the Drow and her Adventurers Guild of sorts, and they are about their brave task of hunting down the rat problem attempting to gain entry to our food stores as ever"

Rose furrowed her brow "That wasn't ever a big problem, least not anything that the cats and those yappy little dogs Eager Egar's family kept couldn't handle"

"You shouldn't call him that, it only encourages the young rapscallion to bring yet another girl of the monstrous races into his bed, and a baby into the village..." she muttered back eyes scanning for that particular brand of trouble. Thankfully the young man was away on campaign, and only a few of his ever expanding harem and brood were in sight; now lazing about on the common with their half-breed babies or swollen bellies. He was both a bad example to the other boys of the village, and also far too much favoured by the Goddess in Wifne's own humble opinion.

"...but no, there has been a growth of rats and other vermin as ever when crop yields are at such levels, and the valley blooms once again. It has not happened for many a year, not since my youth and those farthest fields were last farmed. Perhaps it is a good problem to have in some ways, more meat can brought to the table after they are caught, but it is a danger as well should great numbers of the vermin devour a store and grow ever more of their kind..." Wifne motioned at the goblins prowling and then disappearing out of sight behind the building and into the rocks there "...so; problems being dealt with for a copper piece a rat. Enough that the price pays for itself when the little morsels are cooked and sold after...often to those goblins and kobolds that have performed the task"

"Long as you watch them?"

"Yes dear, as long as you watch them..." Wifne agreed as they grinned at each other for a moment. They were much like anyone from outside the village; lazier and less trustworthy, with the added annoyance of seeing cats and small dogs as potential dinners as well "...the kobolds are less dirty at least, but I do believe that is due to Mister Menkin the tavern-kobold being in control of which of them, and who is allowed to come to us from their settlement in the north of the valley. You keep an eye on that scaly little salesman would dear? He's not anywhere near as silly and stupid as he tries to act like"

'One only has to look at that trade deal with dear Holawyn over the bridge in Zahgorim's Conquest, and his attempt to repeat it with myself here, to see the gears clicking in that little skull of his' she thought to herself shaking her head at the thoughts of the constant back and forth with the kobold village of Iron Mountain...or the longer, more ego-maniacal, version the little lizards used that basically meant the same. Trade of iron and mushrooms, usually in exchange for grain and steel tools, were the main things that went between the her village and his; plus of course the constant demand for ale and cider for said kobold's tavern in the orc stronghold.

"Oh, is Fueryon here with the kobold then? Missy usually grabs her to talk with, and with Vol off with her husband and Chief Zahgorim. Fueryon's fun to talk too, odd too, but fun to talk too if you don't say anything about dragons or her master"

"Yes, they arrived last night with some wagons and imagine we'll be talking to the scaly little menace and that poor, sweet, silver-tongued girl he owns once they're done swindling Holawyn or the orcs down in the army camp. Though are you not going to be having company with the young woman currently awaiting her companions to return and reunite with her fianee and adopted father...oh and the Six Sisters too of course, are you not?"

"Papa says I don't have to be around the Gods-slaves too much, their..." Rose huffed, arms across chest to cover her uncomfortableness with the six girls "...creepy sometimes. Like their one person sometimes, or trained hounds that somehow learned to speak. Their weird, and I don't like Cattie-Brie; she's a big meanie with a big loud mouth that needs punching because she's dumb, and boobs that are too big, and stubborn and dumb like a dwarf"

Wifne sighed, shaking her head in amused exasperation "Now little flower, try and be nice to the girl. Even the Shaman wants you to try be nice to her, and her to you. Not many girls your age around that can keep up with your energy after all"

That perked Rose up "Hah! No she didn't, I punched her and she went down in the spar!"

"Yes dear, but shouldn't crow about it. Especially when she got back up and punched you I was told..." she answered changing the subject having clearly failed for now and taking on a more amused tone "...and now we have to talk a little on the nature of who to choose as our new apprentices and acolytes..."

That, and the role of her little flower taking charge of what was far larger than anything Wifne had ever seen herself leading, was truly going to be the more difficult matter. One at least that would be aided and hindered by whatever 'help' in training those future Priestesses given by the iron-willed priestess Ghorza and the higher up figure of Ogrash; a priestess with her own orcish sense of what constituted appropriate behaviour. Unfortunately such help would be required, as Wifne struggled even now with her tasks keeping order between village and overlords, and Goddess and the Harvest without attempting to train full time. Rose would 'lead' them of course, but her little flower was already so busy, and it was hard to ignore the strong willed young priestess she'd become to Wifne's pride...

--

When: Harvest Time, 1356 Dale Reckoning

Where: Village of Zybelin's Drift

Well it's been a hectic time since I returned, in part because Ghorza is approaching giving birth and her workload is now mine and Oggy's workload. Old Breyjuk's death is an issue part of that workload, though Zah's wife (and Breyjuk's daughter) Breyza has papered over alot of potential breaks between former clans that are now one. That and a few promotions to account for deaths on campaign within squads; mostly based on ability, but there is some effort to avoid a 'Thunderblade' or 'Stormfang' domination cropping up. Politics basically, it easier when you stomp a clan into line than juggle the early years of merged clans but I think the constant fighting and clan expansion has fixed that. At least there hasn't been any grumblings, which is less troubles than most clans oft suffer when a clan chief dies in battle so let's call it a victory.

Harvest time, with the return of the blasted warm weather again, so full fields have been emptied and the granaries filled with their produce. Or at least most of the fields, and it's been an a minor hassle moving excess stores up to the stronghold as ever with fact I've put the army in the valley to work with road clearance and 'maintenance' so to speak. It keeps idle hands busy, at least those orcish ones as the non-orcish Auxilia have been deployed here and just up a ways in Zahgorim's Conquest to handling the harvest itself. My plan for the moment is to spend some time here, in part because of a coming trade caravan according to Bella Harpell, and to have my existing forces perform various construction and excavation work.

Much like with the old buried roads here in the valley merely unburying the old structures and then fixing stuff them can have better craftsmanship than my 'combat engineers' can often bring to bear. Restoring old roads versus our creating new ones the quality and speed of our general construction is good enough for expanding the two villages here, and goblin town up at the north of the valley, to my liking. Very military camp like, but we've got two decently defensible villages in the south of the valley anchoring the guard watchtowers scattered about the valley. It's cut down on raids – at least raids towards the villages, and gives good warning of larger groups trying to approach the stronghold by land at least. Invisible flying wizard scouts could be an issue, or flying creatures, but all we can do there is watch for such and communicate via the magic-using apprentice assigned to the various plots for a time.

Now I'll admit there's some 'farming' taking place at these little outposts but it's generally of being a few deliberately planted berry bushes or the like, a chicken or the like, or where there's a few slaves assigned for the role. That means there isn't anything to collect generally in terms of agriculture; though it helps a little in past seasons according to Ghorza (and Wifne and Holawyn too) in cutting down on supply runs to the watchtowers over the last season to a small but noticeable degree. Keeps the kobolds and goblins there busy too I suppose, ensuring my lot are always doing something is a vital part of keeping this army somewhat, someway, civilized in the darker sense. Boredom and ildiscipline are the enemies of good order, and allowing troops to stew in places doing nothing for extended times can contribute to that; hence why constant shifting of tower guards and patrols I've tried to keep up. Sorry, on my mind as we've had a patrol come in with heads from would be raiders yesterday.

Unto actually important news I suppose; having interviewed certain people, Doctor Ned's, his slave Sydney, and the various members of our captured would-be adventuring band its clear Luskan and Mirabar have fallen out with each other after joining up to attack us. Go figure, but that's good news for us but it comes with the bad news there's been various canon-fodder murder-hobo bands encouraged up into the Crags to try 'deal with the orc problem' prior to the battle so...joy. Of course that's just confirmation of what I already expected, and I've sent runners to the other clans making them aware of the problem and how I know. Never hurts to try build up ones reputation as useful with the murderous lunatics that count as ones allies in Illusk after all - and best spread out the search with others for our incoming murderous and greedy problem as well. It'll cost blood to deal with it after all, best to spread the price around.

Our recently captured band at least have been put to work, and separated of course, with promises of working their way out of slavery; the elf priestess serving as my personal slave of sorts, with the male druid and female bard getting assigned to similar roles teaching (ie drained of every scrap of knowledge they have) within my tower and the druid to help Zah's elf druid wife Hollawyn when required for rituals. The monk girl gets to teach combat her basic hand to hand techniques in the training yard to the recruits, and their rogue is off into the Janissary Auxlia (though technically the monk and druid are as well, save other roles) because yeah...thief skills best not allowed idle hands basically. For now the plan is to magically bind any captives of murder-hobos taken alive into to this role, assuming not too dangerous of course, and adds to our already slowly expanding slave auxilia numbers. Slaves of other defeated clans, and a number post the battle against the Furry Fucker, taken from recent engagements have helped there a bit.

Missy is content with that strategy at least, less so with Ned's slave-apprentice but that seems to be down to girl being both Luskan and arrogant. Or formerly arrogant maybe as Doctor Ned is pretty intent on 'making her a better person and necromancer even if it kills her' apparently; considering her views before enslavement...well, Harkle Harpell still won't speak to her even now. And while she wants to apparently talk to him and apologise even she herself can't really answer if its regret or just the fact that Ned has been putting her through the ringer in terms of humiliation and she misses affection from the mad Harpell mage. Lack of ability to lie does not one couldn't be Aes Sedai 'Truth Telling' in her position let's say, so I'll take all of that with a pinch of salt and keeping her under control for many years.

Unto the other prisoner (well...dangerous VIP whose our guest); I'm still stuck with orc hating Cattie-Brie as her brave hero companions now know she's here (apparently, I've only got Bella Harpell's word on that) but are sorta, kinda, still in Mithril Hall after killing a dragon and fighting other...things I guess. They shall return for her in the coming season, before winter hopefully, but the good news is that she can at least keep her temper; letting out her aggression on the training field. Though Oggy has a gotten her absolutely drunken since I've arrived, and I found the red haired girl blabbing her life story to me unhappily before puking on my boots shortly afterwards. Yes heroic orc hating adventurers as ever finding non-violent ways to torment me and mine despite been forbidden to use weapons and other sharp implements of stabbing. Which is just bloody great let me tell you.

Oh, Lua and Tris are having fun at least; my dark skinned mad priestess is back playing head of the Adventurers Guild sending brave greedy idiots off hunting down dreadful threats, while Tris is delighted to be singing in the tavern again...and then getting drunk afterwards to curl up with me and the others. I should just be glad she isn't puking up on me I suppose. Lua's 'Head of Adventurer's Guild' though is actually proving useful; as in there are a decent number of would-be non-human murder hobos running about on brave and exciting quests. Mostly killing rats and other vermin right now, because securing the food supply is vitally important to our future; largely because a big part of the current construction work is expanding our granary storage capacity. No point having full granaries if the stores within gets tainted or eaten essentially. It's not a major issue, but its why rat killing is a big part of newbie adventurer quests; and it's a weird bunch too.

I've seen goblins and kobolds, a group of mercenary gnolls out hunting some bears right now, and one or two village girls who've lost the plot in my opinion by joining a party or two of said kobolds. But hey up to them, and we've already sort of conscripted many of the non-skilled worked men-folk so a few girls trying to be stupidly adventurous is par for the course. I've likely had some effect there with Rose wandering about in full armour, and sending out the female archer auxlia from more fighting oriented female clan-orcs as garrison troops for the villages.

And of course the fact one or two of those archers are now playing at future team murder-hobo likely doesn't help; weird and dangerous, built bigger than I thought. Anyway two of the brave and stupid village girls are now Rose's (and Wifne's) future apprentices; because a) they follow Chauntea devoutly and b) well they have the personality to work with orcs and bash heads to obey orders. I've met both, they'll do, and Oggy wants to 'halp' in her own training way; as long as she doesn't break them that's okay, though I do dread a bunch of human versions of her Luthican magic ladies. Oh and Lua will help Rose roo; so some terrifying hybrid of her, Oggy's and Rose's cheerfulness serving Chauntea – let's hope for the best there.

On a final note weapons production has picked up to acceptable levels, largely in regards spears, arrows, and for defence basic tower and round shields. It's similar for armour; we can produce a decent level of cloth gambesons of thickness that's far better than leather, fur, or other light armours and sticking it under chainmail like I do is fantastic for protection I find. Especially since I'm getting a new set tailored for myself at the moment and stitching in the various protective sigils and runes I want into now the Six Sisters are here to boost spells with their God-slave-ness. While I'm here, and have Doctor Ned, his slave-apprentice, Rose & here granny, Missy & co, and that mad little kobold to hand I've decided to make use of the better blacksmith in the valley to forge some...

Gotta go, work to be done and heads to be paid for apparently. Raiders or murder-hobos got dead, and maybe a prisoner so off I go. Slan.

--

[Maekrix'edar'nesh Kirask'Iden'nabal 04]

Village of Zybelin's Drift, Valley of Sparta

The night was cool beneath the full moon and twinkling stars he found, but the great bonfires lit nearby gave off enough heat that between them and his new light clothing he felt cheerfully warm sitting back against his traveling bag. Many creatures milled about all around him, singing drifting on the air as the orc shaman's half-elf went through went about her own act for the savage not-glorious dragon species drinking and eating for their odd human or orc celebration.

Not that glorious Menkin would complain of course; they offered tribute of food and alcoholic beverages to him in recognition of his dragon-y awesomeness after giving a better deal for his purchase of cider and ale from these villages. All for the mere honour of listening to the magnificent voice of Maekrix'edar'nesh Kirask'Iden'nabal singing many silly surface creature songs while his pet Fueryon danced under the moon and stars. Or at least they would in short; for now one or two lesser bards (non-dragons of course) had to warm up the crowd for Menkin's turn.

So taking a gulp from the wooden cup full of ale he did a quick check of his lute before fluttering claws over the almost dressed Fueryon to ensure the bright gauzy silks were in place alongside the small bells. Personally he never understood non-dragonblooded non-kobolds and their strangeness with nudity and 'revealing' attire as this; but that's the way were, and a skilled performer worked with the audience they were given irregardless of how strange and stupid they might seem to him.

His personal slave followed his directions diligently as ever, sliding on a ring to the middle finger of each hand so the silk cloth slid back to the collar at her neck and extended like wings if desired; then testing the bells attached to the rings, on her ankles, and then on the silver chain around her waist. While Fueryon did not have the training of her breeder currently running his tavern while he was here, nor the physique yet that these weird humanoids desired, she was rather dexterous and currently showed both eagerness and impatience to begin their act for the night.

"Yes-yes, tightenings heres...hmm-hmm...yes-yes alls goods nows..." he muttered after a few moments of poking and prodding, getting a nod of agreement from his slave as she gave herself a pat down and stretched to be sure of everything. Sitting back down atop his makeshift throne he began preparing his magic and readying his lute as the other singers began to die down and the time turned to his own presence. It was a shame he didn't have this occur back in the stronghold and exploitable by his glorious tavern, but even without that he gained coin, and free drinks, and of course a nice happy time to relax and take a dip in the caves with the warm water in it. Kobold Knowledge and Industry had created such within the caverns that Tucker ruled of course...but it was almost impossible to gain easy usage without some idiot and their 'glworiush phlans' trying something of course.

"A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing.

His hammer laid by but his forge still aglow.

When to him a buxom young damsel came smiling,

And asked if to work in her forge he would go..."

He sang out using his magic to adjust and enhance his voice as his slave began to sway slowly from side to side before singing out the duet and chorus before swinging her hips from side to side aggressively, gyrating and dancing as bells tinkled and clicked exuberantly to the 'With a jingle bang jingle bang jingle bang jingle. With a jingle bang jingle bang jingle high ho' chorus.

Vaerier Fueryon's breeder, and his own best slave mistress slave, had taught him the song and shown her hatchling the required moves as with many other similar that entertained and convinced customers to hand of over coin. So now she moved and gyrated in between periods of calm where she sang her response verse before starting again; soon the crowd were clap and 'singing' along with the repeated chorus.

'Yes, yes, all bows before best of singings' he thought to himself as the first song ended to the clapping and howling sounds of the nearby humans and orcs as took a quick gulp from the cup before starting into the next tune. A fast and furious one this time, little words but an energetic and frantic beat that Fueryon bounced and gyrated in a circle too as the silk wraps swayed out around her and the bells tinkled in maddening unison to the lute and summoned pipes. With a snort and click of his someday dragon teeth he unleashed the magic of the sparklingly different colours lights around his dancer's body; standing himself up and walking around her to use his eyes to move the dancing lights around her body as she moved. Shiny sparkly things were always good for distractions and impressing simple not-dragon species after all.

Time blurred a little as the set ended, and after a quick break he entered into a slower set than the second, and less ribald tune than the first, to allow time to pace himself. And his slave of course as she would be exhausted after this, but he himself had had a busy day and had much to discuss with idiots later; best not to ruin his glorious voice for these creatures after all. So he ran through another slow tune after that before starting to build with each song now that a crowd had shown an interest and no few had thrown coins or other shinies into the wicker basket laid out on the ground near to him...

...and then it was the final song, thankfully as he was growing tired, and he summoned one last casting of the spectral pipes and magic lights that adorned his dancing human; then focused on the lute and the spells of the wordless music as Fueryon gyrated furiously with spins, twirls, hand-stands, and swirling the now extended silk wraps that had been around her now moved like two swaying snakes around her body. Hands clapped and feet stomped, with some whistles mixing into the beat as she moved his music and magical commands faster and faster in a blur of red, green, and blue cloth and sparkling lights. Menkin summon one last blast of (non-lethal) phantasmical might as the last frantic notes came to an end and his bare footed slave performed some odd jumping motioning before falling to her knees on the grassy knoll as the fiery illusion surrounded her form to momentarily brighten the darkness of night.

'Yes! Yes! Give mighty dragon all your shinies for his horde! Is all part of great plan of Maekrix'edar'nesh Kirask'Iden'nabal! Muwhahahahahaha!' he thought to himself happily as more tribute was offered up for his gloriously magnificent performance as Fueryon padded over to him soaked in sweat and coloured '...hmmm, is smart having readies bathings for after this or have smelly slave later. Yes-Yes Menkin's you are smartest scaliest genius evers!'

"Fueryon's grabbings baskets of shinies and puts in bags for Masters..." he instructed, after bowing to those beings in awe of his brilliance of course, and moved to take hold of the bottles of alcohol in their bag. As his slave went about her task, taking the shiny coins and placing into the travel bag with his other important things unto her back, Menkin slung his lute across his back and took his staff into hand. Watchful eyes scanned for some of the dangerous, potentially cunning plan equipped, idiots from his home wandering about the village on their 'adventuring' business. Most of them leaving to achieve something of their useless lives indicated some measure of intelligence, but that didn't make them anywhere near sensible either...still...they had their uses as well...

Striding steadily forward as his sweat soaked slave followed obediently behind him as someone, a human female it sounded like, began shouting loudly a distance away about 'blessings' and 'goddess' and other such things. Armoured figures wandered by as he moved, a patrol moving to break up a drunken fight he guessed as he flowed around them, motioning with his staff at the band of idiots he sought as they sat about drinking a short distance away on a slight grassy knoll. He recognised two of them of course; fellow kobolds from Verthicha-di-shiny-uk in the shape of Tikde and Snakda who he could at least threaten into honesty, and ensure they followed through on whatever quest he paid them for. The other three weren't all that impressive either; two dum-dum goblins and a scrawny human female, but they were cheap and they'd do for hunting down herbs and small animals for him.

"Tikde, Snakda! Menkin comes and givings works likes promises! Betters nots wasting Menkins times nows eithers! Menkins is busiest of busiest tavern-owing sorcerers!"

Snakda in his ugly robes waved his arms about in 'triumph' of some sort as the others around him groaned about something "Sees! Sees! Snakda predictings! Alls youse shinies is now Snakdas! Mwuhahahaha!"

'Menkins is surrounded by idiots' he thought to himself before thwacking the aforementioned idiot cleric gently on the head with his staff as the hissing laughter continued longer than he'd like. The human startled at his Fueryon's approach, then gazing at the ground clearly intimidated by his slave's bored look in reply to the underfed lesser being "Shuttings ups dums-dums priest! Menkins nows too busys listening natterings of dum-dum minions whose suppose be workings fors hims! Hmph! Hmph! Nows you listening Mighty Menkins on whats you lookings fors and whats pays you yes-yes!"

"Heys! Noes hittings mes sorcerers! Me is mighty clerics of glorious Gaknulak and should respecting my authorithay..." the idiot replied rubbing at his head but adopting a deferential tone now that the drunkenness had been temporarily driven from his rather thick skull "...I boss of this team! Leaders!"

Menkin snorted rolling his eyes "And teams works for Menkins! So Menkins leader of leader cuz Menkins payings youse, and Fueryons boss of you toos cuz Menkins sayings so toos. Nows Fueryons shows thems whats Menkin wants..."

The drow female, the one that served the Orc Shaman rather than the one of the two cavorting around now in a failed attempt to be better than his and his slave's dancing and singing, who bossed around the adventurers for the orcs had signed off on the work for him so he had the right to do so. Still it might be useful he figured to be the patron of one such new bands before they either got themselves killed or successful, as it would allow him minions to do tasks he didn't want to risk his valuable slaves at. That's what freeborn minions were for after all; no loss if they went off and got themselves killed after all, beyond the initial payment really. So hopefully he could groom these ones into surviving into a useful force of some sort despite their less than stellar seeming abilities...

--

[Interlude 13]

--

[The Fortress in the Pass]

Tabys Glimmerstone drank deeply of her, somewhat more expensive than it should be, beer then sighed happily to herself and resting back languidly into her chair for the night...

"I am not your chair Tabs, quite moaning about wooden benches" Melvin grumbled back as big human hands slide around her waist, gripping and lifting her off her intended destination and unto the hateful and poorly constructed wooden benches of the tavern known as The Falling Orc. Probably built by bloody orcs too she was tempted to mutter as she found herself cast adrift and betrayed by her teammate – something that earned him a punch in the arm for his wickedness.

"But you make a better chair than you do an adventurer! Take thine place as mine noble throne! Know it is thy destiny to be so honoured! You know you'll like it!"

Sadly her human friend rolled his eyes, sighing, while the other chuckled at him as she patted his leg and gave him a seductive pose "Please stop, just...stop. You're not sitting in prime puking territory after the last time Tabys...and trying to puppy dog eye me is not going to work either"

"Boo! Boo I say!"

"Well you can boo all you like but you sit on the bench like the rest of us. Just remember...comfortable bear fur covered beds to sleep in after this. No burrows or caves or trees to hide under...just nice, comfortable beds...ahhhhh"

"Ahhhhhhh...beds" Tabys agreed as the team emitted a happy sigh in unison. Things really hadn't been going well these past few ten-days; murderous, and worse, organised and well-armed Orc warbands had started patrolling the Crags for parties such as theirs, and then Mirabar had come under-siege of an undead and mercenary horde from Luskan cutting them off from re-supply. Now they had to hold up in Xantharl's Keep out in the middle of boring old nowhere...with its warm, comfortable and absolutely wonderful beds. Oh beds, how she missed them right now; nobody had warned about that irritating factor in this whole 'adventuring' thing.

"I say we head back towards Waterdeep...I want to adventure, and explore lost cities for their treasures. Not...fight in a war" Eshanya murmured softly from over her flagon of beer. Tabys nodded in agreement with her half-elven companion, it really wasn't what they'd formed their merry band to do after all. And it didn't help for the fact...

"Yeah! And those Mirabarans total lied to us too! Hunt down a few scattered and savage orcs they say! It'll be easy coin they say! Nobody said it was an army up there now did they! No not one word of it! Or that they'd be at war with Luskan too and we can't get back in to get paid! Nuh-uh that ain't right!" she whined, leading unsaid the whole 'Harp Banners' indicating backing by the Harpers from what she knew from her cousin's ramblings over the years "...I vote with Eshi! Southward Ho!"

"After we rest a day or two first of course" Melvin answered and she nodded along with all the others "...we've got enough coin for that, and best wait for a caravan to leave for Longsaddle"

"Aye! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!" she chanted back waving her now empty tankard at the barmaid after standing up on the dreadful, obviously non-gnomish made, bench to get attention. Big folk were just ignorant like that in pretending not to see her gnomish glory by their smug, stuck-up, tallness she'd found. Also...it gave an opportunity to dance and show off her stuff as she hopped up unto the table with a jump and began to shake her hips and raise arms into the air. Melvin face palm while Eshanyi laughed, clapping along with Unter to her dancing beat...

...only for her awesomeness to be interrupted by a dirty peasant as she burst into the tavern wailing like a banshee "...OMING! THERE COMING! WERE DOOMED! EVERYBODY NEEDS TO FLEE!"

"WHAT'S COMING YE DAFT TWIT?" the attractive, but very muscled, human woman behind roared at the intruder after slamming her fist unto the solidly build wooden countertop. It startled Tabys certainly, at least enough to shout her mouth temporarily and let the dirty peasant blabber on that there was an army coming up from the south and was going to kill them all. Melvin groaned as they all looked at him as Team Leader and Team Ranger as unease spread through the common room.

"FINE. I'll go have a look he grumbled pushing himself up and downing the last bit of his tankard and Tabys and the others saluted him with their own full tankards and a small cheer. He glared at them before vanishing outside along with one or two others; either from the other party across the room, or from the caravan group they were planning on travelling with if they had a chance. With calm restored they began to drink again, though sadly she was made get off her dancing stage, and...

...Melvin burst through the doorway, stumbling against the bar before looking at them wild eyed. Then he was a blur, arms coming around her waist and throwing her over his shoulder like she was a bag of wheat as he grabbed their travel gear nearby "We're leaving now, yeah right now. Lurkwood looks lovely this time of year I hear"

"Mmmyyy bbbbbbeeerrrrrrr" Tabys moaned banging on his back as her tankard slipped its wonderful contents on the ground behind his boots "nnnnooooooo!"

"Why are we leaving?" Eshi managed to get out as their team leader herded them forward as another person burst through the doorway gesticulating wildly "...but, but...BEDS!"

"BEDS CAN WAIT! Thousands and thousands of savages...sorry Unter...and they've giant...skeleton lizard...wingless dragon skeletons maybe?...with them! I...yeah going time. Beds can wait...living better, and best get out before they lock the gates..."

'Wait...no beds?' popped into Tabys bed as the apparent plan of fleeing into the wilderness reached her ears as they ran out the doorway in a very familiar fashion, save no guards were chasing them this time, and squirmed in her companions grasp "Nnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooo!"

--

[At the Sign of the Rising Moon]

It was a good inn, but sometimes Shandril hated it – and this was one of those times. The moon was rising high up in the dark warm night sky, but her hands hurt from the scalding hot water of washing the dishes earlier and now the hot plates burned her hands faintly as she moved out into the taproom. It was warm and smoky, light and heat crackling out from the hearth and torches on the walls causing shadows to dance alone the great beams on the roof. Her home in the warm, comfortable, safety of its harsh but fair life for a servant to Gorsag – her prison also; always the same with only the travellers changing. Those who seen other places, who had done things...unlike her.

The room was quiet tonight, a few adventurers eating and drinking amidst the pipe smoking locals, which had once upon caused her nose to twitch in annoyance but now seemed familiar as always. Biting down on her annoyance, at Korvan the cook's constant complaining, she put on her best smile and walked past the nearest of the great oak tables to the large man sitting alone at the table in the corner. An adventurer obviously to her experienced barmaids gaze; wealthy too, the armour sturdy but gleaming darkly beneath the dark crimson cloak folded over one shoulder. Getting closer, bending a little to lower the plates to the table, she could see an expensive but probably well used sword resting easily at his side.

"Your pheasant good Sir, with vegetables, onions, and a tankard of our finest ale..." she began to say smiling at him as she placed the meal before him, looking up into his eyes. His eyes...

...she shivered despite the warmth of the inn. Such cold, dark, and seemingly bottomless eyes that met hers and feel unnatural in how they saw her; as if her very being was laid bare before him, judging her worth somehow as she stood frozen in an eternity. That handsome, yet somehow off, face did not smile or sneer as it studied her in that cold dispassionate manner that held her transfixed, lock helplessly in place despite time not truly seeming to move at all.

"A whelp eager for glory but blind to the cost, it seems that is the same for all races perhaps..." the voice rumbled through her very being, harsh and cold, yet trilling her senses with the urge to do great deeds. To be more than this;, to be somewhere else and stand tall "...but, hmmm, adequate to purposes I see. Many paths are before you whelp, some to power, to glory, to death...yours and those you would come to love...and they come soon. Would you like that whelp?"

She didn't moan, or whimper it out. No, she didn't she told herself at the soft and low reply "Yyyesssss"

Then blinked, mind frantically alerting her to something "Except the dying part; that would be bad"

A snort of amusement perhaps "Indeed, it usually is. But I can see you want more than this indeed?"

Shandril gave her own snort now, bravery exerting itself in bravado of sorts as she forced shaky legs to straighten to stand as if merely conversing as always with a customer. Rather than fighting the urge to flee or fall to her knees "Oh and you'll gift me such will you? Get the young girl alone after tricking with honeyed words"

"Hah hah hah..." the soft laughter seemed to rumble like thunder in her head, a tension building before a fight broke out in the taproom "...oh whelp, so blind...but that is no fear from such as I. For I would not be wasting time tricking a woman to rut like a coward or a weakling, nor on one such as you who has not won any glory or strength to bring interest in such eyes. No, destiny is approaching you whelp; by my hand or by another's it will all benefit my plans in some manner of course, but I offer you the chance in exchange for mere seasons of service to my cause. I as your patron, and you as my blade; your chances of survival at the very least would be somewhat higher in this matter whelp. Why I've just the female to help train you in mind..."

"And what...do I have to..." she wasn't sure why her mouth was dry, why she believed what she was been told beyond the fact tricking a peasant girl wasn't something a noble lord such as this would bother doing. Truth echoed in the words, albeit a dark truth somehow. So she listened, nodding her head and moving back to her life as it was with the words hammering around in her head with each minute as she worked. Time just seemed to fly by, night growing ever darker without and within as the fires faded and customers drifted away like the exit of man in dark armour and cloak of crimson. All she had to do was follow...or not; the choice was hers, but it was a choice and...

The night breeze was cool on her skin as she padded silently through the night black streets. She could observe silently if he was there, if...should...

She shivered, but not from the cold but with excitement and the call to adventure...

--

[Karguk 54]

Village of Zybelin's Drift, Spartan Valley, Illusk

I frowned in thought as I lowered my raised fist now that the magic vanished with the end of the chant; yet lingered somehow around me as the unnatural thing before me rose at my command. The mechanics of the whole thing were rather creepy in truth as the dark shadowy energy roiled silently and invisibly to normal eyes around the bones and tattered cloth. Clicking and creaking as rotten bones were forced together into a humanoid shape, a constant tug on my own energies as best I could feel as the fleshless skeleton stood crudely before my eyes. Personally I wasn't sold on necromancy, but I had skilled necromancer to teach me so one found it best to make use of such a learning experience; even if just for the practical and pragmatic reasons understanding the spells oft used against me.

"Well isn't that a jolly skinless fellow!" my erstwhile mentor murmured, humming with hand on chin as he wandered about the unholy crime against nature standing before him "...you can feel the drain trying to maintain it where the body isn't held together by anything but the aether itself"

I nodded; it was taking effort and concentration to keep the thing standing. No much compared to summoning, but I could feel the drain and time limit of sorts attached ticking down in my end "Yes, it's like holding undo a slippery fish, or a rope maybe...there's a pull...a pressure there"

"Indeed my good orc! Indeed! No hold on this plane as long as you can and we shall time it as our other apprentice performs! Sydney, my dear, if you would?" Doctor Ned replied, turning from me and motioning at the young woman standing in a white light sleeveless tunic-skirt than came down just above her knees, and magically bonded slave collar around her neck standing to his side. There was no pained look this time, just a curious look at my own summons before taking a breath and raising her hands to begin the chant and hand gestures demanded of her for the incantation. Or at least for the new to the trade mages that we were as I'd seen Doctor Ned perform the whole thing in almost the blink of an eye.

Missy sat siesta nearby with her spell-book resting between her knees and studying my own effort and that of the slave-apprentice as Sydney went through her own careful pronunciation. She was still somewhat grumpy she wasn't to practice the spells today, despite her not liking necromancy in general, for the fact spell-casters who were pregnant were best not advised to mess around with energy from the negative energy plane in spells they didn't know inside and out.

But currently she merely looked curious and intent upon her studies as our rather expanded 'study circle' rested here up on the flat part of the barren area at the rear of the village...within the very large ritual and protective circle. Because you really, really, really, needed such things when you'd got Harkle and Bella Harpell as part of your study group; or any of that family of wizards really, but Harkle's last casting of the more advanced version of the Animate Dead had exploded. Somehow, we still weren't a 100% sure why at the moment, and a very good remainder why I'd insisted such 'learning' took place away from flammable things like houses, fields, and villagers.

"Excellent work Sydney my dear! Excellent work!" our master necromancer congratulated our quasi-prisoner, quasi-colleague as her magic unleashed and formed another construct, binding it in place as her hand pulsed brightly a moment. A genuine grin decorated the woman's face as the unnatural creature, a dead animal of some sort like a fox or dog maybe, moving around in place, till the magic faded after a few minutes and old bones clattered uselessly unto the ground like my own a few moments before.

I sighed, utilising my divine casting of course rather than the more complex arcane version of course; but the guidance given had helped and it certainly had given the good doctor information on the differences between the spells. While I wasn't quite at that 'Level' yet I suspect I probably could pull it off if given enough time and effort, though I could pull off Bone Dance now with considerable effort. Unfortunately that spell was...limited...in its usefulness due to requiring my utter concentration to merely make the bag o'bones move, or even swing a weapon poorly.

'Which isn't overly useful right now – one step at a time Karguk, one step at a time' I reminded myself stretching slightly in my armour. Practicing in my armour, especially now the shocking warm weather had passed into merely summer heat despite being autumn and it wasn't suffocating uncomfortable anymore, was the easiest way to learn to make the spells useful in combat. Armoured Arcana, despite technically not existing yet, was a requirement for a Cleric-Mage such as myself who tended to double as secondary fighter when called upon by the nature of battles, or challenges to my authority. As such I tended to favour spells that worked in support of that, or at least those outside of ritualistic nature. I liked ritual magic, even if it was time consuming it was much more organised and controllable I found.

I glanced to my side at a whistling signal from Hresghk own of my escort, then at the dwarf woman slouching against the dead tree beside him as she motioned in a bored manner back towards the village. Following Cruenditha's gesture I noted the white-clad forms of two drow approaching; Qilue Veldadorn and one her priestess guards dressed in light cloth summer dresses and without weapons. Though I was fairly sure the other drow woman was a mage, or like myself a cleric-mage though with more arcane than divine spells, and potentially the reason for the attendance. I greeted them with a polite nod as they drew near, she'd attended the big harvest celebration yesterday with her troupe of merry singing exhibitionists and looking surprisingly fresh and energetic considering what she'd drank, and the amount of dancing she'd done.

"Priestess, Acolyte, greetings, I imagine you've come to join our somewhat eclectic study group?"

"Shaman, greetings" she replied with a nod of her head, the much shorter drow woman doing likewise half-hidden behind her as she looked eager to join them "...indeed, young Narcelia was most eager to accept the invitation offered"

I motioned at that protective circle I'd just stepped out from as the others discussed amongst themselves, or looked curiously at our new guests "Of course, just take a place wherever you like. You might want ink and quill as well..."

"Do not worry, I always have paper and ink on me in case of note-taking being needed!" the acolyte replied as a small satchel came into view on her back as she moved forward without a hint of delay as I gestured towards the ritual area. I blinked, then shrugged as the drow girl-woman took a seat between Bella Harpell and the God-slave with the crimson hair and almost reddish-orange eyes, with one of my own acolytes by the name of Jhyurt. Turning back to the Drow High Priestess I saw her motion to the side a moment, to which I nodded in reply before walking a few steps to the side and stood with my back to the others and hers to my escort. It wasn't much privacy, but it didn't seem overly important either from her motioning of the hand at my curious look at her.

"I have been told that a caravan from Longsaddle is soon to arrive in this village, my I know as too your intentions in regards their arrival?"

I shrugged, sighing as I rested back against the old tree behind me with a sigh "Yes, scouts reported back as such and word was sent to Bella of their arrival, and they'll rest here a day or two before we return to the stronghold proper with us. I'd planned to travel the valley to arrange the harvest once my wife gave birth, but that's put aside for the moment as Malchor Harpell is in attendance and wishes to discuss matters I imagine, so that plan's out for now. I know you'd wanted to see as such, and you still can as I'm putting Rose and grandmother in charge of the harvest collection under my first wife and you can go with them if you so wish?" I snorted in amusement "...though I imagine you would prefer to sit in discussion with the Master of the Tower of Twilight?"

"You imagine correctly" a curt but not unfriendly reply as the unnaturally tall drow nodded her head in agreement, eyes calmly surveying myself and the goings on around her. I planned on boaching the matter later on anyway, it was just hard to fit time in between Ghorza being soon to give birth mixed with all the usual madness, and the giant-ass boozing and feasting festival the village here had last night. Something that had meant me working to keep order and discipline amongst my clan-orcs; thankfully there'd only been two deaths in the end due to gambling turned sour rather than attempts rape, murder, or theft.

"That's understandable, though I'll warn the drow named Drizzt shan't be among them, though supposedly he and his teammates are returning this way now that they have succeeded in their quest and know of, well..." I nodded at the red haired human girl sitting with arms folded across her chest, giving occasional glares at Sydney or talking magic apparently with the God-slave most called cold hands "...collect my orc-hating guest so she, her fiancée, and friends, can skip off into the sunset to somewhere not here"

She gave an unladylike snort, shaking her head ever so faintly "And here I had thought you fond of the child to show such kindness to her, or had shown favour to her companions in your supposed prophesies"

I shrugged again, resisting the urge to roll my eyes "Oh she's a good decent person...who hates orcs, which I am, even without her and her friends having a destiny as well. So I'm happy to help them succeed...and be far away from here having their heroic adventures. Or as I call them; Zones of Disasters or Disasters about to happen. With Luskan and Mirabar trying to murder me and mine I can do without the extra headache, brave and adventurous that they are; now the dwarf is a King they've a lovely place to go that's not here"

She chuckled "Oh, and is my presence another of these headaches you speak of?"

"A very intelligent and pretty one I'll admit like your colleagues and Lua, but somewhat so; alongside dealing with the more idiotic and murderous cretins that still lurk amongst my fellow clan-orcs and supposed allies...oh, and of course I'm more waiting for whatever hammer My Boss and Yours have conspired at to drop on me...us. Because it will, mark my words"

"Young orc you are such a cynical creature for one of your station and calling"

"Lua says that too. I believe, I'm loyal, and I do what the Boss commands; albeit without the stupid that comes with many of my brethren I hope. Thankfully he's not One Eye in that regards. That doesn't mean I'm blind to us being the ones to get the marching orders, and them being the ones to give the really hard tasks to complete with said marching orders. Two High Priests in the one valley, with adventurers with a destiny wandering all about, yeah my guards up..." I admitted, then shrugged "...that aside; I trust there have been no difficulties for your priestesses last night? Or, at least beyond the normal for this place and what was agreed"

--

When: Autumn, 1356 Dale Reckoning

Where: Still in Zybelin's Drift surprisingly. Based laid plans an' all that.

I've got the trade caravan on the way from Longsaddle so my plans have been disrupted somewhat, added to by the fact of Zah sending word of our forces conquering the Sky Ponies. Yet, somehow beyond me, fucking Obould of all bloody orcs is now the clan chief of now vassalage suffering Uthgardt tribe; and now the army has turned to burning out our remaining enemies in the area before the winter comes. Oh, and asking for extra supplies of course but that's not unexpected so once the squads who came back all rested up, and I can scrounge up a few fresh ones, I'll send them on their way back.

A decent sized guard is always needed in the Crags, especially with all these damned murder-hobos I've being getting reports of; or at least murder-hobos that aren't ours anyway. One of my outer patrols came back with heads and a prisoner after all, a female Halfling fighter or rogue as best can tell who's now off to be sold as a slave, which is an issue as they'll attack pretty much anything that looks threatening/weaker-than-them generally. Evidenced by a few of the further out patrols finding the aftermath of fights between similar groups and small bands of clanless orcs drifting towards us or the Moonblades.

I'll admit we're ruthlessly hunting them down just as much as they are our outliers and villages so it's just the cruel nature of things sadly. Truth be told I'm open to some those murder-hobos perhaps willing to work for us, or just saying neutral, coming over to our side but those orders are gone to out to, well, orcs and oft vengeful vassal auxlia. Such as the group mentioned who taken out by goblins who only took a prisoner I expect due to the payday inherent in such a captive. Lack of cavalry, Zah having taking them, is a nuisance in that regards but our watchtowers and ranger patrols make up for it.

We've gotten pretty good at it after five years, and we've finally getting enough concrete being produced for it to be more than just a basic mortar and patching material in the stronghold so that helps 'quick' build of small defensive/observation areas. Areas to watch and catch intruders, and stall larger enemy forces, and then hit them with our heavy infantry and the three magic-tanks I've gotten here. Well. Technically four but the fourth War-Wagon is 'under construction' so speak, and without empowering the crystals to make it move it isn't really useful despite being mostly complete. Damn things cost alot of effort, in terms of time, material, and magic, to create let me tell you; still worth it though in combat.

In part the slow process on them has to do with study and training time taking away from them. Something I think is badly needed, and when I had the chance a subject I've being putting time into. Got our merry little study circle up and running almost daily, and my necromancy (of all things) has been made some significant strides. Somewhat of an unfair advantage perhaps, as basic knowledge of the human body and biology often counts as 'advanced theoretical necromancy' and a past life has grand more knowledge than many here would have after years of an apprenticeship. Once you know what you're doing then circulating the magic through dead flesh, or using it to hold bones together like a strange demented puppet of sorts; fun, or more-so disgusting and creepy, times!

But I can now summon my own undead skeleton minion(s) with some effort; so while they aren't truly very strong or useful it does give understanding for my perennial undead problem, and it's a starting point to build from. Much like my efforts into learning, successfully, Skulltrap, because that's a very useful trap spell to have in my arsenal should the need arise – just have a skull, the will to carve the runes, a bit of magic and hey presto magic landmine. Of course the danger of the spell is that just like a landmine once it's armed it's not going to discriminate between you and the enemy, or an enemy and a curious rat. One potential use is for binding the skulltrap to a animated skeleton or zombie and use them as mobile bombs. It seems a practical way to make use of both spells if traps or enemies need clearing without risking my own, and my allies, lives.

Unfortunately that's all going to have to be put on the backburner once again with the arrival of the Harpell delegation; politics and the more mundane, but vital, task of keeping order with strangers milling out in our lands. It's always a headache because as much there's' been reforms; orcs are savages, and so are most of the humans and other races too in these areas. It's been something of a race between our clan and vassal numbers swelling and my 'officer corps' and 'not-so-secret' police to maintain, and expand wherever possible order and harsh but fair laws. One that's been won so far, but it's a never-ending battle but after five years my Red Branch Knights are starting to turn into able lieutenants and sub-leaders that prefer these rules over the more savage 'traditions' of other clans.

That's on the clan side, and for the vassal side I have to delegate the harvest collection and 'count' with Rose and her grandmother under Oggy's command. I'm not particularly worried about any issues arising in regards the yield; it's been damned good even from the expanded fields here, but ensuring it's stored away and not having fights break out over it. Or rats, and other vermin, getting in at it either of course. One big drawback is that my small army here is now focused upon the collection of the harvest, or in the case of my clan-orcs training and building, and cannot do other (military) things because of it. And even that's going to have to encamp back at the stronghold to handle guarding the Harpell's delegation, and then misery of the slightly-later-arriving Team Mithril Hall. Ugh, that's going to be a pain in the arse right there.

Now I'm going to play with my children, and try avoid getting shouted at by Ghorza as she nears, very near Oggy says, giving birth. Work and dealing with the likes of Qilue and her crazy band has helped distract from that anxiety, in the usual manner of pretending it doesn't exist by ignoring the matter. And as always stressing silently as it nears, because can't show weakness to the minions because orcs, but one can only pray all goes well and all dangers are minimised. Honestly magic, when we're bothered to use it due to 'weeding out the weak' ideas of the One Eye's lot, has a dramatic effect on ensuring safe childbirth. Considering our rather harsh training regime, and resulting deaths of stupid evil sorts, it's an argument that we weed out the weak in that manner rather than letting healthy babies die because of stupid reasons. Considering Oggy's Head Priestess – least theirs allowance made here same as we did with Mara.

Anyway, Slan go foill a chardaí.

--

When: 1356DR, middle of autumn by now I reckon despite this extended good weather.

Where: Travelling back to the stronghold resting at the river (more big stream) crossing

Weather's still nice; though thank the Boss the heat has been at reasonable levels these past few days with a few showers in between. Shouldn't complain too much over it I suppose, it's given a bumper harvest, but it does likely herald a hard winter in balance and that I shan't look forward too. Because that means the usual howling winds and blizzard snows locking the valley down and driving us all inside; though at the moment it's more a water shortage with the river down to nothing from the extended sunshine and only intermittent rains. And yes I'm talking about the weather, always a bad sign of talking around matters one sat down to write on.

So yeah, I've another son, healthy and safe. And Ghorza's healthy but exhausted, so I'm happy as ever about that joyous fact. Less so with having to leave him and the other children behind after maybe an hour in the little sprog's presence because, of bloody course, it was time to depart with this merry band of problems for the stronghold. Ghorza's not ready to move yet, and Oggy is sorting matters in my stead – so, yeah, back to focusing on work and other duties till they return to the stronghold in a week or two. Personally I think it's just Oggy wanting to enjoy travelling around the valley and surveying our territory; or conspire with Rose on how to break the legs of people she doesn't like better. Or just get away from the sideshow.

Because yeah I've the Chosen of Two Goddesses, Harpells obviously wanting me to do something for them but not sayng what yet, Cattie-Brie of the never-ending sulk, and of course the gaggle of merchants desperate enough to come here again. Because now we're part of a regular trade route from Longsaddle and the word they bring of the world isn't ideal either. Seems other Uthgardt armies are marching, and Luskan has either besieged Mirabar, taken it, or has joined up with them to fight this great horde of barbarians. Rumours they are fun, and Malchor Harpell hasn't said much on it yet, likely because he wants to discuss it in private and have us doing something stupid. Or maybe he's just pissed off at Mirabar because of them stabbing everyone in the back and breaking his brokered deal. One will find out soon enough and...

For now it'll have to wait, we're ready to move again. Sooner can get back to the Stronghold the sooner I can sit down properly with the returned apprentices of Halnguk and Greshka and have them tell me in-depth of their time in the Tower of Twillight. Slan.

--

[Roland 08]

Longsaddle trade caravan, Stronghold of Sparta

Roland groaned softly to himself as he rode; he wasn't sure to be more bothered by the fact of the bizarre orcs stronghold continuing to expand, or of the fact he was almost glad to finally arrive at the place. Yet more of the Harpell induced insanity that the world had become as usual, and as a son of Longsaddle he knew he really should be used to it by now he told himself, but it was no easier than the first time sadly. Instead he tried to remind himself of being glad to have survived getting here intact, not being betrayed and killed by the orcs, and potentially would soon have a bed to sleep in rather than a brief nap under/atop the wagons. And that the village, rather more importantly, could do with the trade of goods with these savage-folk even if just to expand the village diet somewhat from the basic staples.

"Hate ta' admit it, but damned good ta' be able to rest Sherriff, been a damned uncomfortable journey 'ere let me tells ya" their dwarven member Gunnar grumbled, getting a nod from the taller and human Warl on the horse on Roland's other side. Roland himself did the same; it had been a troublesome journey, more than the previous ones oddly enough, owing to two attacks bandits claiming to be adventurers and hungry and/or disturbed wildlife. Nobody had been killed from the caravan, thank the gods, but that was largely due to those poor greedy fools having no idea as to what they had been attempting to loot by their actions. Though he had to admit the Orc Banners signifying a 'pact' with this Illusk had been the motivating factor for the two surviving fools of one of those bands chained up in one of the wagons behind him.

"Aye, though get too relaxed about such Gunnar. Remember orc stronghold, and gaggle of greedy desperate idiot merchants the Harpells want us to guard. Oh, and the Harpell family members being present too of course, can't forget them" he reminded them just in case; it was part of the job to ensure certain idiots didn't cause somebody/something to spontaneously combust/explode during their stay here. Not that could do much more that shout - 'don't do that! Malchor said!' - or - 'common sense warning! Lord Ardanac said!' - at the magically imbued agents of explosions and chaos. Roland sighed at the thought; sometimes he wondered why he'd taken on the job as village sheriff...and then he remembered the coin and nice had sounded rather attractive in compensation.

"An' what're we doin' we the two fools tha' tried ta' rob us"

Roland shrugged, chainmail clinking ever so softly, in reply to Gunnar's question "Up to the Mage-Lord and his brother, not leaving'em here though or they'll end up dead or slaves. Be uncivilized really, so I'd guess we'll have guard them all the way back home and put them into a few years labouring as serfs till they pay off the dues for their crimes against the village"

"Ugh, gonna be a headache havin' ta guard'em through all this, an' then back ta' the village..." the ever complaining dwarf complained despite it been he, himself, who'd taken both of the idiot bandits alive after calling for them to surrender before they got the fate of incinerated-by-harpell like their five companions "...jus' when'a were lookin' ta get a good night's sleep in an' inn. Even iffin' it's run by a bloody kebold, near as bad as gnomes theys are...same really, xept scaley, and bigger egos...and less creepy laughter"

Roland ignored the comment, Warl responding and his two militiamen engaged in a conversation about how dwarves were better than all the other height challenged races, and gazed at the castle-town rapidly coming into view ahead of them on its jagged rocky hilltop. It was a pleasant sunny day, and their destination was clearly visible lad out before them under the clear blue harvest sky; from the ugly walls and stonework of the old castle to the fields of gold, green, and red that lay out around and before its defences.

Wheat, barley, cabbages, bushes of berries, and other growing things he judged by sight and the familiar smells; all being harvested by slaves in what seemed one piece cloth tunics down to their knees he saw as the caravan began to rumble up the path to the stronghold. Most seemed to orcish blooded, or goblins, so he wasn't particularly bothered by that as he rode by, but the likes of sun tanned human girl who glanced up at them curiously was in some ways.

Visits to Luskan, and to Uthgardt villages , always brought the same annoyance as well and you learned to live with it. He shrugged turning away, to study the crude outer walls, and the smoke billowing upwards in gentle grey streams from what he guessed to be the fires of forges. More than their last visit to this place at that, and he made a mental note to try get a better look, if possible, to see the extent of that development; while two members of the Harpell family with two guardsmen had been here he was sure they had given little thought to such things. And from experience men guarding the mages rarely had time to do anything but focus on their duty at hand.

'That and the village can't afford be exactly picky about ones...friends...in these dark times. Gods, haven't seen a drop of decent Neverwinter ale or brandy in ages' he mentally grumbled at the state of the world. Only the best armed, and therefore expensive and almost none of the regular, caravans could afford to risk the Long Road these days. And considering the village's reputation, and size, the profit really wasn't there with the road past Mirabar essentially closed...worse than closed now with word of the city been under siege, and a massive Uthgardt horde heading northwards it as well. Whether to fight the Luskan's or aid them nobody knew in the rumours; not that mattered as both/either would still attack Mirbar.

And then there was the mercenary host that Mirabar had first sponsored to help some Uthgardters, and then betrayed, that had marched/looted/burned its way south, towards maybe Triboar or Yartar, through the wilderness. Which of course had disturbed said wilderness while they tramped their way through it, burning the odd 'evil' farmer or trader on the way apparently, it had caused the current problem of driving off these creatures to become even harder. Two of the rangers, and one of the druids, who the village had hired from amongst adventurers stuck in the village had gone missing (presumed dead) in the past few ten-days in that general area after all and the village had had to spend a great deal of time handling a growing vermin problem in the fields and stores.

Those issues got pushed to the back of his mind as they drew near to the entrance to the orcish stronghold and the numbers of orcs and other folk grew in numbers. Turning his head to the side he glanced back at Gunnar and Warl who it seemed were still debating the merits of Gnomes, Halflings, and Kobolds apparently "Oi, you two coming into the place filled with lots of heavily armed orcs. Also filled with kobolds and other creatures, gobbies too – and ones not as stupid as the average gobby either, so shut' it on the whole talking about which is more a pest than the other. I'm heading back down the wagons to inform the Mage-Lord Ardanac and Lord Malchor that we have arrived"

"Right Boss" – "Aye Sherriff" came back as he spurred his horse in the flanks with the spurs and twisting the reins to guide the beast in the desired direction. He nodded at the various folks on the wagons on the line behind him, a few looking suddenly less eager now an orc town had come into view while others now looked relieved that they'd arrived. The brief stop in the village of Zybelin's Drift, where the human villagers had clearly lived under the orcs rule a few years without utter disaster or slaughter, had done much to calm the nerves of those merchant-adventurers who had not accompanied the previous caravans to this crazy place. Or at least till the group of scary, but also scantily clad and elf-style attractive, Drow women had appeared and then joined their merry expedition.

"...three red dragons as prophesised at a twisted tower..."

"...my sister lives though, Dove and her comrades were too..."

"...injured, but yet survives. Words comes that she will..."

"We shall discuss further in private in time, I believe we have arrived my Lady Veladorn"

'And of course the scariest of all of them, Her Unnaturally Tallness the Black Elf, is consulting to the Lords again; oh joyous day!' he groaned internally as the two senior Harpell wizards came into view riding their mounts with the drow women between them on her own, black coloured of course, horse softly discussing matters he'd rather not know of he expected. Trotting his own mount forward towards them, a swift matter as they moved towards him as well, he slowed and turned it as he neared and his horse gave a small protest as it was required to turn once again.

"Ah, my good Sherriff Roland, we have arrived at our destination it seems. Apologies, it seems we hath been distracted by our consultation..." Mage-Lord Ardanac greeted him looking at him for a moment, then at nearing fortress, before glancing back at Roland with a nod "...I trust all is in good order for our arrival?"

"Aye Lord Ardanac, I've left Gunnar in charge with Warl at the van of the wagons for the moment, but there has been no trouble beyond that of the slowness of our journey I fear. We shall mere hours before nightfall to organise the securing of the wagons, and of where the merchants are permitted to establish themselves to barter their goods"

"Of course, such matters are always a burden even when the journey is ended my good man. I shall find the Shaman and his folk and arrange such matters, if you would kindly ride herd upon these fine, but perhaps unthinking, gentlefolk under our care I will send for thee once such matters are dealt with..." the Mage-Lord replied with a tired smile, then turned his head towards Lord Malchor and the over-tall-Drow "...Malchor if you escort this fair lady to her followers, and then keep a firm hand upon your apprentice...and Bella and Harkle too of course. I believe is currently discussing theoretical spells development with one of Lady Veladorn's acolyte's and that colourful necromancer"

"Truly an easy task you give me Ardanac..."

--

[Karguk 55]

Keep, Stronghold of Sparta

I sat down in the middle of the protective circle with a weary sigh, bringing leg over leg to sit in a crude approximation of a half-lotus position atop the faintly glimmering runes and sigils on the floor. Barriers against any direct, or indirect, attempts to influence my mind during these 'private' negotiations; but mainly against unwanted scrying and magical snoopers, with a first layer to ignore and the second aggressive 'you scry – you fry' spirit protections. I almost snorted at that in amusement; and it seemed such a great measure in game terms, but apparently in real life people made protections against such things.

Taking a breath and resting hands on my knees, I looked across at the others sitting in their own little circles of magic within the larger great circle here in the upper hall of the Keep. Standing beyond Hreshgk and two others of my guards stood within line of sight, but unable to hear our words "I do believe that would be the privacy of this discussion ensured, and so I gather there are things to be asked that are both moderately important, and I probably won't like considering what's going on in the lands all around the Crags"

"Too the point, if that is how you wish it..." the similarly sitting, though probably more impressive looking, form of Malchor Harpell sat, the Mage-Lord Lord to his right and the dark-skinned Qilue Veladorn to his left between myself and his position sitting on the stone floor of the Keep "...the situation in the north has come to dangerous crossroads. Mirabar is besieged by the mercenary and undead armies of the Host Tower, and now word comes a great host of Uthgardt march upon the city as well. Whether to aid or fight the Luskans we do not know, but whatever the situation they will most likely...nay it is guaranteed that still attempt to take the city by storm in the coming season"

I took a breath and sighed, I could see where this was going but best act shtum on the matter and wait for him to continue after silence and glances between the old mage and his kinsman, and elder of that particular family; who was the one to continue evidently. Perhaps in an effort to double team me in the negotiations, though one couldn't be sure "Mirabar must not be allowed to fall"

"I'm sorry, but Mirabar made a deal with me and my clan, and then stabbed us...and their own minions by the way...in the back, and then tried to kill us all of with a surprise ambush while they allied with the Host Tower during it. So, sorry to say, weeping tears of sadness for them is not really high on my list of things to do for the next few months; surviving the damage they've done to us is"

Best to put that politely of course, but it wasn't exactly untrue in that Mirabar were backstabbing traitorous bastards who had, in fact, tried to wipe us out alongside their Host Tower buddies. Oh I could understand why they'd done it, and it was also why I'd made some plans just in somebody betrayed us before that particular battle, but didn't mean I could be overly sad for them right now because of it. So they gotten betrayed by the Host Tower of Luskan, wow big bloody shock there, and were screwed because of it; while I wasn't going to say burn baby burn it wasn't a place I was overly focused on risking my folk to save. Because that's what these two wizards, and likely the silent drow lady, very much wanted me to do apparently judging by the faintest inclination of the head and cold tone from Malchor.

"Yet, action must be taken on the matter or see the region fall into chaos"

More powerful than me they might be, more intimating and dangerous, but I was Clan Shaman and the good of the clan came first. Emotions aside I could do my calm but cold Shaman voice too "The region is already in chaos, and it is very easy to call for action when it is not your people's blood being spilled to try and aid those who are already proven oath-breakers by their own actions. I'd also like to point out - we're already engaged in fighting here in Crags because of said actions, and the army you're angling for isn't exactly available at the moment for other than for defending. Even if I can convince the other clans to march out to save a bunch of humans and dwarves who stabbed us in the back already, well...a big ask considering I am the most reasonable of my kind in this alliance to do such things let me tell you, and I not convinced to do so at this moment in time"

The Harpell Elder this time it seemed "But as Malchor states; action must be taken regardless. So one must start with convincing one such as yourself of the need. Your anger is understandable, regrettable but unsurprising considering the unfortunate matters that have occurred since our last conclave. As ever then it comes to what is needed to resolve such matters, for it is in the interest of none for Mirabar to be destroyed, or for mutual enemies of our respective groups to gain control of the city"

I accepted that point with a nod of the head "Yes, that is an issue, but it still does not deal with the matter of Mirabar itself being out to get us wicked orcs. Or, well, the more pressing matter of all the murder-hobos, I mean...Adventurers...they managed to unleash into these hills trying to kill everything that looks at them funny while they attempt to rob everything that isn't nailed down. And that will take time to deal with, as will for the fighting to die down against the traitorous clans...so yes, I do see the danger, and the urgency, of the matter. This is all without convincing my chief, and the clan other war-chiefs, and the...well, you understand – you're going to need a pretty hard sell for this my lord wizards. Beyond even my own distaste for backstabbers...I've enough of that type to deal with in my own people without adding to the list"

"Yes, it is a problem that our caravan encountered on our journey to the valley and forced myself and Malchor to slay some of these attackers. Time though, while urgent, is something that understood as a necessary evil to suffer and if one could be convinced of this need what could the earliest such a relief force could be arranged...should all these difficulties be dealt with to your, and your allies, satisfaction?"

'Ah, let's ignore the not wanting to fight part and look at it as if I'm already agreeing. Oh, well play along with the dangerous wizards who'll not want to pay the price' I mused to myself pushing the agreeing with them part to side and unto the practicalities of doing so if they found a way for me to convince my 'allies' to do so "Assuming you give solid reasons to embark on such a reckless course...it would be the spring, after the snows clear for good, at the very earliest before a horde could be mustered, move, and be fed as it does so in the empty lands of post winter. The harvest is being gathered now, the Crags filled with fighting that won't die down till the snows come, and one would need time to convince the others in that time anyway should I be convinced somehow. Even if I agreed today I could do little more than give a small band to raid the Uthgradt while I try to get everyone to change our already agreed plans to save our enemies"

"No sooner?"

Another sigh, I seemed to be doing alot of that with this discussion as I rubbed at my head in a tired motion at the elder Harpell's genuine sounding, rather than cold and unhappy, query "Speaking as if we had agreed. Then, No...Its mid-harvest season now and our forces are already after fighting hard for many ten-days. Marching to Mirabar now, without support of other clans, means we are outnumbered...badly...should our enemies unite against us. Or that the winter will roll in hard early and prove a disaster. There is a great difference for mustering our forces here in our lands, and in campaigning into those of our enemies..."

I paused "...and I imagine time would be needed to gather whatever forces of the Mirabarans and you can raise outside of its walls regardless. Such as those of the Dwarf foster father of my current red haired guest practicing down in the training-yard. Even if he's likely unhappy Mirabar probably sent assassins after him"

"Rogue elements within the Council of Sparkling Stones we've been assured" was the calm reply, almost convincing in the Arch-mage of the Tower of Twillight tone. I resisted, barely, giving a snort of disbelief at the suggestion.

"Of course, one who died in the battle with Luskan or ourselves I imagine, and I'm sure it had certainly nothing to do with them playing to win by wiping out everything that threatened their precious trade routes in one foul swoop. But that aside, I'm sure there are a few angry dwarves ready to kill things between them and the mines full of shiny metal they own, and that'll take a season or two as well under the newly minted King of Mithril Hall...so like us, Spring at the best for an army to risk battle"

"Yet the Uthgardt have been able to move my dear shaman..." the Chosen of Two Goddesses asked curiously cocking her head to the side and looking at me "...and the city may not be freed as no more than a burning wreck by the clearing of the cold whiteness of the surface winters"

I shrugged "You've been here, you've seen what goes into drawing an army out;- we were prepared, we did march out, and the battle was fought...and now we've the aftermath to deal with. The Uthgardt probably gathered supplies and rallied warriors since the end of winter to do this, and Luskan...well undead and mercs...but Mirabar has walls, and then the fortress and the mines. I'd doubt it'll fall easily, at least not if they retreat to said mines with food, and winter won't make a siege any easier...well, Uthgardt'll fight fine in the cold, same as zombies, but still have get inside the walls and then the whole way"

"I do believe my dear gentle mages that such matters give thee an answer on the time the city must buy itself to survive..." the drowish Chosen's smiling gaze shifted to the two Harpells "...as there is little use in trying for a n illusion in the face of the truth. Now, it merely comes to what is the price to be paid for such a deed?"

"And what would that price be Shaman Karguk?"

Now I did snort "Outside a pile of shiny mithril of course...you can't pay the price I would want;- aid in defeating Luskan, the Host Tower cast down and those vile Liches destroyed so my people can turn that pirate port into what the world hasn't got; a Orcish City, with everything we've been denied, houses, and learning, and not living like fucking savages like every generation past. With peace and trade between us, you, Neverwinter, and others for instance, but that you cannot give me that..."

--

[Karguk 56]

Shaman's Tower, Stronghold of Sparta

Tris snuggled up against me, in part it seemed fleeing the outstretched and snoring form of Lua who was sprawled out unintentionally claiming a rather wide area of the bedding for herself. Considering the others were away that wasn't an issue, but it was amusing to see Lara and Tris 'flee' outside of range of the drunken drowish female "Hmmm...comfy...hmmm"

I gave a faintly snort as the half-elf sleepily cuddled up against me, resting her head on my shoulder and arm and legs wrapping around my body chest and leg. Allowing the movement, and bringing that arm around Tris's back I held her close "Oh poor sleepy head, full of energy not too long ago when you woke me, and now all tuckered out"

"Sorry, ma-a-as-ter" was the half yawned, half poor attempt at seductive, reply as she closed her eyes immediately afterwards and settled into place against me with a giggle "...this poor half-elf slave lays defeated by thine orcish mightiness"

"Oh stop that now you, I've to get up and duties to suffer through soon enough..." I answered gently. Oggy and the others were still in the midst of controlling the harvest and other events of the 'tour' in the valley, so it was just me and mad duo...plus Lara who'd apparently been dragged out drinking by her 'mistress' late last night or near dawn...here in tower. With the stress of the 'negotiations' ongoing with our 'guests' it had been a welcome relief to rest first, and then 'suffer' through the drunken antics of the returned idiots beside me "...anyways hows the head my fair half-elf?"

"Hnnnn...tired Karg..." she hummed into my shoulder "...Lua wanted celebrate getting the Guild up and running, an' killing all the vermin some did...and then the other drow came, and they drank, and we drank, and kobolds drank..."

I chuckled "And then everybody drank all that booze they spent their hard earned coin on till someone named Karg had to send in a squad to calm down the drunken fighting and revelling before someone burned down the building"

"Hmm...it was a fun party...hmmm"

"Heh-heh, yes I heard"

"Hmm-hmmm...and you're busy again, need relax more Karg"

"Oh I'd love too, but you know; shaman work, and crazy wizards wanting me to do crazy things like saving the people who just tried kill us all a little while ago. And a new son, and Missy preggers, so bit on my mind at the moment I'm afraid. Gonna meditate soon too, priestly stuff ya know" I answered back looking up at the stone ceiling and the crudely done protective charms and sigils I'd been chalking or etching unto the stone since the...shadow-monster-assassin-things...when I had any free time or just to practice my casting.

It was also unmentioned that the big bloody Gods-walk-on-earth thing was a mere year and a bit away now, and we were embroiled in a do or die war with beings far too powerful for my liking hovering around in my midst. Beings that wanted me to do things for them, and yet even succeeding could get a knife in the back from any of the other powers should we succeed, somehow, yet get weakened in the process. That's when the hyenas gathered after all, and didn't deal with all my preparations to date assuming some degree of anonymity till the Time of Troubles were through. Now we were in a high stakes game, and power players paying attention...so moving was also urgent...

...I got a gentle knee to the hip from the dark haired elf, as her free hand began to rub my chest and shoulder "Boo! Doing it again! Relaxing time now, stress later...hmmm, we'll work it all out. Kill bad guys, conquer stuff, you know adventure"

Sigh, still it was a pleasantly amusement one as I focused on the here and now for the moment "You win, for now, my still half-drunken and ever lovely bard. Though I must say the 'adventure story' you wrote my dear Tris ended with the heroine chained up at the feet of the big bad orc"

"Hehe, it was very popular though...all that teaching orcs to read was best ever"

I groaned "Yeah, teaching them to read so they can read smut wasn't exactly the plan Tris. Or the fact everything things it's like your story of our adventure before coming here"

"You mean it's not?" came back with feigned confusion in her sleepy and cheerful tones. All I could figure was she, unlike the other two, had actually drank the potion for dealing with hangovers before getting hammered drunk earlier. Still I rested a little while as we made idle, or in her case half-asleep conversation on the visitors and of my figuring something out in regards the 'requests' being made of me and my clan. At least till she fell back asleep, snoring softly into me for a time before I gently disengaged myself from her and stood up from the beddings to begin another evening and nights work. Stretching a moment with a yawn, I glanced back and saw the trio snoring away; two quietly and one splayed out and snoring loudly drool running down her cheek.

I shook my head in amusement, and then stalked over to my armour and clothing as softly as I could manage barefoot. It was strange how used to the padded armour and crimson chainmail I'd become, the weight hardly even noticeable, I'd noticed as I dressed myself in no particular hurry. Faint sounds drifted in through the windows from the training yard below, and the gentlest feel of magic from below as acolytes hopefully taught the older children the basics to find the best prospects amongst them. After half a decade of hammering it into them one could hope the next lot of youngsters would have gotten a better grounding before they turned into fighters for the clan.

With a last glance to confirm I hadn't woken any of the three, I secured my sword belt and headed out of this chamber of my rooms within the tower and out into the hallway beyond. Promptly getting a salute and greeting from my guards there; something of a requirement really unfortunately, and I greeted them back and had them stay in place as I moved to ascend the stairway to the top of the tower. Past the next set of guards at the top, who were dicing it seemed, before rising to salute me as I opened the door there and exited out into the darkening gloom of the late autumn evening.

Soft fluffy grey clouds floated by as the sun set on one side, and the new moon rose on the other as the stars remained hidden behind the faint light of the sun holding back the darkness of the coming night.I smiled as I looked around at all the greenery around the ritual circle; despite the limited space, and this being, well, a tower...Mara and Kethri had done a great job with Rose's help in creating a rather colourfully beautiful (and useful) little herb garden. Then gazed out at the vast expanse of the valley laid out before me,; the view being clear in the crisp evening air, and I rested my gloved hands on the stone of the battlements so as to take a moment to wake up fully before the day's casting.

'Well, delayed enough, time to get the night started' I told myself after a short time enjoying the view, and checking my protective circle, then moving to sit in a half-lotus position on the cold ground in the middle of the etched ritual design. It nice for a change to do it atop the tower, and easier too for avoiding having acolytes and others want to 'help' with the evening prayers; here I could focus on my own queries, drawing my blade and resting it across my knees as I began to a quiet chant. That, and more importantly, drew upon my magic and attempting to 'connect' to the power of my patron deity for 'advice' on the matters at hand; for myself, when I wasn't getting direct orders, I'd created and used crude pseudo tarot cards to aid with something like my divination spell. Shuffling the 'deck' I began to draw as I pulled power into myself...

--

...a city was burning on a canvass of white, but the blood continued to seep and flow around from the great wall of metal, and stone, and rage, at its heart. Screams rose and fell as the fires died and the white advanced and retreated, crimson red staining the heart as it continued to beat. Then a tide flowed in from the south, and stained the whiteness in crimson...

...hands shook in agreement, blood spilled, magic flowed and burned on a field of death. Knuckle-bones rolling and bouncing, torn and etched from a foes broken body; a horn sounded and the walls came crumbling down as blood came pouring out from within to shatter them...

...dark dank caves...when weren't they dank dark caves?...filled with moss and darkness and screaming goblins, as evil squidward itched and rotted and near...gold gleamed, not gold but words and magic in gold. The snows howled outside, as a black wyrm and dragon of flame snapped and snarled at each other. Blood flowed, shining fire burned in silver light...

...a journey over hot coals, brief and savage, the warrior waiting as did the mage, the fires burning against the darkness as the smell and sounds of the dead neared...

--

...I opened my eyes, sighing. Great, just what I wanted to hear...see?...in relation to the coming seasons just as war neared. It seemed agreement was acceptable to the Boss at least, but it seemed I'd have a Quest to perform in the interim. I groaned to nobody in particular, negotiate a deal that gained us power and wealth, convince the other clans to accept such, oh, and potentially go off to play assassin or looter or whatever in an effort to appease the Boss. Oh, this was going to be...I sighed, looking up at the darkening sky. At least night was falling I supposed, and the darkness with it, so I shouldn't complain too much...

--