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With the bard and the paladin reassured, Surya, Sack and Hildraft used Sack's helm once again and teleported to the first of their targets, arriving outside the sprawl of Tolk Fortress in the early evening of the 27th. Approaching the main gates, the three stared up at the two guards standing on the parapet. "Halt! Who goes there?" they were challenged. "Open the gate!" demanded Hildraft in perfect orcish, and followed this with a mouthful of abuse. The two orcs looked at each other; clearly this wasn't a vaild answer to the question they'd been set to ask - although it seemed to be in their sort of language - so they didn't move, but waited for something more. Sack grinned nastily, and teleported again, arriving at the top of the palisade, right behind one of the guards. With a robust push, he sent the orc sailing over the sharpened stake breastwork, to land with a crash of splitered armour and smashed bone at the feet of the other two. The second guard turned to him, readying his spear with clumsy alarm. As he did so, a deafening crash from below heralded Surya kicking a six-foot-square section completely out of the heavy wooden gates, and stepping through. The guard leaned over into the fortress to look at what had happened, and the temptation was too much for Sack. Another shove saw this guard off the parapet, to plunge down and splatter into the mud as Hildraft clambered through the gate. The noise created had alerted more of the troops occupying the fortress, however, and more and more orcs soon converged on the gateway, weapons readied. Within moments, Surya and Hildraft were hundreds deep in powerful orc warriors, bored and restless from being cooped up in the fortress with nothing to do and (worse) no-one to fight. The urge to attack was strong in their eyes, and it provoked a similar urge in Surya. His hands hovered over his twin hilts, twitching with the desire to wreak mayhem. There was a tense silence. Strife seemed inevitable. Suddenly, Sack leaped down from the wall, his rogue's acrobatic skills protecting him from injury. Then a burly orc in the slightly better made armour of a lieutenant pushed his way to the front, and confronted the pair. Blinking back the red haze, Surya growled, "We want to see your King." The orc looked unimpressed. "Why should you? Why should we not just kill you?" Hildraft readied his axe, quite prepared to explain, but Surya dug in his pack and held up a dagger, of skilled make though clearly orcish. Instantly, the orc officer spread his lumpen arms, gesturing his slavering horde backwards, and bowed respectfully. "Why did you not say who you were?" he asked. From the mud at his feet, a dazed voice responded, "We did ask, but they wouldn't say..." The officer dispersed the warriors, who grudgingly went away, muttering and grumbling about the loss of what looked to have been a good fight. Hildraft quietly placed a Light spell on the stunned guard's helmet, chuckling as he glowed his way through the noisome streets of the fortress. The orc officer assigned two fresh warriors to the gate, and gave orders for repairs to be started. He then led them up through the mighty maze of wooden palisades and earthworks towards Garkaur's citadel. As they walked, it struck them that, even in comparison with their last visit, there were enormous numbers of Orc warriors gathered in the fortress. The strain of being garrisoned, restrained, on these precipitate, bloodthirsty creatures, was obvious. Garkaur was holding court in his citadel as usual, and seemed pleased to see his visitors once more. Their escort knelt and reported the events at the gates in what passed for an undertone among orcs. The King of the Orcs dismissed him, and grinned at his guests. "You have a rather robust way of asking for entry," he commented dryly; "why didn't you just say who you were?" "We wanted to test your defences," Surya replied. Garkaur chuckled. "I shall review the main gate, then," he said, and dropped the matter. Calling for ale and food, Garkaur prepared to feast his guests, but Hildraft, remembering what Orc victuals were like - and that the enchanted cooking knives were with Hansen, over three hundred miles away - offered to provide instead. Garkaur agreed, and Hildraft worked the magic of the Heroes' Feast, bringing forth a great feast, including a magnificent table, chairs, service, and food and drink. The group, Garkaur and his senior generals set to at once, marvelling at the power of Kord. Garkaur was less surprised at the news of the boiling up of hostilities than they'd expected. He was aware of the attack of the Elf Hammer - though not of where it had orginated - and had accelerated his already considerable miliatary buildup in the light of the sudden toughening of Belamir's defences. He was roughly in agreement with Surya's objective of trying to head off a war, and said he'd be happy to help - though he seriously doubted either side woul listen to him. His ancestors had fared miserably at the hands of the Dragon, and he was unenthusiastic about aproaching his son. However, he proposed an "enemy of my enemy is my friend" approach; if Tarlanor, Orcland and Tellare found themselves at war with the Elves, any victory for one would be a victory for all. Looking around, it occurred to Sack that the intimidating shape of the shaman Thend was missing from the court of the King of the Orcs. He asked Garkaur about this, and was surprised at the respose. Angrily, the Orc king explained that the three shamen had left his service, surreptitiously and without asking leave, and had been last seen heading into the Erean Mountains to the east. This was around a month ago, and nothing had been heard from them since. The group accepted Garkaur's offer of overnight accomodation, and prepared to move on in the morning. (Tolk Fortress, Orcland, 28th August, 1601)The next morning, a heavily-armoured orc in the attire of a warg-rider met them as they emerged from the citadel. He greeted them warmly, and they recognized him as Hoshk, the patrol leader from the western borders promoted by Sack's summary slaying of his predecessor. His fortunes had continued to improve, and he was now commander of a large unit of wolf-riders. (Ruins of Dalbin, the Desolation, 28th August, 1601)Returning to the little camp in the ruins of Dalbin, the three checked that Hansen, Moonflame and their mounts were still safe, and then leaped southwards, aiming for the square surrounding the scene of their climactic battle in the Imperial Capital, the Vintares Gate. Which wasn't there. (Thornal, Erlyid Empire, 28th August, 1601)The centre of the square, peaceful in the late afternoon sun, was occupied by a small fountain, its' falling water tinkling and glittering in the sunshine. After looking approvingly at it, the three crossed the square to the palace, were admitted immediately by the Praetorian Guard, who recognized them straight away. The Imperial Chamberlain was also most courteous, but apologetic; the Emperor was out of the city, inspecting his troops, and would the noble lords care for accomodation until his return? No, the noble lords would not; could they have three good horses instead, and they'd got to the Emperor where he was... how far exactly? Half an hour later, the three swung out of the gates of Thornal, astride two mighty horses and a pony, escorted by an honour guard of thirty Praetorians. A muttered grumble from the dwarf trailed in their wake; "The best place for a horse is in your stomach!". Twenty miles outside the city the riders crested a rise, to see spread below them an awe-inspiring sight. Five full absutii [legions] were encamped in the valley beyond. Fortified in the usual fashion of an Imperial military camp, the vast expanse of ground was dotted with precise rows of tents, parade grounds, training areas, and supply dumps. Fifteen thousand of the best fighting troops in the world, prepared for war in a way Imperial troops had not been for over a thousand years. In the midst of all this was a large, ornate pavillion of scarlet silk, and it was to this that the travellers were escorted. Inside, the Emperor was bent over a map table, dressed in a karthaei's [general] armour and sword; it made him look younger and more vigorous. Greeting the newcomers, he at once queried them as to why they had visited, deducing immediately their probable links with events in the north. He made it clear that the buildup of Imperial forces was only a defensive measure; he had no intentions of getting involved in the "Northern Elf War" as he referred to it. "But we should!" came a new voice, and Imperial Crown Prince Crixus entered the tent, with Rolc in tow. The prince greeted the group very warmly, shaking each hand and smiling in welcome, before turning to his Imperial father. Crixus argued strongly for taking an interest; he clearly fancied being one of the warrior-emperors of old. He argued forcefully for taking command of four legions and marching to aid the elves. (At this point, Sack nearly choked on his goblet of wine. The elves?!) Heredatus showed the iron will that has made him what he was and told Crixus firmly that he would not do any such thing. "March to the aid of the elves?" he demanded sarcastically; "and what will you do when your allies attack your legions?" Crixus looked dumbstruck. "The elves regard orcs as vermin," continued the Emperor, "and our empire 'tainted' by our alliance with them. Every legion ready to march has at least an Exard [100] of Orc shock troops. The elves would never accept your 'help'." Crixus subsided. Changing the subject, Heredataus pressed the heroes to join him in watching his troops manouvre. Walking to the reviewing stand, the travellers were treated to the sight of the finest troops in the world marching, countermarching, breaking and making formations, and staging mock skirmishes and battles. "Aren't they magnificent?" crowed the Emperor, for all the world like a child with a row of tin soldiers. Back in the pavillion, Surya and Sack started talking to the Emperor. Carefully choosing their arguments, they warned him not to place too much trust in the elves - especially High King Doronond - and suggested that maybe, just maybe, the elves had been behind the vampire incursion of the early summer. Heredatus was outwardly skeptical, but Surya had chosen his insidious words with diabolical care, and he could see them eating into the Emperor's thoughts, making him think over all the high-handed treatment the Empire had receieved from the Elves in the past, up to the great break caused by the alliance with the orcs. He turned away, smiling grimly to himself. Sack made sure before he left to buttonhole young Rolc and spend a few minutes "talking" to him. The youngster was happy, and beiong treated well by Crixus, who had ended up taking him on himself as a page for a while before finding some noble to foster him through his maturity. Sack wished him well, and they parted. The three remounted their horses, and Sack and Surya reared and curvetted their mounts before racing out of the camp gates; Hildraft merely contented himself with remaining on, grumbling as he did so. Back at the city, the group visited the Library of Aderra, and investigated the likely whereabouts of the Redeemers in the Desolation. They were referred to the high priestess Nective herself, who - having established why they wanted to contact the Redeemers - gave them directions to the last known location of the Redeemers' current field team. Splinter cult or not, the Aderran passion for records and lore died hard, and the Redeemers filed regular reports with the Library. The last of these indicated that the current Field Team were encamped at the ruins of an elven manor house called Lómioldor [the House of Echoes]. An old map of Sildor gave its' location, though of course most landmarks on the map were now gone. Surya had been watching Sack rather carefully in the Library, after the unexplained fires during their last visit, and was quite startled when he saw the half-orc donate a healthy sum in gold to the Library for its' upkeep. (Ruins of Dalbin, the Desolation, 28th August, 1601)Gathering the bard and the paladin together, the group turned northwest and rode along the southern edge of the Desolation, then cut inwards and headed towards Lómioldor. (Lómioldor, the Desolation, 20th September, 1601)As they approached the ruins, the relentless ash of the Desolation began to alter. Slowly, starting with grass and then bushes and finally full-grown trees, vegetation began to appear. It was clearly struggling against the poisons in the earth, but the marvel was that it was here at all. Finally, half a mile from the location of Lómioldor, they found themselves in full-blown forest. As they approached the overgrown ruins, Sack felt his ranger's training resurfacing. His senses extended, he wasn't totally sure all was well. Two hundred yards out, Hildraft hailed the camp ahead in perfect elven; no response. The danger signs were all around. Sounds of movement came from the ruins - heavy movement, bigger creatures than the humans they were expecting. Then the same sounds started to come from the trees around; they were being flanked. Straining his eyes, and calling on the accuity of the Robe of Eyes, Surya caught a glimpse of movement from the ruins; an impression of.. fur, and feathers? The group drew their weapons, and halted. Sack sprang into a tree, halting on a bough 15' up to string his bow, and Surya doffed the Robe of Eyes. With a shattering bellow that blended a beast's roar with a bird of prey's scream, a wave of obscene-looking monsters bearing the unmistakable stamp of the curst charged out of the trees, converging on the heroes. |