Tharac Galbash's Story

An armored boot kicked over a fallen sign post. Beneath it was another dead body, but not the one the orc was looking for. The warlord, Tharac, took a moment to sit back and survey the damage state of the village. There were a few fires, broken in doors, ransacked houses, and dead bodies a plenty. He caught sight of two of his troop shoving silverware into a sack. A sneer and a growl was enough to get the both of them to drop their pilfered goods to the ground and fall back into line with the rest of the band. This is why he hated bringing young-lings out on a manhunt. Not yet disciplined enough to focus on an objective over looting petty trinkets.

Regardless he continued on his way, reaching a point where a human in chainmail was tied and bound and in the process of having the snot beaten out of him. Tharac stood amongst the crowd and watched for a moment, letting the goblins kick and slap the man where he knelled, before stepping in. "That's enough." The words alone were enough to make the majority of the assembled group disperse and allow the warlord passage. Kneeling down next to where the human now laid in the mud on his side, Tharac shoved him slightly to get a better look at the insignia on his chest. The image of a hawk with sword in its talons sat plainly, still visible even through the wear and muck.

"You fought well, for a human." He drawled and slowly shifted his gaze towards the mans beaten face. "I would give you a warriors death, if you would allow me by answering my questions." Grabbing the man by the collar of his armor, Tharac pulled the human back up to eye level. He held the man in his gaze, seeing the defeated yet still defiant look in his eyes. He would have respected his human, if he wasn't about to kill him. "Where are the other remnants of the War Hawks?" There was no answer. A moment passed and Tharac suddenly snarled and stood to full height, dragging the mercenary to his feet. "Where is he!?" He shouted.

The human coughed briefly once Tharac had stopped shaking him, then spoke. "If you're talking about Ossian, then I don't know. Last I saw him was when he went on leave from the band." He scowled at the orc. "You bastards already tried to wipe us out before he came back."

Tharac squinted his eyes at the mercenary. Eventually he sighed and threw the man back to the ground, then signaled one of the soldiers nearby to draw his sword. Tharac then stalked off as they ended the man where he lay.

It was another bust. And without any new leads this time. Disappointing, but Tharac wasn't one to let set backs keep him down. Still he had one last piece of business before he and his troops left this place. He approached a barn where the last of the frightened towns were being rounded up and herded into. Some were holding on to loved ones, others struggling against armored hand and getting smacked for their trouble. Tharac regarded them all, and spat upon the ground.

"You people, are hereby charged with treason, under the crime of harboring a fugitive from our lord. What say you in your defense?" it was for show really. They knew that. Tharac knew that. There was only one way this could end.

"Please, were just a simple farming village." Someone begged. "You can't do this."

"I don't see anything stopping me." Tharac flicked his eyes up towards where the other orcs were poring oil onto the barn roof. They caught the signal and began to climb down. "The Gods will punish you for this!" Someone else screamed. "You and all of your misbegotten kind!" Tharac snarled and barked at the troops to close and bar the doors. There was panicked shouts from the villagers as the bolts sealed them in.

"Your Gods had already forsaken us long ago." Tharac grabbed a torch from on of his lieutenants. "This is what they've wrought for it." He then threw it upon the roof, catching the oil alight and sending the barn ablaze.

He and the band under his command watched the fire spread and heard the screaming inside intensify. Then Tharac turned back to his troops. "Alright. Grab what food you can carry and move out. I want to link back up with the scouts and hear from the other bands by morning. Were gonna find this whoreson even if we have turn over every tree and rock in this hell-spawned country." Barks of a salute came in acknowledgement, and without another word the gathered horde marched off, leaving the townspeople to their fates.

The intermingling smells of blood and flowery perfume filled the air. Dozens of flickering candles dimly lit the room, casting shadows that danced across the four walls. In the middle of the room, Hel stood in front of a cold slab of marble, sorting through the organs of a fresh corpse. He had only been completely dead for two minutes if Hel was correct. She had been picking through his body for about five.

She looked at his face with slight pity. He had been a pretty man. Fit, young, and strong. He had been a prince or knight of some kingdom before Hel's coven lured him to the Red Palace to become part of an archaic divination ritual. Apparently, he had little tolerance for pain as he had screamed louder than anyone who had ever previously had the misfortune of being Hel's sacrifice. She chuckled darkly as she plucked out his crystal blue eyes and placed them in a golden bowl next to another containing his heart and liver. She had no idea that a man's voice could reach that pitch.

The witch opened his mouth and placed her blade, Alecto, in it with the other hand, swiftly cutting out his tongue. She grinned. Hel considered the tongue a delicacy, especially when it came from a charismatic man. All good leaders at least held some power within their tongue and Hel always had to resist the temptation to nibble on it before it was cooked. She placed it in a bowl with the eyes. She moved down to his flayed abdomen and took a deep breath. "Mother Mal," she called. "I offer you this life in exchange for your guidance."

This is why she needed this man in the first place. The Dark Lord was becoming anxious about the descendent of Miernes and Hel sought answers from her patroness. She reached into the corpse and closely examined his entrails. She pondered them, her golden eyes flickering with interest. "Jezebel!" She called, dropping the innards within her grip and walking away from the tablet. "Grab my broom for me and prepare a party to depart for the Dark Lord's palace. Mal has answered my request."

Within the hour, Hel entered Halls of Halleoth along with a small group of her coven, a sly grin on her face as she saw her master. "Hello Darling!" She greeted dramatically. Her girls walked behind her in their human forms, all appearing as charming and beautiful creatures. She disregarded the others in the room, as all of them, besides Fathom and the Dark Lord himself, did not matter to her. She smiled at Fathom, though he confused her greatly. "I bring the word of Mother Mal, my lord." She kneeled before his thrown, as her girls did behind her.

"Firstly, I'd like to relay that Tharac has yet again failed at capturing the descendent of Miernes." Though it seemed impossible, Hel's grin seemed to widen. There was a bit of rivalry among the commanders of the Dark Lord's army. There was a underlying respect between them, but that was overshadowed by their desire to prove themselves superior. "The boy sensed the danger and fled before the orc had a chance to grab him." She shook her head. "As your advisor, I believe that the wisest move would to dispatch more forces to look for the boy as the entrails indicated that he could become a very large thorn in your side."

Though she smiled pleasantly, a primal growl rumbled at the back of Hel's throat when Fathom denounced her magic and pulled out a pair of eyes from his pocket. She stood up and narrowed her eyes at Fathom, still wearing a thin smile on her lips. "My magic is many things, but fruitless is not one of them." Her eyes flickered. "And it's only barbaric when necessary." She took several steps towards him, almost in a challenging manner.

"You have my permission to keep the eyes, Darling. Perhaps they'll help you gain some true insight into the future of this world." Her voice was sickeningly sweet and dripping with sarcasm. "Blue eyes aren't very hard to come by anyways. Not like white eyes." She wondered what his innards would have to tell. No doubt they'd be full of information on various worlds and dimensions. However, if they were anything like their owner, they'd just spout useless and obvious possibilities without any real advice.

When the Dark Lord spoke, Hel turned her attention completely onto him. She was disappointed that he wasn't going to send more men, but she was slightly horrified at the suggestion of creating an elite team with both Hel and Fathom as members. She had no idea how long she could tolerate the mad man without turning him into stew. But she didn't let that show.

"My Lord," she began. "Tharac was nearly successful. Perhaps Fathom and I, along with others of your choosing, should join him to make sure that things run smoothly." She looked at Fathom through the corner of her eyes. "My 'fruitless' ritual allowed me to see that." She looked back to the lord. "I'd be more than willing to help my fellow commander on his mission."

Hel held her smile, though she was less than ecstatic about having to spend more time than necessary with Fathom, who was increasingly annoying her. Sacrificial divination was the least effective? Not a single one of her predictions had been wrong during her time as an advisor to the Dark Lord or as a servant of Mother Mal. And even Hel had to admit that Tharac, as savage as he could be, was far more cunning than others gave him credit for. It took more than brute strength and a knack for destruction to get to the rank he had risen too.

But, regardless of her feelings, she bowed to her lord. "As you wish, my Lord. I'll return to the Red Palace and put together a party of my best before departing for the Orc's forces." She stood as the messenger came in, relaying news of the Lich King. Hel raised an eyebrow. "My Lord, what are your plans of negotiating with the Lich King?" Her voice was filled with sincere concern, though she didn't intend for it to sound as feeble as it did. She swallowed, composing herself. "The Lich King is unlike the other monarchs you've faced. I'm not questioning your strength or wisdom, but-" Her voice drifted off. "I simply wish for you to be careful. He's a crafty creature, my Lord."
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Belladonna smiled at the Lich King, laughing softly as he recounted the last time they had spoken. "Yes, I suppose you did use this same trick, didn't you?" She listened intently to his words, taking a small sigh of relief when he said that their kingdoms would fight together should the Dark Lord attack either of them. That certainly put her mind at ease.

The Witch Mother sat up straight and pushed a strand of her fair blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm glad your land is faring so well. Those goblins must have been nasty to deal with at first. I remember several centuries back when the little buggers invaded the Black Forest. Killed a good number of my people before we drove them out." She looked out of the carriage window, seeing nothing but the screen of white fog she had summoned. "Things in the North are well. We've had successful crops, healthy babes being born, and the Forest itself is stronger than ever." Belladonna's hand went to her crown, which connected her to her land. She could feel the pulse of every creature, the growth of every plant, and the vibrations of the magic within it's borders.

"Oh yes," Belladonna began. "Tensions are high between my subjects and your elves, but nothing extremely out of hand has happened. A couple of scuffles here and there along the border, but they're usually quick and there's been no casualties." The Witch Queen chuckled. "Some of them have discovered that hags may appear like fragile flowers at first, but we're forces to be reckoned with." She toyed with the gold chain around her neck as she looked to the Lich King.

"It gives me great relief that my kingdom is still not alone in the shadow of the Dark Lord's army. Our numbers are growing, but we're still not strong enough to stand a chance against a force such as his by ourselves." Belladonna's hand went to her bosom, right over her heart. "As a ruler, I hope you can understand my concern. It's comforting to have an ally like the Bywnans Boragweyth." She glanced coolly into Anvarwel's eyes. "The Black Forest will support any decision you make." She paused, thinking about the piece of 'juicy information' that he had. "I'm curious, old friend, what is this knowledge you possess?" She leaned forward. "Perhaps we can make an exchange of knowledge? I've caught wind of a certain item that the Lord is looking for. Well, not exactly an item and more of a person, but I digress."

It had been several hours since Tharac and his company had raided the village. They were now set down again miles away, having moved a bit closer to the borders. Tharac himself was now seated in his tent, pouring over a map of the region. He had tracked the movements of the human mercenary headed in this direction, and even if he'd lost the trail that still didn't mean he couldn't flush him out. That was the reason why he had burned out the village in the first place, to make sure the boy knew he was coming.

Now another person would likely balk at such an action, Tharac had his reasons. Despite what everyone would claim of him, and his people in general, Tharac was not just a dull witted brute. He was cunning, and every bit of his actions, no matter how violent or brutal had an underlining method to the madness. This particular ploy was a simple hunters ploy. The 'prey', the boy, already knew he was being hunted and was trying to hide from him. If he sensed that the 'hunter', Tharac, was closing in on his hiding place he would then likely try to bolt for the nearest location of safety. In this case, judging from the heading he had reportedly been taking, that place of safety would likely be across the border towards the elven lands.

And that would be where the second 'hunter' would be waiting. Already Tharac had sent scouts to ride fast towards the borderlines, with the mercenary's descriptions and orders to any available troops to keep watch and apprehend him on sight. He had even sent a few to the drow, requesting their assistance. Though he had to embroider and repeat the words alive and unharmed more than once in that letter.

All and all, it was a sound and sturdy plan. Unless the boy had someone capable of smuggling him across the border, the would be little to save him from being captured in an ambush and be brought before the master within a week.

The ash of a once proud Elven city hung heavy upon the air as the frenzied activity of troops going about the business of setting up a fortified camp. The sound of chanting competed with the cries of Overseers as they whipped their slave gangs into motion. And the falling of trees and creating of Earthen walls contributing to a general cacophony familiar to any General.

In the heart of the camp underneath a sturdy canvas pavilion rested a wide and improvised table. Upon it's surface rested a parchment map outlining estimated enemy positions updated from the reports of the constant flow of scouts in and out of the camp None of it was helping the mood of either Vesznar or Solana as they leaned over the map studying it intently.

" We simply don't have enough to go on Matron, we got lucky here catching them with their pants down. We don't have enough spare troops to maintain numerical superior around this camp and launch another attack into the Forest. We're just going to have to wait for The Matriarch to bring up the main bulk of the army." Vesznar argued with as much patience as he could muster. The Eldrich Knight was trying for a conciliatory tone but was aware he was most likely coming across as condescending. His left hand was busy arranging the pins on the map while his right indicated the camp itself.

"The Matriarch is coming to replace us you know." Was the limit of the High Priestress rebuttal as she amused herself with solving a puzzle cube using telekinesis, the map beginning to bore her as the obvious was already known.

" By Loth's sweet rump I'd thought you be happy to see the back of this place Matron."

" Of course my dear Vesznar but I would rather have the Matriarch at arms distance then here watching us with undivided attention. " Solana replied with a laugh as the cube she was working on slid into its finished shape. The clash of arms indicated a changing of sentries even as the cries of acknowledgment made it clear.

"Of course...T'would be rather annoying to have that would be Queen right up the old backside. "

The Psionic Matron smiled once more as the dream of being Queen herself flashed through her mind. But before Solana could reply a sentry strode into the impromptu War Room. Accompanying the Sentry was a scruffy looking man puffed up with false courage.

" State your business here Human before I feed you to a Drider. " She spoke in the tone one reserved for one's inferior.

" I am here on behalf of my commander Tharac..." The messenger didn't have time to finish his reason as the High Priestress cut him off.

" Yes the uglier every time I see him Orc. What does the pig snout fool want that is worth you wasting my time."

" He gave me a letter outlining the details. " The messenger replied with a slight bit of heat not caring for being cut off by a Woman.

Taking the bit of paper Solana studied it in silence for a few moments. The Orc was really taking his vow to the Dark Lord seriously, something she'd never understand. One boy especially a useless human could not change the world.But crossing the Dark Lord held little appeal. And so she was all but duty bound to aid an Orc.

"Vesznar take five companies and link up with the Orc and see what he wants." The Psionic Matron ordered the father of her children. " Oh and make sure to teach the louse ridden whoreson bastard the next time he tries to send such a condescending missive I'll cut off his genitals and feed them to a hobgoblin. "

" It'd be my pleasure Matron." Vesznar answered with a deep formal bow and a grin of delight upon his face.

Vesznar then gathered up a mixed grouping of fast scouts and battle mages from the troops assigned as reserve support. Though he'd only be taking five companies or about a thousand troops the Eldrich Knight still did not like stripping the Camp's defensive support. Especially for some wild goose hunt lead by in his opinion a filthy orc.

The Patron of House Valiner knew though that this wild goose chase was ordered by the Dark Lord himself. While he respected any male that could order a Matron mother around Vesznar did not care for a human above him nor an Orc all but ordering the actions a Drow could take. In the Underdark Orcs were nothing but slaves,often used as fodder to exhaust enemy strength.

Still with the rapid pace a Drow force could maintain the march to Tharac's position would not be a long one. And so once the orders of Solana were relayed and the five companies were on the move the Eldrich Knight let his mind fall into the waking dreams that were elven sleep. Even as he marched alongside his small band of a thousand his mind and spirit found rest.