At the camp, the orcs took a well deserved rest. Most of the men went to sleep or to nurse their wounds, with their wives and other women folk assisting them. But for Malakaus and a few others, their work had just started. The orc tribes of this area had a specialty that Malakaus purposely sought them out for, and it wasn't for their scouting or swordsmanship; it was their proficiency with smithing. A rare talent for people who dwell in swamps, but they often harvested iron from the bogs and occasional vein hidden within the murky depths, and their ability to work with such crude metals and turn them into effective weapons is something that Malakaus wanted from them. Their issue had always been gaining access to higher quality metal, but now that isn't an issue thanks to the battlefield plunder. The men, including Malakaus, quickly got to work constructing field forges to smelt the metal into ingots, stripping wood and leather from the weapons and armor to save for later. The siege weapons they took had also been broken down to their base components so that they could be repurposed at a later date, either as siege weapons once more or something else entirely.

Malakaus of course couldn't stay up for long. As much as he wanted to continue working his mother soon pulled him away in order to get his wounds tended to. He tried to hide it but his mother knew how hurt he was, so he had to rest that night. Fortunately by the time morning came, his camp was abuzz with activity. Any steel that wasn't claimed as a trophy was being smelted down into ingots so they could later be proceeded into more orcish weaponry. The men went on their patrols to ensure their camp was safe, while the chiefs and commanders went back to their clan to report of their success. With the two clans under Malakaus's loyalty, he had a more reliable army than just his own clan. Which of course he still needed to deal with as well; right now he was acting as the impromptu warlord, and without the chief's backing Malakaus wasn't sure how long he could continue his campaign. But once he finishes his talks with Maren, Malakaus knew he could return and make a solid claim for himself. "Ah politics. A more dangerous battlefield than war to be sure." The half-orc grumbled as he went to get himself something to eat.

Meanwhile Malakaus's messenger was still within the city. He had rested outside for a while before entering the city at first dawn. Wasn't long before the guards approached him but he did not falter. He remained polite but firm in his singular request: He needed to see Maren Trevoste and deliver his message to her directly. He would not divulge the information to anyone else. Most of the guards were wary; they knew the orcs had helped them, but for what reason they didn't know, and the messenger certainly wasn't telling. The only thing they could do was escort the lone warrior towards the temple where he could wait for Maren to find him. Even so they didn't let him go alone, with at least four guards escorting him along the way. However compared to the warrior they were scrawny and scared; the orc himself wore tough looking armor and had an axe and a sword on his belt, brutish yet effective in it's design. Soon they approached the temple and before the soldiers could go the orc spoke up loudly.

"Where is Maren Trevoste? I have a message for her from my warlord. It is an urgent message for her safety and everyone else's."

@Haeo@Ladypug

Dmitri had picked the wrong week to come to Tamberle. As he lumbered throughout the city, signs of attack were everywhere. Dead bodies, battles, and...Chemjir above, was that shit? Dmitri wrinkled his nose underneath his helmet. As he continued to move aimlessly, Dmitri began to realize he should have taken the fur out of the armor. He could only hope that this city would be better than the others. Most of his visits ended with him being chased out by an angry mob. It seemed as if the reputation of Praeleans had been sullied by criminals who had, trying to escape persecution, trickled into this land. Fortunately, Dmitri could right their wrongs. By way of execution.

It was vital that Dmitri did not fail his task, and right now, that meant finding someone who could take him in. Up ahead seemed to be a Cathedral of sorts. Dmitri noticed two men by the stairs. He wasn't blind to his imposing appearance and tall stature, so he called out. "Hello. Over there?" His accent was heavy and he worried that it would obscure his words. He pressed on anyhow. "I do not want to hurt you. I wish to propose offer. I can fight well. In my homeland, I am great warrior. I can serve well as bodyguard or knight. However, I can see this is time of need. So I make my offer. I can help you with the invaders if you allow me job. Sounds good, yes?"

Mentions: @YeetMeister @Haeo

---

Cassius looks up from the stairs at his feet when he hears the thick accented voice calling his way, but then his gaze is drawn to the bloodied, haggard-looking man sitting against a crate. Whatever fears he was wrapping his own mind up with fade as he stands up - he's not going to just sit and stew in his own thoughts as a man possibly dies just a few steps away.

"I do not want to hurt you," the thick-accented man says as Cassius rises, "I wish to propose offer. I can fight well. In my homeland, I am great warrior. I can serve well as bodyguard or knight. However, I can see this is time of need. So I make my offer. I can help you with the invaders if you allow me job. Sounds good, yes?"

The captain walks closer, but he's walking more towards the possibly injured young man than the one in armor. He wordlessly offers a friendly hand up to the bloodied man

Heavy breaths, pounding heartbeats, restless legs, a hard thing pressed against a back. A small box clutched to a breast. Tears -no sobbing-, no moving, nothing.

This is how a night of battle was spent by a young student who has never seen death.

Shaking hands fiddled with the clasp on the box. It opened. Practiced hands unstoppered a small vial, ready to assemble a recipe that has been mixed hundreds of times. Clearoil, sulfur, flashrock, and a pinch of salt.
The vial heats up as a small flame grows inside, illuminating the small crawlspace between her room and her master's room. The box was a dull red and small, about the size of her chest. The flame grew brighter.
It was a simple recipe, which was why it was the first she learned. Muddling the ratios only caused it to burn more quickly, or not at all. That's why she'd been able to do it in the dark.

She took a moment to listen. Perhaps she should've done this before mixing a lamp? Oh well, too late now, she thought. You couldn't put this fire out. Or, rather, you shouldn't. Stoppering the vial would cause it to explode rather than suffocating it.
She heard nothing, so she opened the crawlspace on her side, and crawled out, reaching back in for the box and the lamp.

The study was surprisingly neat, by the standards of a besieged city. One of the advantages of being rather difficult to find. It was where she spent most of her time, either learning or sleeping at the desk. More than one book had been nearly ruined by drool.
The only thing that was out of place was a small note perched lightly on the open pages of the book she was currently studying. It was marked with her Master's seal.
It came to her attention that her whole body was shaking now. She nearly dropped the lamp. In a hurry, she sat at the desk, forgoing placing the lamp in its right place, and instead using it to melt the wax of the seal, as her Master had taught her. No sense in wasting good wax. She opened it, smoothing it out on the desk with her paperweights. She had to, her hands were shaking so much that she couldn't read it if she held it.



She folded the note neatly, attempting to compose herself, but she had so many questions and not enough answers. Why didn't he at least say goodbye? Where is he? Orders? From who?

Is he dead?

A raw and shrill scream cut through the morning air. The first sound she had made in hours.

"Help! Please someone help! Please oh please, what's happening? Heeeeelp!"

As the messenger awaited audience with Maren, Malakaus and his orcs were hard at work. They had set field smelters to melt the unused equipment into ingots, which they’ll transport back to their tribal homes once the job is complete. Many of the warriors returned home aside from Malakaus’s own riders and a few men who volunteered to join his warband. They were excited for future battles, wishing to bring home wealth and prestige against the humans. Though this was a good attitude to gather forces, Malakaus knew he would need to curtail this one sided hatred.

Unlike previous orc warlords, plunder and conquest was not Malakaus’s only desires. He was not gathering an army to steal from the humans. He wanted to retake the lands of his people and ideally create a proper civilization for the orcs, one that can work with their neighbors instead of being constantly at war. Though even this was a naive thought. Malakaus would know it well; he he saw how peace had broken his people.

---

The Black Star Mountain. A large mountain range consisting of at least seventeen peaks to the north, protecting the kingdom of Elrad from northern invaders. While the mountains were not controlled by the kingdom, they had brokered a peace deal with the indigenous mountain people who lived there, the orcs. In eras passed the mountains were a hotly contested area fought for by humans and orcs for many years, and this peace treaty was the first of its kind. Created when King Aeryn was on the throne, it brought a new age of prosperity to the orcs.

The orcs have always been a transient people. Even when they weren’t warring with the humans they competed with each other for natural resources like game, foragable food, and water. And that’s if they weren’t fighting for personal reasons such as honor or revenge, or engaged in wife raids. It wasn’t until one clan, the Clan Blodskal, was able to use multiple victories to form a large coalition of clans to create the first tribe, the Red Fist Tribe. Amassed as a large horde he subjected various clans as well as the humans who lived nearby, forcing former enemies into uneasy allies in order to bring a stop to his reign. It was through this unconventional alliance that the humans allowed the orcs to settle into the Black Star Mountains, in order to give them a home where they could grow their own food, raise their own beasts, and no longer need to fight one another. Sure initially the mountains were inhospitable and full of dangerous predators, so treacherous not even the bravest explorers would risk climbing through it, but for the orcs they saw it as a chance to challenge a cruel fate and make something great. And great it was.

The Black Star Mountain was rich in mineral goods, like coal, iron, and precious gemstones. The mountain also grew the indomitable Blackwood trees, hardy wood as tough as steel. The various clans pooled and shared their talents together to spread the knowledge of animal raising and husbandry, medicine and alchemy, smithing and carpentry. Within ten years the five tribes of the Black Star Mountains were able to form a civilization. But just as quickly as they started they began to fall. They grew complacent with peace and despite the discoveries they did not make any improvements. They never bothered to grow stronger. All they did was eat, stockpile basic weapons and armor, and indulged in the comforts that could be bought with gold. So it was no surprise that when the humans marched their armies to the Black Star mountains after a series of disaster, the orc’s new home was gone.

That brutal year was known as the Four Curses. The first curse was a plague that sickened the orcs in charge of the forge. A disease known as Black Lung infected many who worked with iron and flames, even affecting family and friends who don’t work the forge. They grew weak, had trouble breathing, and many suffered for days before ending their own misery. The next curse was famine. With many orcs too sick to care for the fields or animals food became sparse. The indulgence of the chiefs and upper class didn’t stop however, as soon the lower class orcs began to starve out and die, resorting to desperate measures to survive.

This created the third curse: Betrayal. The once united orcs were divided as the poor warred against the rich, the indulgent were attacked by the moderates, and where even families were torn apart literally and metaphorically in order to just fill their own stomachs. The greatest of the betrayals, that the King of the Black Star Mountains, sold out his own people for human gold, brought the final curse that destroyed the orcish lands: Conquest. The Kingdom of Elrad sent soldiers and knights to annex the Black Star Mountains, killing or capturing orcs who tried to fight back. Weakened by the previous curses and armed with crude weapons that could not break the properly crafted manmade steel, the humans took the mountains with little to no difficulty, a pitiful effort by the once warlike orcs.

Malakaus was a child when he saw all of this happened. He remembered his stepfather poisoning himself with alcohol to numb the pain from the Black Lung. Malakaus remembered joining the fight pits at the tender age of seven to earn money to feed his family. The memories of how Malakaus went from fighting in arenas to the streets as he joined a gang to raid houses and strongholds for food, and only to find books. Instead of turning them into kindling, it created a flame in his heart as his homelands were burned by the fires of war. Though this experience Malakaus learned the follies of the previous chiefs, warlords, and kings, and aimed to change. That’s why when the Orc King Yamarik Jawk tried to flee with his treasures, Malakaus personally made sure to melt his precious gold into slag and brought the king to be lynched by his own people. There was no nation for the orcs under such a selfish lord. Malakaus didn’t care to try and keep the orcs together if it meant perpetuating the lazy and corrupt. He was going to create his own kingdom from the ground up.

And so began Malakaus’s ambition.

---

Malakaus finished his new axe. It’s Blade had more mass which meant greater heft was needed, heft that Malakaus could easily give thanks to his sheer strength. For a mortal man such a weapon would be considered a greataxe and need two hands, but Malakaus could swing it with one. It even had a trick, though Malakaus would save that for later. For now he wrapped the handle to have a better grip as he started working on his new armor.

”I wonder if Maren has heard my message yet.”

The sky was just starting to lighten as the sun prepared for its ascent in the sky. The gentle strings of a mandolin was the only sound, its beautiful melody filling the forest air and breaking the usual quiet that surrounds this time-frame, accompanied by a sweet voice humming along.

The song continued on for a good few minutes still before the player brought it to an end, carefully placing the beautiful instrument down next to her and standing up and stretching out her limbs. Seeing her movement, an impatient neighing was soon directed at her, causing a smile to spread over her lips as she started tending to the impatient horse. The pale skin of her hands in a sharp contrast to the horse's pitch black body, not unlike the half-elf's own raven locks.

"Okay, Ava, okay, I'm getting you an apple right now, relax."

Only a person with a heart made out of stone could resist smiling at the animal's clear joy at the prospect of getting a treat and the girl wasn't one of them. Her emerald eyes twinkling with mirth as her companion basically inhaled the unsuspecting fruit.

The horse's needs met, her attention turned to her small campsite. Packing up her supplies and clearing up after herself was a quick process, a lot of experience speeding things up significantly and soon she was on the back of her horse, riding towards her destination. The city of Tamberle.

If her information is correct, her highness, Lady Maren, had been heading in that direction, hopefully she'll be able to get there before her highness moves on. If not, she'll try to pick up the trail again.

Elithiana had never been known to give up, after all. A trait that she most certainly received from the human side of her parentage, especially considering who her uncle is.

A smirk crossed her face at the thought of that grizzled old war veteran and she urged her beautiful steed to go faster. She knows that he would approve of what she's trying to do, even if her mother might not be as pleased at the prospect. After-all, in her words, a lady has no place on the battlefield...she'll understand, though...eventually...and even if she doesn't...El can't just sit back and watch blood be spilled and innocents suffer under the 'king' Mago's rule anymore! She has to do something to help!

Which is why she is currently seeking out her highness, to offer her services willingly and freely. She might not be able to do anything significant, but as long as she's helping in any way, shape or form, she'll be satisfied.

---

Several hours had passed since she set out that morning and she finally had her destination in sight, though with the sight in front of her, Elithiana almost wished that she didn't.

The remnants of a battle lay all around her as she rode through towards the city gate, it caused a sick feeling to well up inside her and she tried not to focus on the bodies.

It wasn't hard to guess what had happened here, obviously the city was attacked, and luckily it seemed as if it had survived...though, at what cost she dreaded finding out.

Entering the gate, she dismounted and walked over to a nearby town guard. It wasn't necessary to ask what happened, or how bad the battle affected this town, his tired and wary eyes, his obvious injuries and the condition of the city answered that easily enough, so she jumped straight to business.

"What can I do to help?"

Hark and his war party arrived at noon to the Fire-fens as the sun was at its hightes. They picked a spot on the far end of a hill so they could easily watch the village while not being being spotted by the guards walking the wall. Luckily for them the area they chose for their camp was in the shade of a few skinny swamp trees and surrounded by small shrubbery. While it wouldn’t do much as a barrier if they were attacked it at least gave them slight cover from the eyes of people who were entering the town from the main road.

“Listen carefully, once the camp is finished I’m going to take Eric, Raz and Stormer into the city to see if our target is still even alive. It’s not likely considering the visible damage of the city but never the less we have to make sure.” Hark said as the men settled in and the horses were tied then he motioned to his second in command, “Ragger will be in command while I’m gone. Remember to be ready for the signal to advance on the city if given.”

Hark left the men to finish preparing their new home for the next however long and he climbed up the hill and layer down at the crest to observe the town. He could see smoke billows and broken walls and men carrying off the dead to be buried. Only four tower guards were visible from where he was positioned. As he observed the town Ragger came up and crouched next to him, “Well I’ll be damned we could take this town ourselves.” Hark agreed seeing the town in its current state however the mission given to him by Bernard was clear to observe and not mount a frontal assault.

“I wish we could I’ve been missing the excitement of a real battle.” Hark said as he stood up to make his way down the hill. On the way to the town they had killed a group of merchants that were carrying enough barrels of ale to make a whole city tops. Hark planned to use this as a cover to enter the town and he hoped it wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion. Hark and the three men he chose to enter the town with him traded their current clothes for the clothes of the merchants they killed and put them in the wodden crate on the back of the wagon. Hark and his group exchanged handshakes and words of farewell before climbing onto the wagon and pulling out of the camp onto the main road.

As they approached the town Hark slowly reached up and let out a sigh and removed his mask breaking the ancient tradition of the Frostbourn. He heard a small gasp escape Stormer before he questions Hark’s motives, “What are you doing? That’s a sacred tradition!” Hark shook his head, “That May be true but this mission is more important. Anyone who hasn’t been living under a rock could recognize us if I kept this mask on.” Hark places the mask in his satchel. And stared at the crumbling gates as they aproched.

“Sir do you really think we could pass off as merchants from a brewery? Even without our armor and weapons we don’t play the part too well.” Hark turned and looked as his troop. Eric was right looking their muscular figures, scars and rough faces merchants wasn’t the first thought that came to mind. “Well Eric you are correct however we’ll just have to hope for the best now I guess.

The group entered the gates and Hark was shocked at the sight of the battle torn town. The town looked ten times worse on the inside than it did on the outside: the streets were littered with bodies and ran red with blood. The group passed a young half-elf who was asking a beat up guard if she could help and headed deeper in the town where they at last spotted a revern where they could stay while scouting the city for Lady Maren.

Skurr stares at Cassius’s hand for a long moment before recognizing what it means and reaching up to grasp it. His grip is firm, though his hand seems to tremble. Cassius pulls Skurr up, helping him up from the ground where he sat. The captain offers an attempted smile of reassurance, but it looks and feels more like a forced smile or a grimace. “Rough morning, huh?” The captain’s tone is curt, to the point.

Skurr doesn’t respond for another long moment while he reaches down and picks up his spear, wiping a little of the mess off of the unusual weapon as he does. “... Yes.” The fisherman answers, leaving the air heavy with the weight of what he doesn’t say as his gaze shifts from the man he had tried to help to the newcomer who seems to lack the ability to speak quietly.

Meanwhile, the towering Praelean seems surprised that someone had ignored him. “Excuse me?” he said as he walks over, armor clanking. Cassius’s head turned to him, and he then observes the sword-spear on his back with a mild curiosity - you don’t see that every day. Axes, halberds, warhammers even, sure, but a sword-spear? It’s an oddity, at least for around here.

“As I was saying,” the heavily-armored individual continued, “I see that you have lost men during this battle.” The Praelean pulls his spear from his back holster, and Cassius’s hand had gone to his dagger for just a moment until his rational mind kicked in and realized there was no threat - he was merely showing off his weapon. Cassius cooly pretends he was merely scratching an itch on his side.

“I have a unique set of skill. I know reputation of my nation may have been tainted by the usual visitors you receive. They are criminals. I however, am holy knight of my nation. I have been sent to deliver retribution to such criminals. I will show them the flaming glo-”

“Alright,” Cassius interjects swiftly, raising a hand to silence him. “Alright. We don’t need to hear the rest of your speech.. and we don’t need fighters as of this minute.” He pauses, thinking for a moment. “We could use someone to help the citizens who may be wounded or trapped, though. My men are currently resting, healing, or I would have sent for them to do it.”

The Praelean removes his helmet, gazing down and spending an odd amount of time making eye contact with Cassius. The captain doesn’t avert his gaze, though, even if it is uncomfortable - since he was a child, he’s been told that if you look away when someone looks you in the eye, it means you’re of the unsavory sort, be it a liar or a thief or any other sort of bad or evil. After the long few seconds, however, the Praelean seems satisfied. “You are good man.” The Praelean reached out his hand. “I am Dmitri, knight of Order of Chemjir.”

Cassius takes Dmitri’s hand, mentally shaking the discomfort off his shoulders. “And I, Cassius, a captain of Walcher’s Knights.” He ends that sentence like he’s thinking of adding some other title but... No. No, this stranger can’t know he’s the bodyguard of Lady Maren. Not yet, at least. Not until Dmitri’s proven himself as trustworthy, anyway. He shakes Dmitri’s hand firmly, then lets go with a nod.

Dmitri grinned from ear to ear. “And who is the other?”

“Skurr Nippled-Bottom… Fisherman.” Skurr answers softly, straightening his posture and nodding before taking a few steps past the two men. The lack of company stops him and he turns to look at them, a vague question in his eyes. “Ready for work?” Whether he was referring to the same thing that they had been discussing could be guessed at endlessly.

Dmitri nodded sagely. “The people need us!” he pulls on his helm, then performing a salute in which he touches his clenched fist to his chest. “I cannot wait to serve under you, Captain Cassius.” Dmitri says, his voice slightly muffled from the helm. Cassius nods slowly, looking back to the chapel as the two walk away together.

While the captain was sure that Lady Maren would be safe within those walls, his stomach turned in knots. Why it did so so violently, he didn’t know. Despite his inclination to stay and uphold his duty to Maren, he followed the eager Praelean and the fisherman. It wouldn’t be but an hour, at most. Even if it did take longer, Cassius would leave the two and return to Maren... and have to apologize for such an absence, if he didn’t want to lose his position altogether.

It didn’t take but maybe ten or so minutes of walking before they heard a shrill scream, rushing through the alleyway they were currently in. The trio shot each other a look before breaking into a brisk run in the direction of said scream. Cassius glances back over his shoulder and is pleasantly surprised that, despite that heavy armor, Dmitri is able to keep up.

In no time, they arrived at a door set into a stone arch. Several bridges, alleys, and a ladder lay behind them, small wonder no raiders had made it here. Over the doorway hung a painted wooden sign of a small cross with steam rising around it, the symbol of an alchemist. The screaming had stopped, unsteady, gut-wrenching sobs taking that place.

Cassius took to the front of the trio, turning the handle of the door only to find it locked. He turns it again just to be sure it wasn’t simply sticking, or purposefully difficult to open, before he knocks on the door loudly. “Hello?”

---

---

Monika

She hit the desk, note crumpled in her hand. Enough. Screaming about this could only be so helpful. Instead, she forced herself to shut up, and got to finding the books that Georges had told her to find.

She had collected three when she heard a knock at the door. “Nonono, don't open the door, wait a mo-” she dropped her books, causing a short sob to erupt, “wait just a moment!” she called, hurriedly stacking the dropped books in a pile. She stands, and walks to the window just above the doorway, which had been angled so cleverly to allow one to see visitors.

Warriors. Whose? She didn't know and didn't care to find out without some form of defense. Oil of Vitriol. One vial, placed carefully in her pocket.

She opened the door with an attempt of a smile, but her eyes were puffy, and she still felt horrible. She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything to say.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” asks the soldier in front of the other two, “Are you Injured?”

“I… I don't know. No, no injuries,” she responds, “I just… I don't know what's going on. Who are you three?”

“I am Cassius,” says the front soldier, “this is Dmitri,” he gestures to his left, and the soldier there took off his helmet, smiling gently, “and this is Skurr,” to his right, “We..” the way he pauses and the amount of time it takes for him to speak again, while short, makes her uneasy. “We’re walking around the city, helping whoever is in need get back on their feet after the attempted raid. We heard a scream, we thought something was wrong.”

She looks down. She had hoped people would come to her aid, but was entirely unsure what to do once they had. “Thank you… yes, it's all okay, just…” she let out a sob, “just nothing,”, she said, hesitantly. She didn't yet know who these people followed, and that could mean death.

Cassius went to take a step back, but he doesn’t walk away. He cups his face with one hand and has a look of deep and concerned thought on his face, standing there in silence for a long, uncomfortable few seconds before he speaks again, “If you wouldn’t mind it, ma’am, we could perhaps keep you company until you feel less tearful?” He tries to smile, but it doesn’t come off right. It looks forced.

She looked up at Cassius, searching his face. All things considered, he didn't look like he'd hurt her. She took a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Yes, alright. If you wanted to hurt me you could have done it by now. Just give me a minute, I need to gather my things,” she said, before disappearing up the stairs.

She opens her box to pull out her stock list to check what needed refilling, and, refills all the appropriate vials and containers. She sneakily pinches a few extras of the rare ones, thinking Who knows when I'll be back here?

Slinging the box by its strap over her shoulder and hoisting the small stack of books on top, she potters down the stairs once more. “Thank you kindly for waiting,” The one called Dmitri had been impatiently pacing in the street beyond, but he quickly stood to attention, muttering something in his native language.

“You’re welcome,” Cassius says to her - when she had come down, he stopped leaning against the doorframe.

She smiled a taut and forced smile, “So where are we going?” she asked, starting out the door and waiting for the others to lead the way. She was hunched and reserved, trying to make herself look small.

Cassius seems to look confused for a moment, but he seems to mentally shrug it off fairly quick, “To the chapel - they have beds, and food, and medicine, if you’re in need of it.”

A collab between @Ladypug@YeetMeister@Haeo, and myself

As the guard was telling her that they could use some more volunteers transporting the wounded to the chapel, a chill ran down El's back, causing her to glance behind her just as a group of...merchants walked by. She doesn't know what it was about them, possibly their scars or their muscular bodies, but she got and off-putting feeling from them...

Shaking her head, El returned her full attention to the guard. She was probably just imagining or projecting things, after all, the roads can be rather dangerous and merchants have to travel constantly in order to transport valuable goods, who was she to judge them just because they have a few more scars and muscles than the merchants that she's used to seeing? The bad feeling was most likely just the result of the atmosphere surrounding this poor city after their recent battle...

Giving the guard a final nod, and her finest encouraging smile, she walked deeper into the town, clutching Ava's reigns tightly as she looked for injured survivors, her heart growing heavier each time she discovered a body. She didn't give up though, these people need help and as much as she just wants to go find her highness and get away from the death littering the streets, she knew where her priorities lay at the moment.

It was around a half-hour after she started her search that her efforts finally bore fruit in the shape of a young injured man lying half-hidden inside a side-alley, most likely in order to escape the attackers after becoming too injured to continue fighting. Pulling a couple of bandages out of her pack, El quickly worked to cover the worst of his injuries. Hopefully it'll do until she could get him some real medical attention.

With painstaking care, a lot of effort and some coaxing on her end to get her horse to kneel, she helped the half-conscious man to mount her steed, taking great care to ensure that he wont tumble off, and started heading in the direction she believed the guard said that the Chapel was.

Though, considering the fact that she is a complete stranger to these roads, it was to be expected that she would get turned around on her way there. Thankfully, luck was on her side and she managed to cross paths with a young woman who was happy to point her in the right direction, allowing her to reach it without too much trouble.

Bringing Ava to a halt in front of the chapel, she secured her beloved horse's reigns and helped her passenger to dismount, supporting him as they climbed up the steps to the building. Curiously enough, they passed an orc, though considering circumstances, El didn't dwell on the why's, considering that he didn't seem to be hurting anybody, so with a nod in his direction as a greeting she entered the building and was promptly relieved of her charge by a nearby monk.

She lingered only long enough to see him disappear behind a door to receive treatment before she was off again to repeat the process.

The messenger waited patiently by the chapel, his body facing outwards to observe the townsfolk milling about. He wished to finish his task quickly and return to his warband, but he couldn't help but wonder the possibilities within the near future. While many orcs like himself had joined Malakaus for the chance of plunder and violence, Malakaus had grander desires than just base destruction. It was a desire that resonated in many young orcs; while the older orcs pined for the glory days the new generation wanted change. Something different from just laboring in the wilds and something more exotic, exciting. For him, it truly felt like he was part of something grand. The orc shook this feeling off as some more of the wounded arrived to the chapel. His duty was simply to deliver the message, nothing more nothing less. Though admittedly his attention was caught when he spotted an elven woman assisting the wounded. He's never seen an elf before. He's only heard about them in passing, usually through the racist rants of his elders when complaining about the lands and history they've lost to the likes of elves, humans, and dwarves. She nodded to him. This made the orc freeze up a moment, nod back, and tried to look like he was guarding the chapel instead of just standing around like some sort of fool.

Though to his surprise, he spotted another orc making his way to him. He didn't think Malakaus would send another messenger...

---

Meanwhile back at the camp, Malakaus and his fellow orcs had finished smelting the left over steel into ingots and were ready to move out. He still hadn't heard from his messenger yet so he presumed that he would need to head to the town himself, however as he was packing up his belongings Garruk approached him. He spoke in a hush tone with two of his falcons sitting on his outstretched hand. "Zned um ud?" Garruk nodded as he let his falcons fly off into the skies. "U mirmi e tumdohpersi ur dni lehmn. La wecsyrm wyort dni muknd yw er eddesg. Ry mohfufyhm, ry pytuim." Malakaus didn't seem concerned, but Garruk wouldn't bother him about trivial things. This must have been important if Garruk came to Malakaus himself to tell him about it. "Zem ud era yw la lir? Yh bihnebm timihdihm?" The falconer shook his head as he put his hand to his mouth in deep contemplation. "Ry. Dned'm zned syrsihrm li. Ry pcesg ehhyzm, pod riudnih zihi dnihi mukrm yw mukruwuserd mdhokkci. Dni pytuim zihi kyri dyy. Yrca pcyyt mdeurm ert e mdhokkci. Lihi timihdihm whyl dned lihsireha ehla syoctr'd nefi guccit dni sehefer my iwwusuirdca."

What the orc said did make Malakaus concerned, however he knew better than to jump at every shadow. His army wasn't nearly large enough right now that he could afford to fight every battle he comes across. A weakness of usual orcish leadership who become too greedy and don't choose their battles carefully. "Pertudm ehi ryd er oromoec dnhied ehyort dnum ehie. Sihdeurca zyoctr'd pi mohbhumit uw dnia'hi mguccit iryokn dy bocc yww e hyppiha zudn ry semoecduim. Ert ifir uw dnia syoctr'd efyut ayoh iaim, ud zyoct pinyyfi dnil dy dha ert kid hut yw era ifutirsi wyh dniuh yzr megi." Garruk lowed his arms and shrugged. "Bihnebm. Pod dni sehky ert nyhmi zem ryd degir yww dni hyet. La wecsyrm wyort ud'm dhesg syrduroit dyzehtm dni dyzr yw Tamberle. Umr'd ud sohuyom wyh hyppihm dy degi dniuh sehky ert dha ert micc ud ur dni suda? Zyoctr'd dnia dha dy micc dniuh zehim dy myliyri zudn cimm mshobcim?" Malakaus was slightly surprised that Garruk even knew about fences and other clandestine businesses, considering he's lived in the marsh his whole life. But Malakaus wouldn't question how he learned these things considering he talks to falcons somehow.

"Zned ehi ayo kiddurk ed? Ty ayo mombisd lyhi iriluim ehi ewdih Maren?" Garruk nodded his head. He pointed in the direction of Tamberle, and in the distance one of his falcons were also flying in that direction. "Ud zyoctr'd pi oromoec wyh dni lihsirehuim dy nefi hiurwyhsilirdm dy syli. Ifir zudn dni timdhosduyr yw dni leur ehla, dnimi lir lea dha ert degi etferdeki yw dni wukndurk dy mdhugi znuci dni suda um mducc hisyfihurk." Malakaus gritted his teeth. He had no problems fighting a battle, but he only fought against the Karsusian mercenaries because he knew exactly what he was dealing with, how to fight them, and had his own reinforcements ready in case things took a turn for the worse. He didn't have the same intel on this new foe, if it even is one. Not to mention he had already extended his hand to assist Maren with the mercenaries once, he wasn't about to offer charity a second time to protect her from this new enemy if she can't even be bothered to speak to his messenger.

As with all things Malakaus must act cautiously, less he finds himself in a situation he could have easily avoided. He turned to Garruk and ordered him to scout the area and find out more information about this new threat. Where they're at, who they are, anything that could be useful. He then went over to Tarkin as he was overlooking the catapults they took and ordered him to make them ready. He had his riders go out to gather any orc that had left to go hunt and tell them to hurry back to muster. There may be another battle soon. Finally, Malakaus' mother approached him. She informed him that the women were ready to leave. Malakaus told her to lead them back to the allied clans and wait for them. There was still some things he needed to take care of, and he didn't want his mother or any of the other non-combatants nearby when it happens. This just made her scoff; an orc woman was just as deadly as a warrior, especially when she has to defend her home. But Malakaus was firm and had her take the others back to the clans.

There was one more problem. This time Hew came to Malakaus and told him very simple that the Erymanthian Spawn was dead. This caught Malakaus off guard; while he knew it wasn't as powerful as the true boar, the fact anyone could kill it was shocking enough. But what Hew said afterwards made it clear that it wasn't murdered by humans, but the spawn had awakened something. Something stronger than it. Fortunately while it died within the Fire-fens it wasn't near Tamberle itself. As much as it concerned him, Malakaus didn't have time to send men out hunting for a dead monster. Though he'll keep in mind that there apparently is something worse than the Erymanthian Spawn in this place.

Wasn't long before the women cleared out, leaving Malakaus and his men ready to sally forth. For now, he would need them to be on standby until Garruk and Hew bring back more information about what they might be dealing with. Malakaus also sent out another runner to his messenger warning him of strange things happening and for him to remain on alert, especially around Maren. Malakaus gave his axe a few swings to get used to it's weight and heft, before an Tarkin came up to him and handed him a sword wrapped in cloth. Apparently his mother wanted Malakaus to have it. "This... Heh. Suppose I might as well hold onto it for now. Could be useful." Slinging the sword onto his back Malakaus and his men finished up their preparations.

Skurr had been standing in the shadow of the building, only a short distance away but out of sight. He is still covered in all sorts of… unpleasantness, and his head is pounding. But, it seems that the plan is changing to an escort job. He has a brief moment of clarity and steps out into view, turning his eyes to Cassius and speaking softly.

“The captain has a charge already. Shouldn’t you escort this one back to the Chapel, Sir? The new one and I can...” He suddenly stops and blinks, raising his free hand to tell ouch his head. “We can search for… others to help.” He lowers his hand, glances at the blood on it and tries to wipe it off on his filthy work leathers. It proves to be an unsuccessful attempt.

As Skurr’s condition now becomes blatantly apparent to Cassius, he wonders why he didn’t realize it before - stress? Exhaustion? He winces in sympathy, “No, you need to rest. I.. I don’t know how I didn’t notice that, I wouldn’t have done this-” obviously referring to the attempted running around and assisting people “-if I had.” Cassius looks to Dmitri, “I’m going to take these two to the chapel, you..” he vaguely waves him off. “You go and make yourself of use to these people.”

Dmitri started to object, but instead walked off. “I come to Chapel later.”

Monika sees the blood on Skurr’s hand, and her eyes widen. “Sit down,” she said, with more authority than anyone had expected. She walked to him and crouched down, setting the box on the ground. She tilts Skurr’s head, and examines the wound. The scalp seems at first to only have a long cut running from just above the left ear almost the whole way to the back of the head. However, under close inspection, the injury actually has separated the scalp from the skull several inches from the cut toward the top of the head. The skull itself does not have any grave damage but there are small signs that an axe had glanced off. Skurr had come very close to death and escaped by the toughness of his skull.

“It's a nasty cut. Infection is likely, and you'll probably feel severe delirium due to the location,” she said. She pulled a short knife out of the box, and began cutting away at the hair. After it came away in clumps, it was shaved to bald around the area of the wound.

She sat to think for a moment. Orcleaf and Saltflower in a Paleoil poultice for the wound, and Sunbulb Gum incense to purify the blood.

Wasting no time, she places a fist sized cauldron above a bowl, which she lights a fire in. She adds some sticky sap and seeds to the fire, releasing a thick white smoke, which she fans over to the injured man. She crushes some leaves and seeds into a thick paste, and, once the water has boiled, adds it to the water. While it infuses, she takes out a funnel and an alembic. With great care, she pours the tea into the alembic, setting it over the flame.

In a few minutes, she has a greenish poultice. “I know you're feeling rather nauseous right now, but this is the last thing,” she says, quietly adding “hopefully this works like it should.”

She lifts the flap of skin up, and applies the poultice to the inside and the outside of the wound. It made her fingers tingle, but it would bring down the pain, purify the wound, and harden, sealing the wound. “Now, you must be careful to allow no corruption to enter your body until this has healed. Because the wound is in your head, anything that would corrupt you will also corrupt your wound. Yes, this includes alcohol. Tell no priests about this, many of them don't take kindly to my craft,” she says, cleaning and stowing her apparatus. She puts the rest of the poultice in a bottle and seals it. She smiles at him. “If you need to be sick, please turn away.”

Hark and his crew dismounted at the entrance of the tavern and took the chest filled with their weapons and gear of the cart. As they made their way to the entrance Hark noticed a body of a child laying in a pool of blood. The crew entered the tavern rather abruptly and seamed to startled an old man sitting behind the front counter. The old man looked exhausted and had a bloody bandage wrapped around his left hand. “What can I do for you young fellas?” He asked. Hark stepped foreword to a dress the man, “We need your biggest room.” He said plopping a bag of money on the table. The old man picked up the bag and opened it and looked at the coins, “This is enough for a month!” He exclaimed as he saw the amount. “Yeah we’re planning on sticking around for a while we’re traders.” Hark said with a small smile. The old man didn’t give too much thought and motioned them to follow.

They were led up a small staircase and down the hall to the last door on the right where the man opened it and Hark and his men piled in with the chest. “I hope this is enough room for you all it’s the biggest we have.” Hark studied the room for a moment. It was a large room with five beds a small writing desk and a letter that led to the attic. Hark shook the old Man’s hand, “This room will do fine thank you.” Eric and Stormer drug put the crate of heat in the corner of the room and then gathered around Hark. “Alright listen we’re going to split up and start helping out. Our goal is to find out any information regarding Lady Maren. If she is dead we’ll be gone tonight if not we’ll have to stick around, and remember don’t try to arouse any suspicions just play the part of innocent traders wondering what happened to this city.”

Hark and His group left the the tavern and dispersed into the streets to gather their informations. Hark made his way to the front gate where the majority of the people were at work. As he came up on the gate he saw a guard dragging a body that was much too heavy for one person so he walked over and picked the deacesed up by the legs and started dragging him to the pile of other bodies. “So what the hell happened here? And why did they attack this particular town I thought it was quite peaceful and neautral.” The guard spit on the ground and looked up with tired eyes, “The hell do I know. Some mysterious people showed up a little while ago and then not long after they lose bastards arrived.” Hark knew exactly who the mysterious people he was referring too were. “Where exactly are they now? Did they all die?” The guard just shook his head and pointed over Harks shoulder, “Last I seen of that crew they were heading towards the chapel.” Hark shook his head and then headed off towards the chapel.

Elithiana was once again making her way back to the chapel. She's been going back and forth with the wounded for a while now and now wasn't any different. She was walking slowly and carefully, taking great care not to jostle the larger man that was practically hanging off of her shoulder while his friend was sitting half-slumped on Ava's back. It was times like these that she couldn't help but thank the spirits for letting her have such a loyal and well-behaved companion. Though it was by no means easy, practically having to drag a man both larger and heavier than herself half-way across the city, it would have been infinitely more so if she had to worry about her horse going off on her own if she wasn't constantly holding onto the reigns.

Turning down a street, she passed a tavern, barely sparing it a second glance. It wasn't as if she was planning on using it herself, after-all, winter is still a good ways off and it doesn't look as if a storm would be rolling in any-time soon, which is all reason she needs to spend a pleasant evening under the stars and surrounded by nature. Though...she had to try really hard to keep her attention away from the poor child's body outside of it...they were just so small...

Well, now, that train of thought never helped anybody! El has two people counting on her right now! She can't afford to lose focus now!

They were just a couple of blocks away from the chapel when a pained gasp escaped the man hanging off of her shoulder and he pitched fowards slightly, causing her to stumble. She barely managed to keep her balance and prevent the man from having a rough landing, gently lowering him to the ground and immediately checking him over.

"Sir, can you hear me? We're almost at the chapel, sir, please just a few more streets and then you can rest."

As she talked, she moved one of her hands from where they were supporting his head, giving his cheek a soft pat in order to get a response. He was already pale when she found him, but he was even more so now, sweat covered his brow causing his dark hair that was already clumping together from the blood from a small head-injury to cling to his face. Praying to any and all deities out there, she hoped that moving him didn't aggravate his injuries to a point of no return.

"...W-wa...water..." his voice, gravely and weak as it may be, came as a relief to her and she immediately sprang into action, laying him down as gently as she could and rummaging through her saddle bags for her flask and only briefly stopping to give the unconscious man on Ava a quick check and to make sure that he's not about to all off, before rushing back to the one on the ground. Gently supporting his head and allowing him to have a quick drink, she watched as he slumped with relief as the cool water entered his mouth before exhaustion claimed him.

Uttering a word she learned from her uncle that would have had her mother reaching for the soap, she debated her options. It was one thing to help support him when he was still half conscious and at least able to try to stay upright, but unconscious things just got a whole lot harder...

Cassius had stopped when Monika had urged Skurr to sit, and he watched in a subdued awe as Monika masterfully mixed seeds, oils, leaves, and other Earthly things together and made the tea and the poultice. He's been around witches(?) such as Monika before, but he never really had the chance to watch them so closely as they worked - it was mesmerizing, but he concluded it was that way because he was a man of brawn, not of brains.. Or, rather, not of Monika's kind of brains. He wasn't stupid. If he was, he wouldn't be a captain.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, body betraying his inner impatience - Maren is surely starting to wonder where her bodyguard may be. Within maybe 3 or 4 minutes, Monika has finished with Skurr.

"Witch," Cassius says - she never said her name, calling her by profession seemed like the right call, "how long will it take 'till he's healed, pray tell?"

@Royaletutor59



Now wandering through the city, Dmitri once again was alone. He could only hope that the Captain would find him again at the Chapel, but until that moment he had to act. Dmitri had never been a patient person, and that certainly wasn't changing today. He roamed the street searching for citizens who weren't too late to save. However, it seemed other rescue teams had cleared this area. Dmitri was left alone to himself. It wasn't long before the silence of the city streets began to unnerve him, and so he took to singing an old Praelean tune.*

"Вы, кто борется со злом
Поднимитесь на вызов мужчин
Ты должен быть смертельным
Если вы хотите, чтобы подлость закончилась!"

As he started to drift back towards the Chapel, he came across a woman near an unconscious man. He did not yet know her intentions, and so he drew his sword-spear, this time not for show. "Prasteete! Hold there. Step from injured man." As he got a closer look through the visor of his helm, he realized that the woman was either an elf or something not far from it. "What is meaning...no...intention. What is intention with that man?" He slowly stepped closer to the woman, shield held up. "I do not wish to harm, but I will if I must."

*Translation:

Ye who fight the evil
Rise to the challenge of men
Thou must be lethal
If you want the villainy to end!

@YeetMeister @Royaletutor59

As Hark walked back the way he came he was glad that the people he was looking for apparently Haden’s left the city and he was more than a little anxious to find out if his journey was for nothing. As he walked down the street and passed the tavern he heard a familiar voice come from an alleyway to his left, “Sir, wait up I got something!” Hark turned to see Eric coming towards him with a grin on his face. “Let me guess the church?” Hark asked as he approached. Eric frowned, “Darn I thought I was the first to find out.” Hark patted Eric on the shoulder and the two continued down the road.

As they rounded the last corner and the cathedral came into sight Hark and Eric saw an armored man with his weapon drawn and sheild ready standing before the Elf he had seen earlier who was crouched by an unconscious man. "I do not wish to harm, but I will if I must." He heard the man say to the Elf. Hark and Eric exchanged glances before walking over to the unfair confrontation.

“Hey tin can, the fighting here is long over.” Hark spoke up to the knight as he and Eric positioned themselves between him and the woman. The knight turned his attention to Hark and pointed his blade right at him. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help this poor woman trying to bring these two injured men to the cathedral.” Withought waiting for a reply from the knight Hark and Eric turned to the woman. “Allow us to help you.” He said with a friendly smile.

@YeetMeister @Elevation

As El was still debating on how exactly she's going to proceed to get the man to the Chapel without furthering his injuries, she heard a sound. It was soft and far away, but it was the unmistakable sound of singing. As a lover of music, El's interests were immediately perked and she couldn't help but glance in the direction of the mysterious singer, but one groan from her two injured companions was enough to banish all thoughts about music from her mind and to place her full focus on them instead.

She was interrupted from her thoughts however, when a voice called out to her. "Prasteete! Hold there. Step from injured man."

Startled she looked at the source of the voice, her green eyes widening slightly at the sight of the armored man and more importantly, the weapon her was holding. While she has no doubt that she could hold her own in a fight, her saber as well as her bow and arrows were secured on Ava's saddle bags and whats more, she has no guarantee that she'd be able to protect the injured men while fighting. She will try though if it comes down to it.

"What is meaning...no...intention. What is intention with that man?" He has an accent, it's interesting, El is sure that she heard it somewhere before, though she struggles to place it now. Banishing her musings on his accent, she assumed a more protective stance as he stepped forwards. She refuses to let any more harm come to these men.

"I do not wish to harm, but I will if I must." If he doesn't wish wish harm, he has a funny way of showing it, though maybe he just misjudged the situation? Elithiana hopes so...

Elithiana was about to respond to the knight, and hopefully defuse the situation when a new voice joined the party. “Hey tin can, the fighting here is long over.”

Looking up, she saw that two of the merchants she spotted earlier were positioning themselves between her and the knight, causing the latter to point his blade at the one who spoke. El wasn't sure whether or not she preferred it when he was pointing the blade at her or not, she hated it when others place themselves in dangerous situations.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and help this poor woman trying to bring these two injured men to the cathedral.” While she agrees with the first part, she'd hardly call herself a poor woman...

Without waiting for a reply from the knight, the two merchants turned to her. “Allow us to help you.” The one that she assumes is the leader due to doing all the talking up to this point, said with a friendly smile that she returned.

"Thank you, you're help is much appreciated." Looking at the knight though, she felt a little sorry for him, he probably was just trying to help. Sending him a small smile she addressed him, "No hard feelings about what happened, alright? After what happened last night, anybody would be on edge."

Dmitri stood at the ready, when a voice rang out. "Hey tin can, the fighting here is long over." Before Dmitri could get another word in, the man spoke again. "Why don’t you make yourself useful and help this poor woman trying to bring these two injured men to the cathedral." Dmitri felt foolish, like a skittish child who had been told a scary story. He looked down and shuffled his feet as the man offered to help the woman.

Dmitri started to step away when the woman smiled at him and addressed him. Dmitri quickly sheathed his weapon once more. "Yes...I am on edge. My apologies. Being in this land for long has...changed my mind, perhaps." He took off his helmet, hanging its chin strap on a hook on his belt. Dmitri smiled at the woman. "My name is Dmitri. I come from Praele. The Order of Chemjir sent me to persecute criminals who have fled our land. I am no tin can, as this man says. I am great warrior. And I am deeply sorry for being so unfriendly. It was my job to end our negative reputation, when I fear I have only deepened it."

He kneeled down, addressing both parties. "You have my thanks for being so forgiving." He stood up quickly, again towering over the helpers. "Now, as a token of friendship, let me to carry the man. I may need some help, as this," He gestured to his shield with his free hand. "Occupies part of my strength." Dmitri walked over to the prone man, getting a better look at him. "From looks of it, we need to hurry." Dmitri inspected the man, growing increasingly worried. His seemed to be in critical condition, and his wound looked near fatal. He could only hope that hefting the man would not worsen his pain. Dmitri hated to be wasting time for this poor man, but he needed to be smart about transporting the man if he didn't want to kill him.

@Elevation@YeetMeister

"Yes...I am on edge. My apologies. Being in this land for long has...changed my mind, perhaps." Elithiana's smile brightened slightly as he took off his helmet, hanging its chin strap on a hook on his belt, he looked a lot less intimidating without it on and any nerves that remained from the previous altercation left her. "My name is Dmitri. I come from Praele. The Order of Chemjir sent me to persecute criminals who have fled our land. I am no tin can, as this man says. I am great warrior. And I am deeply sorry for being so unfriendly. It was my job to end our negative reputation, when I fear I have only deepened it."

Smiling brightly, she nodded, pleased to finally be able to identify his accent. She doesn't know why it took her so long to place it, after all, her uncle used to have a friend who was from Praele, the two of them were constantly arguing. She'd have to ask her uncle whether he still has contact with him... "Don't fret about it, alright?" As he shouldn't, she is not in the habit of judging others. "My name is Elithiana, but" nodding to him and the two gentlemen who came to her assistance, "my friends all call me El."

He kneeled down, surprising El slightly. "You have my thanks for being so forgiving." He stood up again quickly. "Now, as a token of friendship, let me to carry the man. I may need some help, as this," He gestured to his shield with his free hand. "Occupies part of my strength." It does look rather heavy...

Dmitri walked over to the man, looking him over. "From looks of it, we need to hurry." Elithiana's expression turned grave as she once again turned her attention to the man. He was so pale...

"Yes, I was debating how to move him when you three got here, I didn't want to cause him any further harm." Nodding slightly to the three men around her "I'm really glad that the three of you showed up when you did, I'm sure that between us, we'll be able to move him safely."

When the two orcs met, they shared a quick handshake as was tradition in their clan. The messenger than asked what the newcomer wanted. "Tutr'd iqbisd dy mii ayo nihi. Ty U nefi riz yhtihm?" The new orc nodded his head and handed the messenger a rolled up scroll for him to read. The message was also written in runic orcish, creating what looked like a large and intricate puzzle as oppose to a message."Aien. Pymm meam dy pi yr dni cyyg yod wyh bydirduec iriluim. Msyodm hibyhdit e sehefer zem eddesgit, zekyrm ert sehky zem degir dyzehtm dni suda. Syoct pi iriluim tumkoumit em lihsnerdm. Zi riit dy bhydisd Maren em zicc em ticufih nih limmeki." After reading the scroll the messenger just snorted and proceeded to eat the letter. It was made of parchment, so while it was bitter and chewy, it was entirely edible for orcs. "Bah! Dnymi syzehtm tyr'd nefi dni sorrurk. Mducc, U'cc giib la iaim yr erayri mombusuyom. Mni um nihi ur dni dilbci, ert snersim ehi mni'cc pi dyy zieg dy tiwirt nihmicw. U zyoct ky ur dy wurt nih, nyzifih U tyr'd zerd dy shiedi namdihue elyrk dni nolerm. Dnia echieta kufi li tumdhomdwoc cyygm vomd piurk nihi." The other orc chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. He looked around before turning away from the orc. "Hah! Legim mirmi, ayo'hi e phodi. Mducc, zi ser'd weuc nihi. Ky urmuti ert wurt nih, U'cc giib la iaim yod wyh erayri zny miilm mombusuyom. Pymm dnurgm dni dyzr nem echieta piir sylbhylumit my zi riit dy emmoli erayri um dni dheudyh."

The two parted ways as the messenger mulled on what his next actions should be. With his new orders his job just got more complicated, and since only the orcs knew why he was even here, it was a delicate situation for him to get involved. Any wrong move could lead to a diplomatic disaster. Such thinking was the reason why Malakaus chose him to be a messenger; any other orc would've just acted on their own instinct without truly understanding his own actions, which could lead to turmoil. Though not the turmoil was internal as oppose to external. He supposed this was better than a botched attempt at creating an alliance. More importantly, he needed a reason to be inside of the chapel. If he just barges in it might make people think he was invading.

That's when he noticed down the street some people trying to move bodies. It was that elven lass with a few of the townsfolk. Seeing his opportunity the orc approached. As he got closer he could see that the man on the ground was grievously wounded, bad enough that it could even put down an orc. Seemed like they were trying to figure out how to move him. This made the messenger silently scoff; their indecisive nature would kill someone one of these days. So the orc reached into his pack and took out his bedroll; it was suitably huge, huge enough to easily fit two humans inside. Or carry one. The orc went over to one of the humans who wasn't carrying anything, handing them one end of the bedroll. "Lay the man onto the bedroll, and we can carry him into the temple safely. Be quick! He'll bleed to death out here, but at least he might survive if he's taken inside."