A Prologue for the Kapellmeister
To Axiom and her beloved empire, they were known respectfully as The Wolfhounds. Thus to her enemies, those wretched outsiders who pissed fear and died terribly, like dung that fell from a donkey’s hind, buried and tragically forgotten in the heart of winter, would know them as no other but The Queen’s Sword.
The Wolfhounds
General Ghola, Sergeant Olug, Merls the Goblin, Sergeant Lydia, Durzul (also called Beastman), Private Krognak (Korag’s blood brother), Gruzgob the Skull, Elder Grommock, Shobub No Tusk, Lash’na The Red and Skuldug the Half Orc, lead by Korag the Great, would all arrive at the gates of Belgora this day.
The air was cool and it hissed like violent serpents, digging and cutting like fangs in their tough skin; threatening to penetrate through their bearskin cloaks. But the Orcs were a prominent race now, survivors of the cold and overcomers of subjugation.
It was an hour before nightfall and Korag and his company each lit a torch—all except Lash’na The Red whose crimson light glowed from a mystic stone on the center of her iron waist belt. She carried a wooden staff as well and the young virgin was blind in the physical realm.
Behind them was a large wagon, carried by sturdy legged horses whose long hair covered most of their fur.
“Your affections for this...human is starting to concern me, Korag.” Ghola broke the silence.
They had already rung the bell to the Belgora gates, now they waited for the Norsemen to arrive and let them in. A blizzard was coming swiftly from the north of where they stood. Korag thought it wise to shelter here until the storm passed—he also desired to speak to Jovina about private matters.
“She must know that her caravan has arrived in the south, Ghola. Behave yourself in the presence of my Queen.” Korag retorted.
Ghola growled at what ended in a purr after her Kings response. “Your Queen?”
The Wolfhounds all listened to hear. Beastman snorted in laughter at her challenge. Then Elder Grommock interceded to shove the General aside. His blade unsheathed and he placed it near the edge of the she-Orcs throat.
“Know your place Ghola. Be a good lass and get in line.”
Ghola softened at Grommock’s threat—she highly respected the warrior, almost as much as she loved Korag. So there was not only dissension, but jealously in her heart.
“This Pact is better for both of our people, Ghola. But you are still young...an infantile that lacks diplomacy.” Korag lectured her softly. “Let this be the last time you challenge me. I will offer no further warnings.”
Ghola looked around nervously, her muscular legs shook between each other. There was silence once more and she wanted to go inside desperately now, to get whatever drinks these humans had to offer—the sooner they got in, the sooner she got that drink inside her.
To Axiom and her beloved empire, they were known respectfully as The Wolfhounds. Thus to her enemies, those wretched outsiders who pissed fear and died terribly, like dung that fell from a donkey’s hind, buried and tragically forgotten in the heart of winter, would know them as no other but The Queen’s Sword.
The Wolfhounds
General Ghola, Sergeant Olug, Merls the Goblin, Sergeant Lydia, Durzul (also called Beastman), Private Krognak (Korag’s blood brother), Gruzgob the Skull, Elder Grommock, Shobub No Tusk, Lash’na The Red and Skuldug the Half Orc, lead by Korag the Great, would all arrive at the gates of Belgora this day.
The air was cool and it hissed like violent serpents, digging and cutting like fangs in their tough skin; threatening to penetrate through their bearskin cloaks. But the Orcs were a prominent race now, survivors of the cold and overcomers of subjugation.
It was an hour before nightfall and Korag and his company each lit a torch—all except Lash’na The Red whose crimson light glowed from a mystic stone on the center of her iron waist belt. She carried a wooden staff as well and the young virgin was blind in the physical realm.
Behind them was a large wagon, carried by sturdy legged horses whose long hair covered most of their fur.
“Your affections for this...human is starting to concern me, Korag.” Ghola broke the silence.
They had already rung the bell to the Belgora gates, now they waited for the Norsemen to arrive and let them in. A blizzard was coming swiftly from the north of where they stood. Korag thought it wise to shelter here until the storm passed—he also desired to speak to Jovina about private matters.
“She must know that her caravan has arrived in the south, Ghola. Behave yourself in the presence of my Queen.” Korag retorted.
Ghola growled at what ended in a purr after her Kings response. “Your Queen?”
The Wolfhounds all listened to hear. Beastman snorted in laughter at her challenge. Then Elder Grommock interceded to shove the General aside. His blade unsheathed and he placed it near the edge of the she-Orcs throat.
“Know your place Ghola. Be a good lass and get in line.”
Ghola softened at Grommock’s threat—she highly respected the warrior, almost as much as she loved Korag. So there was not only dissension, but jealously in her heart.
“This Pact is better for both of our people, Ghola. But you are still young...an infantile that lacks diplomacy.” Korag lectured her softly. “Let this be the last time you challenge me. I will offer no further warnings.”
Ghola looked around nervously, her muscular legs shook between each other. There was silence once more and she wanted to go inside desperately now, to get whatever drinks these humans had to offer—the sooner they got in, the sooner she got that drink inside her.
The sheer cliffs of Belgora offered as much welcome as a cold shoulder could. Each sturdy rock offered some protection from the cold; if only it didn't radiate with bitter unwelcomness to all but the Norse. They alone seemed to hear the sweet song of constant whistling echoing off the indifferent boulders; both natural and those sculpted by man. Their castles offer the comfort of a constant draft in all but the most carefully stuffed and insulated halls and chambers.
A great bear of a man stands outside the castle - just visible up over the horizon seen to Korag's crowd. Widsith turns his heavily scarred face to the left as to see the crowd with his good eye. The older man gives a sigh that sounds a century older than the bearer looks. "Dear gods above, why have you sent the vultures?" He mutters just before issuing a command. "Narcissa!" He calls, his deep timbre jutting like a stab of warmth in the uncomfortable, hardened castle he calls home.
A blonde of unparalleled beauty belches from the ground, a slew of half naked women surrounding her. "Yes, Eunuch?" she groans. As the youngest of the siblings and fraternal twin to the queen, she is next in line and acts every bit the part of a spoiled, opinionated heiress. Widsith could have been next, had he not sustained grievous, nasty injuries that prevent him from furthering the bloodline.
"We have people at the gate. Unless my eye deceives me--"
"It often does," she drawls, stretching her arms and moving to slap the nearest parts of her slumbering companions. Each of the women awakens with a fierce and angry look about them, as if they live their lives constantly ready for battle.
"It's Korag's litter out there, you impudent whelp. Go greet him nicely."
"He wants to stab Jovina with his little sword. Why should I?"
Thanks to the fact that he only has one orb under his employ, Widsith's remaining peeper manages to do twice the work when he offers his littlest, brattiest little twat of a sister the most blood-curdling glare he can muster. It seems to do the trick, for the lovely Narcissa stands and begins to make her way over to the next room. She and the women dress themselves and each other with the casualness that only comes from spending far too much time together.
The War Maidens mount their herd of muskox by the end of an hour's time. Narcissa's is a black, burly beast that seems to have seen far more battles than the fair, unscathed woman upon her back. Scars litter it, as if it's taken every hit for Narcissa. "How lovely to see you, delighted and honored guests," she declares with all the passion of a whore who wants to take a nap. Her flat monotone is accentuated with a rolling of her eye, as if each word is drug free from her voluptuous lips. "To what do we have the honor of your visit?" The boredom dripping from her voice flows more freely than the frozen water surrounding them.
A great bear of a man stands outside the castle - just visible up over the horizon seen to Korag's crowd. Widsith turns his heavily scarred face to the left as to see the crowd with his good eye. The older man gives a sigh that sounds a century older than the bearer looks. "Dear gods above, why have you sent the vultures?" He mutters just before issuing a command. "Narcissa!" He calls, his deep timbre jutting like a stab of warmth in the uncomfortable, hardened castle he calls home.
A blonde of unparalleled beauty belches from the ground, a slew of half naked women surrounding her. "Yes, Eunuch?" she groans. As the youngest of the siblings and fraternal twin to the queen, she is next in line and acts every bit the part of a spoiled, opinionated heiress. Widsith could have been next, had he not sustained grievous, nasty injuries that prevent him from furthering the bloodline.
"We have people at the gate. Unless my eye deceives me--"
"It often does," she drawls, stretching her arms and moving to slap the nearest parts of her slumbering companions. Each of the women awakens with a fierce and angry look about them, as if they live their lives constantly ready for battle.
"It's Korag's litter out there, you impudent whelp. Go greet him nicely."
"He wants to stab Jovina with his little sword. Why should I?"
Thanks to the fact that he only has one orb under his employ, Widsith's remaining peeper manages to do twice the work when he offers his littlest, brattiest little twat of a sister the most blood-curdling glare he can muster. It seems to do the trick, for the lovely Narcissa stands and begins to make her way over to the next room. She and the women dress themselves and each other with the casualness that only comes from spending far too much time together.
The War Maidens mount their herd of muskox by the end of an hour's time. Narcissa's is a black, burly beast that seems to have seen far more battles than the fair, unscathed woman upon her back. Scars litter it, as if it's taken every hit for Narcissa. "How lovely to see you, delighted and honored guests," she declares with all the passion of a whore who wants to take a nap. Her flat monotone is accentuated with a rolling of her eye, as if each word is drug free from her voluptuous lips. "To what do we have the honor of your visit?" The boredom dripping from her voice flows more freely than the frozen water surrounding them.
It had been an hour since that brief confrontation with General Ghola. The orcess managed to contain her emotions now that she was put back in line by her superiors. Albeit her anger still burned for her liege. She wanted Korag to love her and the only way to forget that desire was to drown herself in bottle or booze; neither was around.
Korag was aware of what she wanted, but as King he had kept his mind focused on the task. And being that winter had arrived early he did not have the energy nor time to court any in his circle; he needed their minds to be right for the fray.
Suddenly, the silence ended as the iron gates broke from the thick slush and began to raise; it felt like an eternity how he watched them go up so slowly. It was bad enough they were full of rust, but now ice had hindered them as well. Korag looked ahead to see the crowd of muskox's, the pale women all mounted and close together. He was expecting the Queen personally, but now he understood why it took so long. Narcissa was young and lacked court hospitality, unlike Jovina. What Narcissa lacked was made up for in battle. For many years did Korag fight beside Narcissa and Widsith, they were both his battle cronies. And even though the sister was often rebellious to Jovina; Korag truly enjoyed her company. Where Widsith was uptight and played by the rules, Narcissa was ambitious and made up for it with her humor.
"Narcissa, and here I thought your people would die of starvation before you managed to get your gates open." Korag grinned to smack Naricssa's muscular leg in a playful greeting; while she was still mounted. He could smell the booze on her breath. "Smells good. What ye be drinking? Tongue of the Shield Maiden." He chuckled.
His Orc Band all howled and chuckled, lively again, now that the feeling of warm fire pits met their frozen limbs. Korag was much more attractive than his monstrous companions, albeit his brother Krognak, was twenty years younger, his smooth muscles were still ripe and growing and his long ravenous hair made him look more boyish compared to Korag and the others; even the Shield Maidens watched him move on his mount so agilely, his body was lithe like a young panther.
"Evening ladies. Forgive my brother’s terrible humor. It is almost as terrible as his face. Fortunately, I was able to take the elk down so you good Norse will not starve." The Private had said.
"Krognak, at least I got the better name." Korag jested about his sibling. "With a face like yours, mother should have called you Steven."
The Wolfhounds all howled in laughter.
Krognak had nothing in retort, he was even amused by the come back.
"Good hunting either way, brother. Those damn elves are holding the place tight. Will have to make this meat last, at least until the storm clears." He explained.
Once everyone was settled inside, the gates behind them shut and the poor bastards who were caught out in the blizzard would find death soon enough. Korag was glad the gates opened for him when they did because his people were starting to freeze over and the storm was not seizing anytime soon.
"So, where is your lovely sister? I need to speak with her." Korag demanded.
Korag was aware of what she wanted, but as King he had kept his mind focused on the task. And being that winter had arrived early he did not have the energy nor time to court any in his circle; he needed their minds to be right for the fray.
Suddenly, the silence ended as the iron gates broke from the thick slush and began to raise; it felt like an eternity how he watched them go up so slowly. It was bad enough they were full of rust, but now ice had hindered them as well. Korag looked ahead to see the crowd of muskox's, the pale women all mounted and close together. He was expecting the Queen personally, but now he understood why it took so long. Narcissa was young and lacked court hospitality, unlike Jovina. What Narcissa lacked was made up for in battle. For many years did Korag fight beside Narcissa and Widsith, they were both his battle cronies. And even though the sister was often rebellious to Jovina; Korag truly enjoyed her company. Where Widsith was uptight and played by the rules, Narcissa was ambitious and made up for it with her humor.
"Narcissa, and here I thought your people would die of starvation before you managed to get your gates open." Korag grinned to smack Naricssa's muscular leg in a playful greeting; while she was still mounted. He could smell the booze on her breath. "Smells good. What ye be drinking? Tongue of the Shield Maiden." He chuckled.
His Orc Band all howled and chuckled, lively again, now that the feeling of warm fire pits met their frozen limbs. Korag was much more attractive than his monstrous companions, albeit his brother Krognak, was twenty years younger, his smooth muscles were still ripe and growing and his long ravenous hair made him look more boyish compared to Korag and the others; even the Shield Maidens watched him move on his mount so agilely, his body was lithe like a young panther.
"Evening ladies. Forgive my brother’s terrible humor. It is almost as terrible as his face. Fortunately, I was able to take the elk down so you good Norse will not starve." The Private had said.
"Krognak, at least I got the better name." Korag jested about his sibling. "With a face like yours, mother should have called you Steven."
The Wolfhounds all howled in laughter.
Krognak had nothing in retort, he was even amused by the come back.
"Good hunting either way, brother. Those damn elves are holding the place tight. Will have to make this meat last, at least until the storm clears." He explained.
Once everyone was settled inside, the gates behind them shut and the poor bastards who were caught out in the blizzard would find death soon enough. Korag was glad the gates opened for him when they did because his people were starting to freeze over and the storm was not seizing anytime soon.
"So, where is your lovely sister? I need to speak with her." Korag demanded.
Narcissa's bored expression splits into a feisty grin as the men see through her deception. "My people don't die so easily. We'd eat the slaves first. Then we'd come for the next weakest thing. Hello, Steven." She smirks at the most beautiful orc man. Poor Krognak was often the butt of their jokes. "You sure are a pretty thing. If it weren't for the almonds between your legs and your incompetence with a sword, you could have made an excellent pole bearer for the Shield Maidens." The blonde shifts her head to allow the breeze to catch and ruffle her hair free from her face. Behind her are a dozen other proven women. Some horrendous, one fat yet ripped named Helga and another that had cut her breasts off to become the best archer possible - that was Beula.
"I was getting a taste of our newest sweetling when you maggots decided to come and ruin my play." Of course they have no way of knowing that she had been sleeping, so why bore them with the truth? The storm continues to rage around them with the fury of swarming bees. In a sudden gust, she has to nearly yell to be heard.
"I assume she's in biggest rock behind us. Why don't we go and take a look, Korag? If you're lucky you can introduce her to that sword of yours." Her soldiers smirk behind them, not ones for open laughter unless they're drunk. A hangover and blizzard hardly served to excite the sword wenches.
Thus they all turn and begin their trudge through the freshly accumulated snow over their old path. The people of the north don't waste their time with landscaping or other sorts of beautification. The front hall is wide, littered with hounds, and only has the simplest of wooden torches with tallow candles dripping grease down the sides. A human girl cleans the marks and stares over her shoulder; in awe of the Shield Maidens, yet fearsome of the ogres. The brown haired little scamp scuttles away as quickly as she can as to keep clear of the masses.
A functional spread of bear and muskox rugs collect most of the moisture in the first hall as the crowd stomps through. Widsith had alerted Jovina to the presence of their orc friends. While the Shield Maidens had taken their time getting out and about, the queen had disentangled herself from her slumber and taken some time to look like a ruler. A centauress washes and brushes the matriarch's straight brown hair and arranges the crown atop. "Beautiful," the tauress compliments her liege. Despite the collar at her throat, she seems to thrive in the stability the kingdom offers. If only she knew, the queen thinks to herself.
"Thank you, Masar'th." Masar'th's quarters are next to Jovina's, whose is adjacent to the throne room. Her dress is white, with a cloak of black and white fur roaned so closely together the wolf that once wore it almost seems blue in a certain lighting. Queen Jovina adorns her ornate wooden throne. The same girl that had been in the hall before had recently oiled Jovina's chair until it shines with perfection. A single white polar bear lays between the queen and her audience as they stride up the steps.
Narcissa pulls up short. "Do you want some privacy, Korag? Or does it help you to have watchers?" In short, the princess was asking him if he'd like to speak with Jovina alone, or if everyone else will be joining them.
"I was getting a taste of our newest sweetling when you maggots decided to come and ruin my play." Of course they have no way of knowing that she had been sleeping, so why bore them with the truth? The storm continues to rage around them with the fury of swarming bees. In a sudden gust, she has to nearly yell to be heard.
"I assume she's in biggest rock behind us. Why don't we go and take a look, Korag? If you're lucky you can introduce her to that sword of yours." Her soldiers smirk behind them, not ones for open laughter unless they're drunk. A hangover and blizzard hardly served to excite the sword wenches.
Thus they all turn and begin their trudge through the freshly accumulated snow over their old path. The people of the north don't waste their time with landscaping or other sorts of beautification. The front hall is wide, littered with hounds, and only has the simplest of wooden torches with tallow candles dripping grease down the sides. A human girl cleans the marks and stares over her shoulder; in awe of the Shield Maidens, yet fearsome of the ogres. The brown haired little scamp scuttles away as quickly as she can as to keep clear of the masses.
A functional spread of bear and muskox rugs collect most of the moisture in the first hall as the crowd stomps through. Widsith had alerted Jovina to the presence of their orc friends. While the Shield Maidens had taken their time getting out and about, the queen had disentangled herself from her slumber and taken some time to look like a ruler. A centauress washes and brushes the matriarch's straight brown hair and arranges the crown atop. "Beautiful," the tauress compliments her liege. Despite the collar at her throat, she seems to thrive in the stability the kingdom offers. If only she knew, the queen thinks to herself.
"Thank you, Masar'th." Masar'th's quarters are next to Jovina's, whose is adjacent to the throne room. Her dress is white, with a cloak of black and white fur roaned so closely together the wolf that once wore it almost seems blue in a certain lighting. Queen Jovina adorns her ornate wooden throne. The same girl that had been in the hall before had recently oiled Jovina's chair until it shines with perfection. A single white polar bear lays between the queen and her audience as they stride up the steps.
Narcissa pulls up short. "Do you want some privacy, Korag? Or does it help you to have watchers?" In short, the princess was asking him if he'd like to speak with Jovina alone, or if everyone else will be joining them.
Once the gates were closed, the large wagon was brought forth—it was heavy, stuffed with a fat frozen elk inside it. Korag smacked the wooden surface and Shobub & Skuldug both lifted the wheeled wagon and carried it to the nearest Norse butcher.
Merls the Goblin was ten feet tall, a giant amongst everyone. He was the only one who wore no upper garment—all he had on was a strapped breastplate that held his shield and sword together, both tied securely on his backside and some rugged leather paints that needed sewing repair.
“Give me Danak maiden Eg.” Merls struggled with common.
Korag sighed yet he desperately needed him happy. He was his best fighter who no doubt earned a good piece of booty. He eyed Narcissa, begging him with his olive hues to send the Goblin a wench.
“Narciukuka liwo avake care ro lat broavhas.” Korag said to Merls.
“Fine.” The giant nodded and left to the nearest inn—his large foot steps pounded into the ground with great force.
Korag’s band stubbornly followed, when Narci led them through the gated city. When they arrived at the entrance of the castle, Narcissa asked if he wanted the Queen in private. Korag nodded. Slowly the Orcs began to depart and find their own evening affairs. General Ghola was hesitant, envy burned in her eyes—even how Korag had playfully flirted with Narcissa. In her infantile mind, the humans had everything—even her Kings love. She growled and finally left.
“What about me, brother...shall I accompany you?” Krognak wondered.
“You can go with Narcissa.” He decided.
“What? I don’t want to go with her.” He protested. “Let me be present with Jovina’s Royal audience.”
The Orcs and Nords who heard this all grunted in amusement.
“You will be...as Narcissa’s Royal arse.”
Grommock shook his head at the young Orc, embarrassingly as Krognak squealed. Laughter was heard as the Shield Maiden’s dragged Krognak away.
Then before the Elder and Lash’na The Red would depart, Korag spoke out to them.
“Not you two. I need you both with me.”
Finally, the entirety of his entourage was gone. With that out of the way, Korag proceeded. The trio would follow Lord Widsith inside, since Narcissa would be busy tending to his needy companions.
Grommock would act as Korag’s personal guard, adviser and wise councilman and Lash’na had a message to show her King. She walked with her wooden staff aware of everything and everyone in the interior; even though she appeared physically blind.
When they arrived in the throne room, Korag bowed, honored that Jovina took the time to get pretty for him—he could even smell the fresh polish on her seats.
“My Lady, you honor me with your beauty.” Korag complimented her, his large fingers gently taking her hand to kiss her pale knuckles true—it was a beauty and the beast moment in Obelus history. Large fingers carefully caressed her smaller petite ones.
“I’ve brought food and a message.” He shared, letting her hand go and taking a seat beside her—adoration was seen in his eyes for the woman, and those who knew Korag the Great, knew he desired to please no other.
Merls the Goblin was ten feet tall, a giant amongst everyone. He was the only one who wore no upper garment—all he had on was a strapped breastplate that held his shield and sword together, both tied securely on his backside and some rugged leather paints that needed sewing repair.
“Give me Danak maiden Eg.” Merls struggled with common.
Korag sighed yet he desperately needed him happy. He was his best fighter who no doubt earned a good piece of booty. He eyed Narcissa, begging him with his olive hues to send the Goblin a wench.
“Narciukuka liwo avake care ro lat broavhas.” Korag said to Merls.
“Fine.” The giant nodded and left to the nearest inn—his large foot steps pounded into the ground with great force.
Korag’s band stubbornly followed, when Narci led them through the gated city. When they arrived at the entrance of the castle, Narcissa asked if he wanted the Queen in private. Korag nodded. Slowly the Orcs began to depart and find their own evening affairs. General Ghola was hesitant, envy burned in her eyes—even how Korag had playfully flirted with Narcissa. In her infantile mind, the humans had everything—even her Kings love. She growled and finally left.
“What about me, brother...shall I accompany you?” Krognak wondered.
“You can go with Narcissa.” He decided.
“What? I don’t want to go with her.” He protested. “Let me be present with Jovina’s Royal audience.”
The Orcs and Nords who heard this all grunted in amusement.
“You will be...as Narcissa’s Royal arse.”
Grommock shook his head at the young Orc, embarrassingly as Krognak squealed. Laughter was heard as the Shield Maiden’s dragged Krognak away.
Then before the Elder and Lash’na The Red would depart, Korag spoke out to them.
“Not you two. I need you both with me.”
Finally, the entirety of his entourage was gone. With that out of the way, Korag proceeded. The trio would follow Lord Widsith inside, since Narcissa would be busy tending to his needy companions.
Grommock would act as Korag’s personal guard, adviser and wise councilman and Lash’na had a message to show her King. She walked with her wooden staff aware of everything and everyone in the interior; even though she appeared physically blind.
When they arrived in the throne room, Korag bowed, honored that Jovina took the time to get pretty for him—he could even smell the fresh polish on her seats.
“My Lady, you honor me with your beauty.” Korag complimented her, his large fingers gently taking her hand to kiss her pale knuckles true—it was a beauty and the beast moment in Obelus history. Large fingers carefully caressed her smaller petite ones.
“I’ve brought food and a message.” He shared, letting her hand go and taking a seat beside her—adoration was seen in his eyes for the woman, and those who knew Korag the Great, knew he desired to please no other.
Narcissa and her band of half-hungover maids escort the fellows to a large chamber used specifically for their purposes; where slaves are kept in a warm room to the side, ready for use at any point - be it for cleaning or sticking. The blonde won't participate, but will quietly retire to her chambers. She'd never let an orc inside her. Only a true Northman who can best her in a fight - should such a fellow even exist. Helga and Beula, breastless and chubby themselves, put a claim on Krognak and take the most good looking fellow for themselves. The poor dear of an orc is in for quite the battle with those two.
Meanwhile....
Widsith stands behind the throne, his great beast of a figure seeming remarkably like the polar bear at his sister's knees. She is in a war and has precious few allies. A part of her considers standing when Korag and his chosen two thump and tap into the room. Alas, she decides to remain seated, all the while her dark eyes look over the orc and his companions. Gently, she commands, "Abagor, away." The beast heaves himself to his paws and steps away, giving Korag the Great just enough room to slip past.
Her hand slips obediently to his. She accepts the kisses with a smile in her gaze and a smile that tantalizes towards sweet, yet offers no true promise of any returned affection. "Would it please you to eat as we hear the message, my dear ally?" As always she sounds warm, yet stern; like a particularly tough teacher who longs to give approval to the right pupil. Jovina is no fool. She knows how he feels. Everyone does, yet she's never showed in return. That's where her power lies - in the mystery. Will she reject him? Accept an ogre?
After his palm has left hers, she turns to more fully face Korag, as if his response was one that could make her day complete.
Meanwhile....
Widsith stands behind the throne, his great beast of a figure seeming remarkably like the polar bear at his sister's knees. She is in a war and has precious few allies. A part of her considers standing when Korag and his chosen two thump and tap into the room. Alas, she decides to remain seated, all the while her dark eyes look over the orc and his companions. Gently, she commands, "Abagor, away." The beast heaves himself to his paws and steps away, giving Korag the Great just enough room to slip past.
Her hand slips obediently to his. She accepts the kisses with a smile in her gaze and a smile that tantalizes towards sweet, yet offers no true promise of any returned affection. "Would it please you to eat as we hear the message, my dear ally?" As always she sounds warm, yet stern; like a particularly tough teacher who longs to give approval to the right pupil. Jovina is no fool. She knows how he feels. Everyone does, yet she's never showed in return. That's where her power lies - in the mystery. Will she reject him? Accept an ogre?
After his palm has left hers, she turns to more fully face Korag, as if his response was one that could make her day complete.
Grommock gave a nod to the bear, Widsith. In actuality, the Elder Orc and the Norse Eunuch were quite alike in personalities. Unlike Narcissa and Krognak who were both young minded and drew attention to themselves, these two understood that in order for their respective kingdoms to survive they had to protect the reputation of the crown. This means Jovina and Korag had to genuinely like each other. So far so good, Grommock thought.
Korag was different than any other Orc Grommock had known in his ninety years of living and serving the Axiom and Belgorian Empire. The Lord of the Forge understood how to be ruthless in his rule; and such had won the hearts of the Orc people; yet he was gentle with his women and eloquent in courts with his tongue; such made him a problem in the north. As long as Korag the Great supported Jovina as an ally, King Joseph and his elven minions would never stand a chance in defeating the north.
"I think it would be wise if we ate first. For what I have to share might turn our appetites afterward." Korag said. "With winter here, will have a long time to take in this foreign message."
His decision was decided and he had been in this position countless times before. It had been at least a few hundred meals, he and Jovina had shared that he could remember. In truth, the orcs were no strangers to the Nordic lands, even a hundred years before Korag was crowned king. Belogra was originally the home of his own people. The orcs were the original rulers of the north, thus when the will of man grew in number, the orcs had no chance in reclaiming this historic city that was rightfully their own. Korag was not like the other rulers before him, he did not want to conquer all of the north; he wanted to share the north with those he loved and found worthy of it, Jovina being that. Besides it was hard enough to keep his own city fed let only hers.
"Do not look so sad, Abagor...we wont be eating bear tonight." He grinned.
The polar bear whined and knew its name and he knew the term eat. Unfortunately, the last meal he and Jovina shared was over one like its own. Meat itself was hard to come by in the north, especially now.
An hour later, they all sat at the royal table. Korag had his two companions and Jovina had her brother and Centuaress slave. For this particular engagement, Narcissa was called in along with Krognak, his younger brother. It was just a proper thing to dine with the family present; a northern tradition.
Korgnak looked exhausted, he was still a bit excited from fighting off the fat legged Shield Maidens who desired him like fresh meat.
"Brother, you tease me like a dirty whore. First you offer me as a sacrifice to the Nordic wolves, then you fatten me up and feed me.” He grinned. "And evenin’, your grace." He bowed to Jovina, ignoring Widsith.
"Sit down and shut your tusks for once." Korag ordered. "Behave yourself in the presence of adults."
Krognak said nothing more. Grommock just shook his head and sipped his ale. They were all waiting for the main dish to arrive, hoping that the first fruits of the elk could be prepared by Jovina's best cooks.
Lash'na The Red was not a warrior like her companions, she was young also, only fourteen. But she had often been here as an important piece on Korag's side. The Spiritist was gifted in other ways. She admired the Queen's choice fragrance; being blind she could only smell each individual, at least in the physical realm. She visualized things uniquely. "That is a lovely scent, your grace." She said shyly.
Korag was different than any other Orc Grommock had known in his ninety years of living and serving the Axiom and Belgorian Empire. The Lord of the Forge understood how to be ruthless in his rule; and such had won the hearts of the Orc people; yet he was gentle with his women and eloquent in courts with his tongue; such made him a problem in the north. As long as Korag the Great supported Jovina as an ally, King Joseph and his elven minions would never stand a chance in defeating the north.
"I think it would be wise if we ate first. For what I have to share might turn our appetites afterward." Korag said. "With winter here, will have a long time to take in this foreign message."
His decision was decided and he had been in this position countless times before. It had been at least a few hundred meals, he and Jovina had shared that he could remember. In truth, the orcs were no strangers to the Nordic lands, even a hundred years before Korag was crowned king. Belogra was originally the home of his own people. The orcs were the original rulers of the north, thus when the will of man grew in number, the orcs had no chance in reclaiming this historic city that was rightfully their own. Korag was not like the other rulers before him, he did not want to conquer all of the north; he wanted to share the north with those he loved and found worthy of it, Jovina being that. Besides it was hard enough to keep his own city fed let only hers.
"Do not look so sad, Abagor...we wont be eating bear tonight." He grinned.
The polar bear whined and knew its name and he knew the term eat. Unfortunately, the last meal he and Jovina shared was over one like its own. Meat itself was hard to come by in the north, especially now.
An hour later, they all sat at the royal table. Korag had his two companions and Jovina had her brother and Centuaress slave. For this particular engagement, Narcissa was called in along with Krognak, his younger brother. It was just a proper thing to dine with the family present; a northern tradition.
Korgnak looked exhausted, he was still a bit excited from fighting off the fat legged Shield Maidens who desired him like fresh meat.
"Brother, you tease me like a dirty whore. First you offer me as a sacrifice to the Nordic wolves, then you fatten me up and feed me.” He grinned. "And evenin’, your grace." He bowed to Jovina, ignoring Widsith.
"Sit down and shut your tusks for once." Korag ordered. "Behave yourself in the presence of adults."
Krognak said nothing more. Grommock just shook his head and sipped his ale. They were all waiting for the main dish to arrive, hoping that the first fruits of the elk could be prepared by Jovina's best cooks.
Lash'na The Red was not a warrior like her companions, she was young also, only fourteen. But she had often been here as an important piece on Korag's side. The Spiritist was gifted in other ways. She admired the Queen's choice fragrance; being blind she could only smell each individual, at least in the physical realm. She visualized things uniquely. "That is a lovely scent, your grace." She said shyly.
Widsith returns the nod. Though he's not worried about an attack from their allies, he does look them over carefully; trying to find any tensions that he might address. With the ground as barren as Widisth's stump, the north only had meat this time of year. The fact that it was scarce meant that Jovina had to cut rations to all of her non-warriors. Namely, the slaves of the castle and of the few hundred households scattered about the nation. Each northerner was unique. Some prefer to live on their own miles and miles from their neighbors, while others were from generations of friends and live in closely knit communities where everyone knows who they're marrying by the time they're born - since there are only two or three people not closely related to them anyway.
Abagor's whine silences after a moment. Being a bear, he doesn't need to have any sense of self respect or awareness. He's free to share his thoughts and feelings as he can. As for Jovina, she envies the bear far more secretly than Widsith does a male with a stiffy. She slides from her seat and leads the way to the already prepared dining chamber. After a few hundred meals, she's learned to be prepared. What takes time is the unloading and proper preparation of the meat. Only a quarter of it is used. Some stored flour and barley are incorporated to make some noodles. Thanks to her slaves' ingenuity, they've discovered noodles, rice, and other different, preservable substances to make dishes a bit more intriguing. At least until the spice arrives.
Using incredible balance and a rightly set cutting board, Masar'th sets the dishes upon her back and delivers one to each of the ladies and gentle-orcs at the table. Narcissa lets herself into the hall less than a moment after she's summoned, secretly disdaining the presence of their allies. The fact that they need to seek help beyond their own kingdom is a scar on her pride. "Couldn't get off to Helga, huh?" Narcissa taunts Krognak. It's not them she hates, personally. They're good enough. "Even beautious Beula didn't do it for you? They've so been looking forward to your visit. They say they want to give you beautiful little mongrels." She glances at Korag from the corner of his eye, curious what he'd say to such a pairing.
Jovina doesn't try to stop little Cissy. In the past, she's learned it's more trouble than it's worth to try. "That'd give you more reasons to visit, Korag," Narcissa continues. "You could visit your little half-breed nephews. Maybe you could even make them some cousins, sometime. Your sons will be excellent brutes, as strong as they are magnificent."
Through it all, the queen of the north doesn't allow herself to blush. She looks over Korag's features like a bird does to a potential mate. Scrutinizing, considerate, and careful. The woman allows a smile to settle on her lips. "They would be quite fantastic," she agrees with a thoughtful tone, one that seems to imply, who would their mother be?
The topic changes almost at once. "Thank you, Lash'na. It's sage. My healer insists it chases away bad spirits - part of me is hoping it works on elves." Her tone offers a gentle, tired, chuckle. "I'd be happy to give you some as a gift, if you would like." She waits to hear a response, of course, before looking directly at Korag, implying she's ready for the message. Those on her side of the table fall silent, knowing exactly what their beloved sister and queen would like.
Abagor's whine silences after a moment. Being a bear, he doesn't need to have any sense of self respect or awareness. He's free to share his thoughts and feelings as he can. As for Jovina, she envies the bear far more secretly than Widsith does a male with a stiffy. She slides from her seat and leads the way to the already prepared dining chamber. After a few hundred meals, she's learned to be prepared. What takes time is the unloading and proper preparation of the meat. Only a quarter of it is used. Some stored flour and barley are incorporated to make some noodles. Thanks to her slaves' ingenuity, they've discovered noodles, rice, and other different, preservable substances to make dishes a bit more intriguing. At least until the spice arrives.
Using incredible balance and a rightly set cutting board, Masar'th sets the dishes upon her back and delivers one to each of the ladies and gentle-orcs at the table. Narcissa lets herself into the hall less than a moment after she's summoned, secretly disdaining the presence of their allies. The fact that they need to seek help beyond their own kingdom is a scar on her pride. "Couldn't get off to Helga, huh?" Narcissa taunts Krognak. It's not them she hates, personally. They're good enough. "Even beautious Beula didn't do it for you? They've so been looking forward to your visit. They say they want to give you beautiful little mongrels." She glances at Korag from the corner of his eye, curious what he'd say to such a pairing.
Jovina doesn't try to stop little Cissy. In the past, she's learned it's more trouble than it's worth to try. "That'd give you more reasons to visit, Korag," Narcissa continues. "You could visit your little half-breed nephews. Maybe you could even make them some cousins, sometime. Your sons will be excellent brutes, as strong as they are magnificent."
Through it all, the queen of the north doesn't allow herself to blush. She looks over Korag's features like a bird does to a potential mate. Scrutinizing, considerate, and careful. The woman allows a smile to settle on her lips. "They would be quite fantastic," she agrees with a thoughtful tone, one that seems to imply, who would their mother be?
The topic changes almost at once. "Thank you, Lash'na. It's sage. My healer insists it chases away bad spirits - part of me is hoping it works on elves." Her tone offers a gentle, tired, chuckle. "I'd be happy to give you some as a gift, if you would like." She waits to hear a response, of course, before looking directly at Korag, implying she's ready for the message. Those on her side of the table fall silent, knowing exactly what their beloved sister and queen would like.
It seemed like an eternity getting to this point. Supper was meaningful in their culture. When the families finally arrived at the main dining table, all members of both families took their seats, finally able to relax like always. There was no outsiders at this table, but only those who fought and shed blood beside Korag The Great and Jovina the Lady of the North.
A proud memory soothed Korag’s mind while he waited. He thought back and reminisced: even though, Jovina was a Lady, she was still good with a sword. He smiled and remembered a few years back when Morcella the Barbarian Queen marched to Belgora and challenged Jovina’s rule to claim her throne. She came with thirty in her number determined to take down their hundreds if Jovina did not come out of her castle.
Jovina glady accepted her duel and the barbarian was cut down in three moves then brutally beheaded—in tribute to the woman’s own barbaric style. When the thirty cried at their leaders death they lost their minds and all rushed in. Korag, Jovina, Grommack, Narcissa, Widsith and even Krognak cut all thirty down and bathed in barbarian blood; while all of Korag and Jovina’s armies stood olive eyed and watched. It was after that moment that Korag loved her.
The Centauress finally arrived with steaming plates. She was a good servant, making sure she filled all of their plates properly. The Orcs in Korag’s main circle—his kin, Grommack and the Red Orc never disrespected Masar’th but treated her kindly, even thanking her for her service. Narcissa came late, a smug look on her face—with choice words for Krognak.
“I don’t mind taking Helga and Beula for wives. It’s you I didn’t want.” Krognak sipped his ale, finally getting a good one in.
Somehow his words tickled both of Grommack and Widsith’s stomachs—they found the comment amusing. Then Narcissa turned to the olive hued King, he looked annoyed for the moment at these two siblings but took her words to be genuine for once; albeit the talk of impregnating a Nordic woman made him slightly uncomfortable. To make things worst, Jovina had openly encouraged her. They enjoyed to play chess with his mind. He looked at his plate untouched and was losing his appetite before the meeting even started. Not because he did not desire that outcome but they were at war and he could not have Jovina’s thighs weak at a time like this.
When the subject was changed, Korag was thankful. Lash’na smiled sweetly at the Queen’s offer. “I’d love that, your grace.” She said.
Then all eyes fell before Korag. He was wondering why no one bothered eating. “All of this delicious food on the table and you all are looking at me? Very well. Lash’na...show avhem avhe viukion.” He spoke some of that in orchish dialect—also known as Black Speech. Jovina and her relatives would have lived long enough around the Orcs to know it.
Lash’na nodded and stood from her seat. The gem on her waist that always glowed red turned into a bright blue color. The torches all blew out and it felt cold in the room—-everything dark accept the glow from the Spiritist’s belt.
Then a scream was heard. It would shake the entire structure. A female mermaid appeared but it was her soul ported here from another dimension. She was terrified.
“Who brought me here?!” The former Sea Queen cried.
“It is I, the Speaker. Tell us what happened to you, Isabella? The spirits of your people cry out to me in the Dark Realm.” Lash’na said. “Who did this to you?”
“I-it was the spice traders from the south. They murdered me and my people by the hundred. Even my daughter was shown no mercy. They are demons! A caravan of death. And they wield dangerous magic, blades that turn flesh into ash and fire....” Isabella went on but her voice was getting weaker. She had used up so much energy already and her voice softly faded.
“Thank you for this warning. Rest now, Isabella.” The Red Orc finished. “You have given us all something to consider. Thus before you go...” Lash’na increased her strength through the stone offering the Sea Queen enough energy to answer one last question. “Is there anything you’d like to ask her while I have her soul in this realm?” She said to her Lord Korag and her Lady Jovina.
A proud memory soothed Korag’s mind while he waited. He thought back and reminisced: even though, Jovina was a Lady, she was still good with a sword. He smiled and remembered a few years back when Morcella the Barbarian Queen marched to Belgora and challenged Jovina’s rule to claim her throne. She came with thirty in her number determined to take down their hundreds if Jovina did not come out of her castle.
Jovina glady accepted her duel and the barbarian was cut down in three moves then brutally beheaded—in tribute to the woman’s own barbaric style. When the thirty cried at their leaders death they lost their minds and all rushed in. Korag, Jovina, Grommack, Narcissa, Widsith and even Krognak cut all thirty down and bathed in barbarian blood; while all of Korag and Jovina’s armies stood olive eyed and watched. It was after that moment that Korag loved her.
The Centauress finally arrived with steaming plates. She was a good servant, making sure she filled all of their plates properly. The Orcs in Korag’s main circle—his kin, Grommack and the Red Orc never disrespected Masar’th but treated her kindly, even thanking her for her service. Narcissa came late, a smug look on her face—with choice words for Krognak.
“I don’t mind taking Helga and Beula for wives. It’s you I didn’t want.” Krognak sipped his ale, finally getting a good one in.
Somehow his words tickled both of Grommack and Widsith’s stomachs—they found the comment amusing. Then Narcissa turned to the olive hued King, he looked annoyed for the moment at these two siblings but took her words to be genuine for once; albeit the talk of impregnating a Nordic woman made him slightly uncomfortable. To make things worst, Jovina had openly encouraged her. They enjoyed to play chess with his mind. He looked at his plate untouched and was losing his appetite before the meeting even started. Not because he did not desire that outcome but they were at war and he could not have Jovina’s thighs weak at a time like this.
When the subject was changed, Korag was thankful. Lash’na smiled sweetly at the Queen’s offer. “I’d love that, your grace.” She said.
Then all eyes fell before Korag. He was wondering why no one bothered eating. “All of this delicious food on the table and you all are looking at me? Very well. Lash’na...show avhem avhe viukion.” He spoke some of that in orchish dialect—also known as Black Speech. Jovina and her relatives would have lived long enough around the Orcs to know it.
Lash’na nodded and stood from her seat. The gem on her waist that always glowed red turned into a bright blue color. The torches all blew out and it felt cold in the room—-everything dark accept the glow from the Spiritist’s belt.
Then a scream was heard. It would shake the entire structure. A female mermaid appeared but it was her soul ported here from another dimension. She was terrified.
“Who brought me here?!” The former Sea Queen cried.
“It is I, the Speaker. Tell us what happened to you, Isabella? The spirits of your people cry out to me in the Dark Realm.” Lash’na said. “Who did this to you?”
“I-it was the spice traders from the south. They murdered me and my people by the hundred. Even my daughter was shown no mercy. They are demons! A caravan of death. And they wield dangerous magic, blades that turn flesh into ash and fire....” Isabella went on but her voice was getting weaker. She had used up so much energy already and her voice softly faded.
“Thank you for this warning. Rest now, Isabella.” The Red Orc finished. “You have given us all something to consider. Thus before you go...” Lash’na increased her strength through the stone offering the Sea Queen enough energy to answer one last question. “Is there anything you’d like to ask her while I have her soul in this realm?” She said to her Lord Korag and her Lady Jovina.
In the silence, Widsith had begun to eat. He won't make any comment of his sisters as they speak so freely around Korag. Are they teasing him? The bear of a man wonders. All the while, Abagor wanders over and Widsith begins idly feeding the polar bear from his plate. His eye still blessed with sight narrows at the change of hue and his chomping slows from a barbaric gnash to a softer and more considerate chomp.
The centauress would have spilled all their food if they had heard the message first. She balks and skirts against the wall at the sudden scream. Likewise, Narcissa lifts her hands to cover her ears and Abagor shoves his head against the ground. Jovina alone retains enough composure to stare unflinchingly at the spirit and fully take in the fallen queen's speech. Are ghosts always so dramatic? Her brow furrows in thought and eyes seem to glance slightly to the side, at her quivering slave. For a moment she feels repulsed at such open weakness. "Yes," she says, standing. The matriarch aims to look directly at Isabella. "Exactly why did they murder you?" She wishes to hear both sides of the story. While elegant and fatal when met in the water, she knows mermaids to be clumsy on a ship or land. Having a hundred of them in one place wouldn't make for too difficult a slaughter.
Narcissa pulls herself from her shock and begins to laugh. "Sounds like you got quite the poking, you wet sop. Did they harpoon you?" She begins to look around, as if seeking wounds that lead to the merqueen's death. "Or were you stupid enough to board a ship? You know your waddle is as effective as a penguin, right?"
The centauress would have spilled all their food if they had heard the message first. She balks and skirts against the wall at the sudden scream. Likewise, Narcissa lifts her hands to cover her ears and Abagor shoves his head against the ground. Jovina alone retains enough composure to stare unflinchingly at the spirit and fully take in the fallen queen's speech. Are ghosts always so dramatic? Her brow furrows in thought and eyes seem to glance slightly to the side, at her quivering slave. For a moment she feels repulsed at such open weakness. "Yes," she says, standing. The matriarch aims to look directly at Isabella. "Exactly why did they murder you?" She wishes to hear both sides of the story. While elegant and fatal when met in the water, she knows mermaids to be clumsy on a ship or land. Having a hundred of them in one place wouldn't make for too difficult a slaughter.
Narcissa pulls herself from her shock and begins to laugh. "Sounds like you got quite the poking, you wet sop. Did they harpoon you?" She begins to look around, as if seeking wounds that lead to the merqueen's death. "Or were you stupid enough to board a ship? You know your waddle is as effective as a penguin, right?"
Darkness continued to linger in the eating chamber and the frosty wind was felt from outside. Korag gave Masar’th a nod once she got herself together. The Centauress smiled sweetly, her hips swaying and wetting inwardly all of a sudden, as she moved flirtatiously at his direction. She was sensual by nature, but Korag did not call her over for such. The Orc King frowned at her weakeness. “The door, shut it. Else my Queen will catch fever.” He whispered, not to disturb this meeting—albeit he knew she would hear him. He smiled at Jovina after he said such; he wanted the Norse Lady to know that he cared and he was not ashame to call her his Queen—in fact this was the first time she or anyone had heard him say that. Marar’th nodded and understood, immediately doing as she was told.
Then Jovina spoke. Everyone listened. Her kin seemed to grow more confident, Narcissa feeding off her sister’s strength. Isabella shivered, her spirit weak. After Narcissa’s harsh words, Krognak chimed in to aid in the former sea queen’s demise.
“You said they wield blades that turn humanoids into ash and fire? So they were cooking your people on sea? Help us understand.” He grinned. “I am sure they will have much meat to bring us.”
“Enough!” Korag said. “Let Jovina’s question be answered. I swear you two should go find a room after this.” He said to the siblings.
Isabella humbled herself and accepted this shame. She was spirit now, the first Queen to die in the five realms. The Naga tribes will surely have her sea and she will be the first highborn in a century to lose. “It is fine. I deserve to be criticized for my mistake. I admit,” She turned to look at Jovina. “I underestimated them and requested a sacrifice. Then the wood elf cut me down and that is the last thing I remember.”
Then Jovina spoke. Everyone listened. Her kin seemed to grow more confident, Narcissa feeding off her sister’s strength. Isabella shivered, her spirit weak. After Narcissa’s harsh words, Krognak chimed in to aid in the former sea queen’s demise.
“You said they wield blades that turn humanoids into ash and fire? So they were cooking your people on sea? Help us understand.” He grinned. “I am sure they will have much meat to bring us.”
“Enough!” Korag said. “Let Jovina’s question be answered. I swear you two should go find a room after this.” He said to the siblings.
Isabella humbled herself and accepted this shame. She was spirit now, the first Queen to die in the five realms. The Naga tribes will surely have her sea and she will be the first highborn in a century to lose. “It is fine. I deserve to be criticized for my mistake. I admit,” She turned to look at Jovina. “I underestimated them and requested a sacrifice. Then the wood elf cut me down and that is the last thing I remember.”
Of course, Masar'th does as the orc bid, all the while feeling a bit rejected at his dismissal and silly to believe she even had a chance. Luck was on the centauress' side, for if Jovina had seen such continued weakness and even an attempt to flirt with Korag, she would have sent her slave far, far away to less pleasant circumstances.
Narcissa smirks, accepting Krognak's comment and even openly cackling. "I don't mind salt on my food, but that would be salt in my food for how long those mers have been marinating." Korag's sudden call cuts the younger siblings off from entering an entirely unnecessary tangent.
The queen's pale face remains calm and gently inquiring, for that's what the former merqueen wishes to see to remain compliant. "Thank you for your compliance. May you find peace, my lady." It won't kill her to show respect to the felled matriarch, so she does. Assuming Isabella vanishes to whatever pit that will claim her, the queen in the north begins to speak.
"A wood elf." She says with a frown, knowing that the vast majority of the fair folk are under King Joseph's reign. "What would Joseph gain by killing the sea queen," she asks to herself and the table rather thoughtfully. "Did he send a spy to spice traders to steal them for himself? Perhaps she stole one sacrifice too many." She doesn't trail off, but allows her eyes to seek each member of the table, eager to hear their thoughts on the matter.
Narcissa, of course, is quick to offer her opinion. "The idiot asked for a sacrifice. Elves are pussies, but they sure love a play on words. The dumb sot should have specified who the sacrifice ought to be." She laughs, "It's probably the best joke an elf has or will ever tell. I'd love to shake its hand before I decapitate it."
Widsith has little love for the creatures that took half of his sight. "I doubt it was Joseph himself. He's too noble for something as underhanded as a spy or an assassination. It could be someone else. What do you know of his court, Lord Korag? Does he have any high ranking elves that could or would command an assassin?"
Narcissa smirks, accepting Krognak's comment and even openly cackling. "I don't mind salt on my food, but that would be salt in my food for how long those mers have been marinating." Korag's sudden call cuts the younger siblings off from entering an entirely unnecessary tangent.
The queen's pale face remains calm and gently inquiring, for that's what the former merqueen wishes to see to remain compliant. "Thank you for your compliance. May you find peace, my lady." It won't kill her to show respect to the felled matriarch, so she does. Assuming Isabella vanishes to whatever pit that will claim her, the queen in the north begins to speak.
"A wood elf." She says with a frown, knowing that the vast majority of the fair folk are under King Joseph's reign. "What would Joseph gain by killing the sea queen," she asks to herself and the table rather thoughtfully. "Did he send a spy to spice traders to steal them for himself? Perhaps she stole one sacrifice too many." She doesn't trail off, but allows her eyes to seek each member of the table, eager to hear their thoughts on the matter.
Narcissa, of course, is quick to offer her opinion. "The idiot asked for a sacrifice. Elves are pussies, but they sure love a play on words. The dumb sot should have specified who the sacrifice ought to be." She laughs, "It's probably the best joke an elf has or will ever tell. I'd love to shake its hand before I decapitate it."
Widsith has little love for the creatures that took half of his sight. "I doubt it was Joseph himself. He's too noble for something as underhanded as a spy or an assassination. It could be someone else. What do you know of his court, Lord Korag? Does he have any high ranking elves that could or would command an assassin?"
Lash’na The Red Orc, could hold the tormented spirit no longer. The sweet girl smiled and rubbed the blue stone on her waist, gently, with virgin fingers as tender and uncalloused as a babies hands; soft and green, pure and never needing a sword to bruise them. She needed no earthly weapons to defend herself—a legion of ancient Orcs could becon at her very call, if need be. “Have rest now, Isabella. May your failure inspire many Queen’s to not have the same fate.” The girl said coldly.
Isabella screamed again as her worthless soul was snatched back into whatever oblivion tormented her and judged her for her wicked and foolish ways. The torches on the walls lit up again and things went back to normal—heat was felt again from the fireplace and the darkness was now a soothing and dim lit lighting. Everyone went back to eating. Jovina had asked a proper question. Of course Narcissa criticized Isabella again, thus Widsith had the wisest question.
“For a blind eunuch, we hoped you still be smart. Did the elves take half of your brain as well?” Krognak said. His excitement was noticed underneath the table when he heard Narcissa’s laughter. With enough ale in him tonight he’d sex her true. She was looking finer as the night got on, like all Nordic she dogs. “Of course he does. He is in bed with the Elf Queen, you idiot!”
Korag sighed. The King was quiet and his look was calm. He looked over at Jovina and could feel his Queen shaking her head. “Good point Widsith. The thing about Assassins...it’s hard to know until the Nightblade makes the daring move. It shows how little you know about strategy, brother.” He spat at Krognak. “But we know one this for sure, King Joseph is now helping the wench in the forest because my troll army was recently cut down and defeated.”
Lash’na smiled, glad that she could be of service to inform her King of all the dead things that cry out to her in the dark realm. She sipped her ale proud to serve Korag—the only Lord that can make her insides tingle with purpose.
“Speaking of assassin’s, I have one last option that will hopefully weaken and cripple Joseph’s forces in the south. He sent one of his Knights to lead a quarter of his army and I’ve been watching Commander Delilah’s progress from Lash’na’s dark stone.”
Lash’na nodded and activated the now red gem on her waist again—it was only blue when she held or commanded spirits. This time it did not have the dramatic effect as bringing a creatures soul back to the physical realm, but the Drows glass eye was telepathically connected to the North Star—a portal in Korag’s castle in Axiom. All would see the dark elf surrounded by humans, elves and the Demon Caravan travelers on the coast through Lash’na’s red eye. The Drow himself could now also see and hear Korag and his company in their dining chamber.
“Dezus...now is the time to make your move.” Korag sneered.
The End
Isabella screamed again as her worthless soul was snatched back into whatever oblivion tormented her and judged her for her wicked and foolish ways. The torches on the walls lit up again and things went back to normal—heat was felt again from the fireplace and the darkness was now a soothing and dim lit lighting. Everyone went back to eating. Jovina had asked a proper question. Of course Narcissa criticized Isabella again, thus Widsith had the wisest question.
“For a blind eunuch, we hoped you still be smart. Did the elves take half of your brain as well?” Krognak said. His excitement was noticed underneath the table when he heard Narcissa’s laughter. With enough ale in him tonight he’d sex her true. She was looking finer as the night got on, like all Nordic she dogs. “Of course he does. He is in bed with the Elf Queen, you idiot!”
Korag sighed. The King was quiet and his look was calm. He looked over at Jovina and could feel his Queen shaking her head. “Good point Widsith. The thing about Assassins...it’s hard to know until the Nightblade makes the daring move. It shows how little you know about strategy, brother.” He spat at Krognak. “But we know one this for sure, King Joseph is now helping the wench in the forest because my troll army was recently cut down and defeated.”
Lash’na smiled, glad that she could be of service to inform her King of all the dead things that cry out to her in the dark realm. She sipped her ale proud to serve Korag—the only Lord that can make her insides tingle with purpose.
“Speaking of assassin’s, I have one last option that will hopefully weaken and cripple Joseph’s forces in the south. He sent one of his Knights to lead a quarter of his army and I’ve been watching Commander Delilah’s progress from Lash’na’s dark stone.”
Lash’na nodded and activated the now red gem on her waist again—it was only blue when she held or commanded spirits. This time it did not have the dramatic effect as bringing a creatures soul back to the physical realm, but the Drows glass eye was telepathically connected to the North Star—a portal in Korag’s castle in Axiom. All would see the dark elf surrounded by humans, elves and the Demon Caravan travelers on the coast through Lash’na’s red eye. The Drow himself could now also see and hear Korag and his company in their dining chamber.
“Dezus...now is the time to make your move.” Korag sneered.
The End
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