Thundering hooves

Vogir grinds his back heel into the dirt and adjusts his grip on his magical longbow.

The battle raging below, though fraught, seems under control. Orestes, Indigo and the new dwarf are handling the remaining ‘Dark riders’, leaving he and Zavia to watch for whoever’s approaching.

He’d assumed it was just the two unencountered ‘Dark riders’ but the crescendoing volume of the hoof beats was making him less and less sure.

Vogir’s earlier confidence has become a distant memory.

Who’s rushing toward them?

Can his martialistic friends finish their opponents before more enemies arrive?

A feeling of dread washes over him.

The clever ambush they’d set to kill a couple of the ‘Dark riders’ now seems more of a trap for themselves.

Vogir’s sweaty palms force him to readjust his grip yet again.

Help from above

Vogir nocks another arrow and releases it into the melee below. These ‘Dark-riders’ don’t seem so tough. (Especially when he can pick them off from range, atop a cliff-face.)

They were chasing two, but have attracted five of the lizardy bastards. Not really a surprise, as they’d not only pursued them but alerted them of their presence.

Still, five vs. five weren’t too scary odds.

Orestes, Indigo and the newly joined dwarf; Mjoorvitnir were handling the hand-to-hand fighting, while the gnomess; Zavia and he played interference.

True, his arrows weren’t bothering the Dark-riders too much and Zavia’s illusions were being breached…

Still, the battle was definitely going their way.

Two or three of these ‘relentless’ dragon-borns were already down and even the terminally reckless Orestes was still on his trotters.

Vogir’s smile falters though as he hears the thundering sound of horses hooves approach from the distance…

Aurelius the never-was-chief

‘Another story!’ cried the grubby, little orc child.

Wurgoth smiled down on his grandson. He’d had lots of them but this one was his favorite.

Young but clever.

‘Calm yourself Ori. I’ll tell you one more… Long ago, before even I was born, there was a battle. The first battle ever fought by the reunited tribes.

Five tribes were there. The ‘Broken lancers’ the ‘Blood-bottlers’, the ‘Meat-drippers’, the ‘Flesh-lump-eaters’ and the ‘Bone-crunchers’. All led by their chiefs…

All except our tribe. Chief Orestes had gone to slay the dragon and left his most trusted general: Aurelius in command of his army.’

Ori sat up. ‘That’s not true! Chief Orestes did lead his army into battle!’

The bald headed Wurgoth smiled. ‘Yes, you're right but he wasn’t there yet.’

Repositioning his aching bones in the sturdy, wooden chair, the old orc continued.

‘The four chiefs of the other tribes met with Aurelius and each one bowed to him and took his instruction without dissent.

Each of the five mighty armies was divided into two parts and the ten divisions were lead by a chief or general.

Aurelius the wise lead one of the Broken lance armies and the mighty Bodan the other. Each commanded a hundred and fifty men. Boden though, like the other chiefs and generals obeyed Aurelius’ orders without question.

Each of the ten armies divided themselves around Khajag: City of the Blue prince Narcissus.

A magical barrier prevented living creatures from passing through an evil, magical barrier of lightning.

Each leader was allowed to decide upon their own plan of attack but they all knew that they answered to Aurelius.

On his signal the battle was started. Some of the groups attacked from distance with arrows. Some tried to topple the spindly towers that housed the magic. Some even charged the lightning field!

Aurelius was cleverer though. With shields raised, the majority of his division advanced upon the shimmering blue field of energy. A smaller group fired arrow upon arrow at the two figures atop the tower, preventing the evil Black-cloak from using his foul magics on the advancing orcs.

The Dragon-borns fired crossbow bolts but Aurelius’ men held their shields together so no bolts could penetrate.

When they got to the crackling energy screen, they halted and thrust their long spears through.’

Wurgoth clears his throat as he sees his little grandson’s eyes start to droop.

‘The Dragon-borns were no cowards. They wanted to fight and so they advanced. They passed though the energy shield to get to our warriors. They were seemingly unhurt but this didn’t surprise Aurelius. In fact Aurelius smiled, for now, in the open, his Broken-lancers outnumbered the spread thin troops of the Dragon.

The battle was furious and unrelenting. Orc and Dragon-born alike died by the sword and spear. Aurelius though had superior numbers and the Dragon-borns had no reinforcements because they were fighting battles on all sides.’

‘And then what happened?’ Asked the young orc in awe.

‘Then?’ Wurgoth smiled. ‘Then, when only a score of Dragon-borns were still standing on our side of the magical barrier, Orestes appeared as if from nowhere atop the tower nearest them and struck the head clean from the shoulders of the Black-cloak there.’

‘Where did he come from?!’ squealed the little orc.

‘Well, that’s a different story but his actions caused the magical barrier to fail. Aurelius took advantage of the momentary confusion and charged through. He and his men killed every Black-cloak and Dragon-born they encountered but more importantly, they broke into the nearby towers and killed each mystic powering the barrier. Soon the disciplined Dragon-borns had to break formation and as soon as they did that, they were lost.’

The old orc pulls himself to his feet and kisses his grandson on the forehead.

‘Many orcs died in that battle but it was a great victory. The tribes reunited. Thereanthor’s son killed and enough treasure found to provide all the weapons needed to fight the coming war. Your great, great grandfather fought that day. He was barely more than a boy himself but he always said it was the proudest day of his life.’

The little orc’s eyes were now nearly closed, ‘Was wise Aurelius ever a chief?’

‘No my grandson. Never a chief but instead he became so much more. He became the Chief of chiefs’… ‘But that’s also another story’.

Horde of the ring

Aurelius: general of Orestes' army, stares blearily at his battle plans. It shows a small city approximately a mile in from the circle of slender towers that surround it.
A ring of death.

The vast majority of Narcissus’ defending forces will be positioned just within this circle of blue light.

If he can get past that first barrier, the city itself will be no obstacle.

But how?

His attention is pulled jarringly from his plans by a young orc guard.

‘Sir, we have some new arrivals.’

The boy looks a bit unnerved but rather than ask him to expand upon his statement, Aurelius, flanked by several of his trusted men, strides past the boy and out of his tent.

It is Aurelius though who is shocked now.

In front of him are hundreds of armed orcs.

Orcs baring the crimson and black tribal markings of the ‘Blood-bottlers’.

Looking around, Aurelius finally finds the broken-tusked, smiling face of Auzoux: Newly crowned chief of his tribe.

‘Auzoux, what are you doing here?’

Auzoux is larger and younger than Aurelius but his intelligence is quite apparent.

‘When we were packing up in preparation to move out, a few of my men noticed your group heading away from the main compound. Away but without your women, children and weak. I confronted the few warriors that you’d left behind and they told me of your plan.’

Aurelius looks up into Auziux’ battle-scarred face but lets the other orc continue talking.

‘I’ve brought about half my force. Three hundred fighting orcs. If you’re going to war, we want in!’

Aurelius can’t help but smile. What seemed like hopeless odds have just changed dramatically.

‘I’m glad that makes you happy, as all the other chiefs are just a few hours behind me. Knut leads over two hundred of his Meat-drippers. Ragnar, from the Flesh-lump-eaters has about the same and Unger was bringing up the rear with a hundred of his Bone-crunchers!’

Aurelius steps forward and grasps Auzoux by the forearm. ‘My friend, you are more than welcome. You are all most welcome. With over a thousand orcs, this battle will go down in history!’

A battle well thought

The Blue prince: Narcissus continues to flap his wings, even as he steadies his breathing. Should he hold his position, high above his aggressors or should he dive into his secure den?

It’s only been a few moments since the attack began but already his personal guard’s been devastated.

Even one of his devils has been dismissed.

Still, his other troops will already be on their way to help.
...

His troops that are all currently positioned half-a-mile away, spread between all the towers.

It’ll take them too long to get back!

And, if they leave their defensive positions, the advancing orc horde will have an easier time breaching the cities defences.

…

Now Narcissus understands the mercenaries timing.

They had depended upon his arrogance.

He had allowed them into the heart of his kingdom.
Into his very throne room, while the majority of his soldiers were too far away to defend him.

…

Clever little monkeys!

…

With the keen eyes of a flying predator, Narcissus looks down at the mercenaries again.

He sees at least one bow slung over one of their shoulders.

Injured as he is, he can’t risk one or two lucky shots.

Warfare is based on deception

Standing at the head of his army, Aurelius breaks though the last of the trees and organizes his troops along the dirt road.

Three hundred orcs.

Three hundred fighting orcs!

Ten times the number he’s been used to commanding.

It’s a shockingly large number and he knows that every one of them will give their all in the upcoming battle.

Khajag is still hours away but Aurelius knows that the Blue prince’s dragon-born troops will already be waiting for them. He made no attempt to hide from the ever-present raven familiars circling overhead.

Narcissus will know they’re coming.

That was their primary objective though. To trick Narcissus into posting his forces away from his palace. To deprive the young dragon of support when his chief Orestes strikes.

Noon tomorrow.

Camp is set, fires are made and food is cooked.

No reason for subtlety.

Aurelius can’t rest though. He has struggled for two days to come up with a plan that will enable some of his brave orcs survival.

The battle, though vital, is unwinable.

Three hundred orcs verses at least four times that number of spell-casting Black-cloaks and Dragon-born warriors. And that’s not even including the thousand odd kobold skirmishers.

He does have two advantages though:

The first is that the blue barrier, though impressive, isn’t actually a barrier at all. It may stop living creatures passing through but it does nothing to prevent arrows or bolts.

The second is that although Narcissus’ troops massively outnumber his own, they will have to spread themselves thinly around the whole city.

…

Advantages true but still not enough to win…

Premature attack? You must be a stupid!

Never in all his thirty years, has anyone had the audacity to strike at him. Other than squabbles with his brother and sister, he’s never been so much as pushed!

Flapping his mighty wings, Narcissus holds himself aloft in the upper area of his domed throne room.

It was difficult to tell at first but it appears to be just the five mercenaries that entered with the orc criminal: Morten’s head.

No support from the human vermin in the hall.

Despite his generous reward, the idiot half-orc attacked him!

Not just attacked him but hurt him. Really hurt him.

In front of his mother!

Down below, he can see his Dragon-born soldiers, his Black-cloaks and even his Devils being beaten.

Without support, they won’t last much longer.

His mother’s magic mirror is currently pointing directly upward and therefore mostly useless…

Still, whenever he blasts the treacherous orc, he seems to receive some sort of backlash.

The tiefling also seems somehow immune to his lightning.

Looking down, Narcissus assesses his current predicament…

The orc warrior is impressive but relies on swords.

The tiefling paladin… Another melee fighter.
The wannabe black cloak monk is irritating but mostly unarmed.

The tall, thin shaman seems lost and confused. Probably the first that will fall.

Finally the tiny Halfling…

What is he doing by his throne?

And could they be connected to the advancing orc horde?

…

Of course they are…

Powerful and skilled as they are, they must be the leaders!

But why attack before the horde arrived?

Cheap ale and a bad (w)omen

Orestes and his generals talk late into the evening. Ale is flowing freely but the mood within the large, animal skin tent is upbeat and unified.

It’s Aurelius who again causes the conversation to alter course.

‘My leader, none of us has the experience to know what is to be done. Our people have been fractured for so long. Too long. Our traditions are all but lost.’

The middle-aged orc looks into the younger faces of all those around him before continuing.

‘Many orcs answered the gnomish call. Mostly male warriors but the very young and old also. Women looking to help also came. Some of them warriors and a few who’d kept safe the old ways...’

Momentarily locking eyes with Orestes and finding support there, Aurelius dares to continue.

‘There are only a few. Wise women all but the wisest one amongst them can foresee the future.’

Bodan grimaces ‘I distrust magic. Steel is all I put my faith in’.

Orestes though, understands what Aurelius is alluding to. ‘Send for her. If we’re to rebuild this clan, then we need to rebuild the old ways’.

A messenger is sent and after a short while, the tent flap is pushed back. An ancient looking orcess edges in. Her grey hair is matted, her back bent and through a toothless mouth she introduces herself.

‘I am Klok Gumma. Keeper of the ancient secrets.’

She shuffles forward and peers at Orestes, ‘Let me see this would-be-chief.’

Her eyes are wide but surprisingly clear.

Snorting derisively, she squats down in the middle of everyone and noisily retrieves objects from her sack…

A large wooden bowl, a silver knife, some dried leaves, a live chicken and some finger bones inscribed with orcish runes.

The wizened old orcess, sets fire to the dried leaves and wafts the smoke around the tent. The smell is acrid and makes everyone’s eyes burn.

Then she cuts the head off the chicken and pours some of its blood into the bowl. Muttering half-formed words, Klok Gumma takes the inscribed bones and tosses them into the bloody bowl.
Agitiating the small bones with her fingers, the wise women begains to relate what she can see...

'Your reign will begin with fire. Many of our people will die in a terrible battle but they will die willingly. They will die by the sword and so be delivered direct to Gruumsh. More fights will follow but eventually the dawning of a new sun will signal the end of our struggles… Adversity is what we must suffer under your stewardship but we will survive. We will remain a unified tribe.’

Orestes looks disturbed but surprisingly the others don’t.

‘Don’t look so concerned’ says Aurelius reassuringly. ‘Did you imagine everything would be plain sailing?’

Bodan laughs out loud at this.

‘Did you actually WANT it to be easy? What kind of orc are you?’

(T)orc of war

Dokan finds himself in a strange situation. Surrounded by friendly orcs and a trusted ally of their new chief.

Orestes: Chief of the Broken lance tribe.

Aurelius and Orestes are starting to discuss their immediate future when the entrance to the tent opens up and the hulking Bodan strides in.

‘I am here to pay homage to my new chief!’

Bodan was named after his father: Konan, a great, savage warrior and Bodush: The evil human sorcerer that infamously killed hundreds of orcs in the battle that destroyed the Broken lance clan. Scores of children were killed that day. Children that would never be avenged.

As the mighty Bodan bows, a diminutive gnome is revealed behind him.

Gauss smiles nervously as they’re both ushered to sit with the others.

Ale flows and soon the conversation turns to war.

War against Thereanthor and war against the Blue prince.

Orestes speaks of the possibility of leading his new army against the Blue prince…

‘Outrageous!’ squeaks the gnome.

‘This was never part of our plan. You would alert Thereanthor of our machinations and bring ruin to us all!’

The gnome looks to the others for support but finds none.

Bodan is already smiling at the prospect of battle. 
‘For so long, I have battled alone. Killing Dragon-borns and Black-cloaks wherever I could. But always small scale for I lacked any support. Now though, perhaps I can cause the accursed Thereanthor more trouble…’

Votton and Elige nod in agreement and Gauss looks horrified.

‘No! I forbid it!’

At this, Aurelius looks annoyed.

‘You ‘forbid’ it do you? Although I appreciate what you’ve done for us, never forget who and what we are. We are the Broken lance clan. We are warriors born. We are reunited at last and we have a strong leader. We are your friends but we are not your servants.’

Gauss cowers under Aurelius’ gaze before the grizzled orc continues.

‘The Blue prince now knows for certain that there is a gathering of the orcs. A large gathering. If we all flee, he or his bitch mother will hunt us down… If a large number of us fight though…’

Aurelius stops as he considers the situation but Gauss interrupts.

‘What you’re offering is a distraction while we evacuate the camp? This actually isn’t a bad proposition. Let me broker it with my superiors.’

And with that, Gauss leaves the tent.

Bodan laughs. ‘I like the little fellow but surely the Gnomes opinion has no baring on what we’re going to do.’

‘No’ agrees Aurelius, ‘But it doesn’t hurt to keep our friends contented’.

Orestes looks at his two generals, his human and tiefling friends and the orcs in his tent.

His orcs.

All told, he’s got over four hundred orcs willing to fight for him.

Willing to die for him!

Should he risk them in a battle against the Blue prince or should he lead them to the safety of Mount Sneafang?

He hasn’t even been officially crowned yet but responsibility already feels heavy on his brow.

Born to rule

After a few minutes, the still battered Aurelius enters Orestes’ tent. He is supported by two of his most trusted commanders but shrugs them off as they pass the threshold and kneels at Orestes’ feet.

Without looking up, he speaks clearly in the hushed silence.

‘You summoned me, my leader?’

Orestes bids him rise and then directs him to the rug and cushions spread on the floor.

‘Sit Aurelius. We have much to discuss’.

Four orcs and one tiefling settle down on the soft flooring: Orestes, Aurelius, Votton, Elige and Dokan.

Drinks and food are ordered and as they get comfortable, Orestes considers these four.

Dokan he has known for over a year. An odd mix of corruption and nobility…

Still, he has proved his loyalty and bravery time and time again.

Votton and Elige are unknown to him but they are Aurelius’ most trusted aids. This makes them trustworthy.

Trustworthy because Aurelius trusts them.

Trustworthy because Aurelius radiates wisdom and nobility.

Aurelius an intelligent and experienced orc who willingly gave up his advantage in their initial bout so he could help defend their people.

Diamond another day

As Dokan wanders unmolested, around the delineated orc sub-camps, he feels the demonic part of him whisper...

‘So many orcs! So much easy wealth to be had!’

This is no surprise to him. It’s the price he has to pay for his bisected soul.

A Tiefling Paladin.

Oddly, he is not that unusual amongst his people.

A rarity to be sure but not unheard of.

He wonders what the amassed army of orcs and their gnomish ‘helpers’ would think if they knew about his meeting with the young dragon?

Narcissus had behaved exactly as he’d expected him to act…

Arrogance was a trait that all dragons shared.

As a dragon prince in line to the throne of all of Fissa; how could he be anything else?

Dokan’s mind wanders back to the list of names on the Black cloaks scroll:

The dead Morten had been on it.

5,000 gold pieces worth of diamonds for a head they already had!

It’d be so easy to claim.

Aurelius and Bodan, the two other orcs that had fought for the right to rule the 'Broken-lance' clan were also on the list.

Another 5,000 gold pieces for Aurelius and double that for the hulking Bodan.

In conversation he’d also heard mention of some of the other ‘wanted’ names in the other camps.

‘Auzoux’ had already been crowned Chief of the ‘Blood-bottlers’ and ‘Knut’ and ‘Ragnar’ were due to be coronated chiefs of the ‘Meat-drippers’ and the ‘Flesh-lump-eaters’.

Looking around the thousands of orcs, Dokan was pretty sure the other named orcs would also be near somewhere. Possibly within the ranks of the remaining reformed clan, the ‘Bone-crunchers’.

‘Unger’, ‘Harang’, ‘Stig’ and ‘Viggo’.

20,000 gold pieces just for those four!

Then, despite his wishes, Dokan's thoughts stray to the hundred and sixty eight decapitated orc heads, sitting ready in a wagon by ‘Mallyx’ the, now dead, black dragon-born’s camp.

That’s 1,680 gold pieces worth of diamonds, just sitting there!

Closing his eyes and shaking his horns, Dokan forces the thought from his head.

Giving in to temptation is not the way of paladins.

I mist you

Lost in the darkening forest, Indigo tries to retrace his steps. He’d been foolish to pursue the orc. He’d assumed he’d just be able to turn around and find the mossy clearing again.

He’d not considered the confounding mist.

Now he’d not only lost the orc but his teammates as well.

Still, he was pretty self-sufficient and he would eventually find his way out.

He was concerned about the others though and wondered if they’d found the magically shrouded orc camp.

Take on me

Orestes vs Morten

Oblivious to the cheers of the crowds surrounding him and the other heat, Orestes stands perfectly still and watches his opponent.

Looking for weakness.

Assessing him.

Though fairly tall, Morten is the shortest and lightest of the four competitors. Orestes is wise enough to know though, that this doesn’t make him necessarily the weakest.

Morten’s choice of weapon is odd though...

A spear?

A useful weapon but crude when compared to a sword or an axe.

…

He could throw it perhaps but that would mean him effectively disarming himself.

He’s also using it two handedly.

Is Morten planning on sacrificing his own defense in his attempts to cause more damage with each thrust?

Maintaining his calm, Orestes stands on his side of the ring.

The spear is clearly magical though but what special power does it posses?

Morten stares back, almost certainly thinking similar thoughts.

Orestes then notices him glancing at his two cronies. The massive, armoured ogre and the weedy looking orc-shaman.

The shaman’s smile is worrisome.

Suddenly, the clanking bell sounds to signal the start of both bouts.

A cheer goes up in response to something happening in the other bout but Orestes doesn’t let it disturb his thoughts.

He’s surprised when Morten doesn’t charge but instead waits for Orestes to come to him.

Orestes charges forwards and brings his twin swords down.

Morten parries one but as Orestes’ other sword connects, it doesn’t seem to penetrate as deeply as he’d expected.

Taking advantage of Orestes’ confusion, Morten retaliates with a quick thrust of his spear.

…

As it slices open a superficial wound in his side, Orestes realises what the spears magical power is…

Poison.

They battle on and Orestes realises that the poison will kill him unless he can finish off Morten quickly.

No matter what he does though, his blows keep being repelled somehow.

With a sickening feeling, that’s nothing to do with the poison, Orestes realises that he’s going to lose.

Still, if he’s to die, he’ll die fighting.

Then something happens…

He feels a healing power wash over him, closing some of his wounds and nutralising the poison burning through his veins.

Risking a quick look around, Orestes spies his teammate: Dokan.

The Tiefling paladin subtly indicates Morten’s shaman friend and everything becomes clear.

The reason for Dokan’s interference.

The reason why Morten’s wounds seem so light, despite Orestes' many sword cuts.

Twisting around and forcing Morten away from his cronies, Orestes sees fear in his opponent’s eyes for the first time in this battle.

The orc-shaman has obviously been helping Morten but his spell range must be severely limited.

Knowing this, Orestes tries to engineer the battle away from them but Morten doesn’t allow it. Always moving back towards his healer.

It matters not though, without the poison slowing him down, Orestes starts gradually to overpower his treacherous but weaker foe.

A cheer erupts around the other ring but it doesn’t steal Orestes’ focus.

Remembering his old teacher's advice, Orestes concentrates on his opponent and nothing else.

He sees the patterns in Morten’s movements.

He waits for the opening and then...

Takes it!

Morten stares at him and then down to the sword penetrating his naked stomach.

A contemptuous sneer is all he can manage before losing consciousness.

Orestes stands back, raises his arms and acknowledges the roaring crowd.

He breathes in the adoration.

He soaks up the cheers.
The cheers of his people.

This feeling is good.

…

Ignored by Orestes and the crowd, the orc shaman creeps into the challenge ring to heal his stricken and defeated leader.

Mags power

Not even bothering to attempt to pull the massive, armoured Ogre into their tent, Orestes strips the leaden creature where it lays.

The armoured Ogre only had three items of interest but those three items are very interesting!

Treasure:

Magnetic plate mail +4 (Lvl:19 105,000gp)

Inescapable greatsword +4 (Lvl:18 85,000gp)

Ironskin belt (Lvl:15 25,000gp)
Coin purse containing: 42gp, 132sp and 49cp

Head held high

Zavia hums as she slices through the skin and tough tendons holding the dead Morten’s head in place.

It takes her a while but eventually she’s able to remove it completely and skewer the bloody mess onto the magical spear that was recently used to poison her orcish teammate.

Hoisting it up, she plants the pole into the soft earth outside their tent and smiling, heads back inside.

…

After a few minutes, Charlie Stilton wisely replaces the extremely valuable magical spear with a mundane but serviceable one he found lying around.

Treasure found:

Spear of poison +4 (Lvl:20 125,000gp)

Hide armour: Darkleaf +3 (Lvl:14 21,000gp)

Gloves of piercing (Lvl:3 680gp)

Amulet of health: +3 (Lvl:13 17,000gp)

Cherished Ring (Lvl:14 21,000gp)

Coin bag containing: 243gp, 51sp and 28cp

Unable to see the wood for the cheese

After a brief moment of indecision, the monk Indigo sprints into the undergrowth after the orc warrior. Knowing his memories are suspect, Indigo can’t let the orc wander off alone. He may be a friend and, in his current state, he’d be easy pickings for the various groups of orc hunting mercenaries currently searching these woods.

Meanwhile, still hidden behind some foliage, Charlie Stilton tries to calm his breath while he wracks his brain for answers.

He didn’t just appear here but, for the life of him, he can’t remember the journey or any of the people in the clearing.

One of them had called out to him though, as he ran…

They knew his name…

They weren’t cursing it or shooting arrows at him…

And, as he watches them recover magical item after magical item from the bodies of fallen adventures…

He desperately wants a share of that loot!

Taking a deep breath, Charlie Stilton stands up and walks, in what he hopes looks like a confident manner, back into the clearing.

The other adventurers look around, momentarily losing sight of the monk.

Those few seconds are critical though, as Indigo is lost to them, swallowed up by the same eerie mist and darkness that now holds the unknown orc.

Another fine moss you’ve gotten yourselves into

Standing in the smoldering mess of blackened moss and trees, the adventurers look around at each other.

Dokan recognises Orestes but no one else. Who are the others? Some of them look familiar but he can’t place them.

Something’s definitely wrong here but he can’t discern what it is and so keeps his sword held ready.

The monk: Indigo is less affected but still, slightly disorientated.

Only Zavia and Orestes feel that they are mentally unaffected by the strange plant creature.

They were, unfortunately, too slow to prevent he halfling and the half-orc from fleeing into the surrounding forest.

Perhaps affected by the heat from the flaming oil, the eerie, white mist covering the ground seems to momentarily dissipate.

Several corpses are revealed. Orc-hunting mercenaries by the look of their equipment. They can’t have been dead for more than a few months as they aren't completely covered in the strange moss that seems to be everywhere in this part of the forest.

After a few minutes of mutual reassurance, the four adventures cautiously help themselves to whatever they can find.

Watching from his hiding place, Charlie Stilton wonders who everyone is, how he got there and, most importantly, how he can get his hands on that stuff.

Piggog the orc though, continues to run from the chaotic encounter. Whoever those strange people were, they were no help to him and his quest to rejoin his ancient tribe: The Bone crunchers!

The Blue Prince: Mid-series catch-up (Episode: 2)

Leaving his erstwhile teammates: Indigo and Orestes behind to explore the woods, Dokan and the diminutive Zavia rode on towards Khajag.

Khajag, as far as they knew was just a mining town. A profitable, diamond mining town but just that. Recently though, it has been bequeathed by the tyrant Thereanthor to one of her four children: Narciss.

As they journeyed on, a leather clad, Halfling called out to them from behind. He seemed cocky but not threatening. 

After he’d managed to catch up, the Halfling introduced himself as ‘Charlie Stilton’ and invited himself along for the journey. He was originally from Fewham and had followed after the adventurers as he’d lost confidence in the protection the ‘captive’ dragon: Sybille had giving the town.

They arrived at the outskirts of Khajag about a day-and-a-half later. Just farming outposts but, weirdly, worked by human slaves overseen by kobolds.

Some of the kobolds, the bigger ones, rode upon strange dog-like mounts.

The kobolds gathered in number before approaching Dokan, Zavia and Charlie Stilton. They overtly threatened and insulted the gnomess Zavia but she refused to let herself be provoked and eventually the three adventures were shown to the town’s outer ‘wall’.

A gatehouse, complete with an iron portcullis stood astride the main road into the town. It was stone-built, ornate and impressive. What was most odd about it though, was that there were no walls on either side. Rather a shimmering field of blue light.
Tall stone towers interrupted the sheets of crackling energy at regular, mile wide intervals. Each one manned by a Black cloak and a couple of blue Dragon-borns.

After a brief conversation with the Black cloak atop the main gatehouse, Dokan, Zavia and Stilton were allowed through the gate to meet with Narciss himself.

As they walked toward the newly built palace, Charlie Stilton and the others noticed how poorly treated the humans were. Everything in the burgeoning town of Khajag had been built on the whipped backs of the human slaves.

The central palace was huge in relation to the town itself. Grand but overblown. It was made mostly of white marble but had domes and decorations of vivid blue.

After dealing with a few underlings, the adventurers were surprised to be shown directly into the blue prince’s throne room§. Here they found the young dragon talking lazily to one of his mother’s Black cloaks. The room itself was colossal and, at its zenith, the domed roof reached over 50’ high!

Despite this, the dome was supported by highly decorated ribs at the circumference of the room rather than interrupting columns. Each rib denoted one of the many races of Fissa, their intertwined bodies and faces in expressions of painful subjugation. At the very top of the dome, where the ribs met, was a huge, decorative, stone boss. A boss that showed Narciss breathing lightning at the hairless monkey races.

After making them wait for a few minutes, the young dragon uncurled himself from his specially made throne and summoned the three adventures forward.

Although still young, he was already the size of a large horse but when he spoke, his voice was like a rasping whisper. Like wind over gravel.

The young Dragon told them that he’d ‘ordered them here to help stamp out a large and illegal gathering of orcs. Possibly in their thousands’.

He explained that ‘He could get help from his mother, the tyrant queen, but her troops would take weeks to arrive and he’d elected not to wait’.

He also explained his frustration with his scryers. ‘For some reason, despite numerous reports of orc sightings, they cannot locate them’.

Narciss ordered the three adventurers to ‘Go out to Fasel wood. Find the orcs and kill as many of them as possible’.

It was only then that a wretched looking human clerk shuffles forward and presents Dokan with a scroll with a reward list on it…

Ten gold pieces worth of diamonds per confirmed normal orc grunt killed but larger amounts for ten particular orcs, who are known troublemakers.

Five thousand gold pieces worth of diamonds for known troublemakers: Morten, Ragnar, Knut. Aurelius, Unger, Harang, Stig and Viggo.

Ten thousand gold pieces worth of diamonds for Bodan and Auzoux. Two especially dangerous orcs. Orcs who are inspiring their kin toward open rebellion.

After they were dismissed by the young dragon prince, Dokan, Zavia and Charlie Stilton had a quick look around on their way out of the town/city.

The main entrance to the main diamond mine was located at the far edge of the town but still within the confines of the blue energy shield. It was unsurprisingly well guarded, as were several other building.

The trio of adventurers also saw the humans being openly mistreated by the kobold overseers. Dokan, Zavia and Charlie Stilton did nothing to prevent this though as it would have caused direct conflict with the Dragon-borns and Black-cloaks.

As they were escorted back to the main gate, Charlie Stilton, on viewing the shimmering blue energy field, asked one of the nearby kobolds what the shields did. Happy to explain, four of the kobolds dragged over a human slave and threw him through the barrier.

The translucent blue field didn’t prevent him passing through it but his electrified body was quite dead when it fell on the other side.

From one of the nearby doorways, a woman wailed in despair. Her husband had been killed just as a cruel example.

Slightly disturbed but unwilling to kill the culprits, Dokan, Charlie Stilton and Zavia headed out and away from Khajag.

They made camp that night at the edge of the forest. In the morning, they headed in.

It was late that afternoon when the Halfling cleverly noticed a pit trap. Not that wide but spiked at the bottom and deep enough to prevent easy escape.

The diminutive Charlie Stilton and Zavia found themselves somewhere to hide while the well-armoured Dokan triggered the clanking bell alarm.

After a few minutes a huge black scaled dragon-born arrived. He was wary due to the ongoing bell and flanked by two humans. A well-armoured warrior and a mysterious looking sorceress.

These three were the survivors of the mercenary group Dokan had fought on-route to ‘saving’ Lady Sybille from the Black cloak tower near Fewham.

They had proved themselves tough and now it looked as if Dokan was facing them alone. Mallyx, the dragon-born signaled his human teammate forward but he was surprised by a sneak attack from the well-concealed Charlie Stilton.

Realising it was a trap, the black dragon born and the sorceress rushed to help. The battle was closely fought and Dokan looked in trouble until the little Gnomess, illusionist: Zavia managed to fool the Dragon-born into stepping onto his own pit trap.

Down he fell, soon followed by his underlings.

Zavia sealed the pit with an illusionary but unassailable metal lid, effectively trapping the three mercenaries. It was a simple matter then, for the rogue and the paladin to finish them off with crossbow bolts and daggers.

After a brief rest, the three adventurers stripped the mercenaries of all their valuable equipment and searched to area. They found dozens of pit traps and, eventually, Mallyx’s camp. Tents, a prepared but unlit fire and a wagon containing a hundred and sixty eight severed orc heads. The bodies were to be found dumped down a natural, open pit.

Despite the distasteful nature of the campsite, the three adventurers decided to stay there overnight and to look for Orestes and Indigo in the morning.

The Blue Prince: Mid-series catch-up (Unseen footage)

Waking from their night’s sleep, the four adventurers debated what to do next.

The half-orc: Orestes, naturally wanted to follow the magical orc letter and head towards the nearby ‘Fasel wood’. Dokan however wanted to follow the raven’s mysterious invitation to the diamond-mining town of Khajag.

Indigo sided with Orestes but Dokan dug his cloven heels in. The three of them argued for over half-an-hour but no redress could be found.

Zavia, the newly joined gnomess, wisely decided to keep her own council. She didn’t know these three well enough yet to try and influence their decisions.

Realising that Indigo and Orestes weren’t going to change their minds, Dokan decided to head off to Khajag alone. It was only then that Zavia made up her mind.

Two groups of two seemed fair to her and Dokan was at least heading toward a promise of gold.

The four adventures split up. Orestes and Indigo to search the forest and Dokan and Zavia to journey to Khajag and the Blue prince…

The Blue Prince: Mid-series catch-up (Episode: 1)

Finding themselves hustled out of the Inn they were staying at in Fewham by the landlord: Proper John (Vogir and Rudha-an had apparently already left.), Orestes, Dokan and Indigo made their way to Lord Rician’s manor house and demanded entry.

The visibly present town guards shadowed them but didn’t approach.

A small Gnomess: Zavia also joined the party as she was being hustled out of town as well. In fact all the adventures and mercenaries recently invited into Fewham to help save the Lady Sybille from the Black cloaks, were being ‘asked’ to move on.

After the aged servant’s initial refusal, Dokan and Indigo were begrudgingly allowed in to ‘discuss’ their complaints.

Lord Rician was rude and dismissive and, after asking the two adventurers to leave, called his guards. Despite Indigo’s pleas for calm, Dokan drew his sword and attacked Lord Rician. Although no match for Dokan, Lord Rician was able to defend himself for the few moments it took for two of his guards to arrive.

Indigo then decided to nip matters in the bud and, in a blinding whirl of action, killed both the guards and the aged clerk.

Indigo’s brutal flurry had the desired effect though, and Lord Rician immediately surrendered. He paid Dokan double what he’d originally offered the party to save his ‘daughter’.

Leaving the next day, in their own sweet time, the gnomess Zavia decided to join them, although they hadn’t the faintest idea what to do or where to go.

During the journey to the next major crossroads, Dokan spied a raven apparently following them.

He shot it with his crossbow and, confirming his suspicions, it disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

Making camp at nightfall, Zavia noticed smoke in the distance. Climbing up a tree, she realized that it was another camp nearby.

The stealthy monk: Indigo went to investigate while the other three of them prepared to defend their camp. Zavia proved herself adept with useful illusions.

Indigo noticed a group of orcs creep past him but carried on to their camp. Once there he discovered two young orcs on guard. He stepped out, unarmed and offering peace but, unprovoked, the two orcs still attacked. It was only due to his generosity that they lived beyond that moment.

The other group of orcs moved through the trees to the Party’s camp. There, after a short, shouted conversation, they discovered Orestes was one of them. An orc.

After a brief negotiation, the orcs offered to share some of their food in exchange for the mutual defence of a shared camp.

In the morning, the leader of the young orcs took out a piece of parchment, tore it and passed half of it to Orestes. Magically both halves repaired themselves and Orestes was able to read the entire message. It was in Orcish but the phrasing was odd, wrong. It was far too slick. Too savvy.

Despite being asked not to, Orestes showed it to his teammates…

CALLING ALL ORCS!

Are you sick of living in fear?

Fear of the Dragon?

Fear of the armies of Man?

The time is upon us brother.

The time to reunite the sundered tribes.

The time to reforge the great hordes of our forefathers.

Come find us in the heart of Fasel wood.

Help us reclaim what is ours.

In the name of Gruumsh, help reclaim what should be yours!

Do not share this information with men, elves or dwarves.

Do not confide with any that would see us oppressed.

The band of youthful orcs left in the direction of a nearby wood and the party continued on to the crossroads.

On the way Dokan noticed the raven again. ‘Was it the same one’ he wondered and he shot it with a crossbow bolt, just to be sure.

Again it disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

Arriving at the crossroads about a day later, they found a large wooden signpost. Its arms pointing in five different directions.

1) Fewham: Back the way they came.

2) Winterhaven: Back towards where a lot of them had originally started.

3) Stonefang: The land of the dwarves.

4) Gon Dulat: The largest city within weeks of traveling and….

5) Khajag: Apparently a recent but wealthy settlement.

It's here the raven reappeared in the treetops and it swooped down to perch atop the crossroads sign.

Although raising his crossbow again, Dokan didn’t fire and the nervous looking raven finally spoke…

‘Ad-veenturoors! Youu Arr all CAW-dialy enviited to tha proviince of Khajag to aiid tha Blue prince with a triiviial but preesing mat-ter. Thaare’s gold to be made. Aaaaand plenttee of it!’

With two possibilities and unsure what to do, the Party made camp.