Battle for Kazragun

[Silanon]

Only occasionally beating the giant wings, a black bird makes its way northwards. The sun behind its back is covered by grey clouds just like the rest of the sky; sharp raptor eyes look down onto the landscape far below. Burnt soil, chopped down forests, a few scattered ruins - a land marked by the reign of the orcs, only recently ended by the Order of the Flame marching through. Passing over graves and corpse pits, the bird follows the brown, muddy trail before finally, the swampy grounds of the north come into sight. Right before grasslands turn into tree-interspersed puddles, a few rolling hills make an appearance, the highest one carrying the weight of a tower's remains: Damos Lookout, named after the family that once owned the northernmost buildings of the kingdom. Their ruins are still to be found in the surrounding area - right where most of them are gathered together and the path ends, a few white and blue tents form a circle around two fireplaces. There is some bustle going on - shapes in different colors and states of shininess are moving as another group closes in from the south, bringing three horse carts with them, filled with bags and barrels. Their sudden activity interrupts the lovely melodies that filled the air just moments ago - different from those chanted further west, but equally meaningful. As the bird continues its travel, a couple of others join, flying up to the right where more of the ancient white cypresses are left untouched. For some of those down there, this moment marks an end to something - for the bird though, this is just the beginning of another journey. A few flaps let it turn leftwards, right in direction of where the land once more climbs out of the swamps before suddenly dropping into the ocean. Noone knows why it is headed there - there's nothing else to find than smoking chimneys, dark green sails and the noise of thousands preparing for battle - but since there is a reason for everything under the watching eyes of the Gods, his struggle won't be without purpose.


Location: Damos Lookout


Time: around midday


Weather: cloudy, no rain thus far


For the colossal creature standing in the shadows of an ancient-looking tree, this moment marks the end of pretty much everything. This is where the swamp, Veskassdak's familiar surrounding, ends, just like Daraness told him. The shaman also said something about good prey around this place previously to the green mammals passing through southwards. But now all he can see are a couple of birds flying up as they notice his presence, entering the cloudy skies. Noone seems to pick up on them, though - as it seems, those running around the small tents aren't as vigilant as any creature from the swamps would be. Maybe it's because of the green ones being driven back far westwards, or because of the carts that arrive just in this very moment. This is the closest place to the tribe's area to find mammals, and although shabby in comparison to the lizardmen's homes, Veskassdak can clearly make out that most of those running around are warriors of various mammal tribes.


For the branded singer and the young woman accompanying his chant, this is an end as well - an end to the attention they got just a moment ago, but more importantly an end to their waiting. Recruited by the Princes weeks ago further in the south, they made their way up to this point just like the woman nibbling on the left-overs of a chicken leg. Arriving early only meant hanging around longer though - while the orcs were driven back, there are still a few bands strolling around, waiting for the opportunity to cause havoc. Taking no chances, the dwarven whitebeard known as Kalib made you wait until at least this group arrived - hoping that there are enough new recruits in there to make it at least half a dozen inexperienced fighters travelling onwards. He now stands in the middle of the tent circle, right where he demonstrated a few simple blocking techniques since the sun climbed the sky. "Y'er always late, Bjarni. Two damn days, an' ya almost made three outta it."


For both the halfling and the human sitting on the second cart, this is also an end. Not like for the others travelling with you, since those will simply return to their dull homes in the south, but still an end of a rather troublesome journey; while neither crossbow nor sling were needed, your cart got stuck twice on the way, due to the miserable state of the road. After being trampled over by the orcs and a few days of rain, it really doesn't deserve its name anymore, and travelling through the wild might have been just as easy as following the trail of mud. "Someone's always gonna be late, y'know - tell da orcs that ya don't like how tha treated da roads, though, maybe da will be more careful next time tha feel like goin south." Bjarni, a rather young fellow, breaks his silence that overlay the whole group since yesterday morning, jumping into the mud and greeting his dwarven brother with a thundering handshake. "Brought ya da damn wine from da Raes, gotta keep ya here for a while longer. Few more coming yar way, but not before da allowance. Brought ya two more, though, just in case ya still want them to look for da orcs."


As the regular soldiers start to unload the goods from the carts in a well-practiced manner, there is not much to do - though a helping hand probably wouldn't be rejected, either. Both dwarves seem to have changed to their mothertongue, with Kalib pointing northwards and Bjarni shaking his head firmly. Two archers close to the fire seem to follow their discussion rather interested - the old man next to them closes his eyes instead, as if he'd concentrate on something unseeable. Shortly after, he opens them again, somehow alarmed as he turns eastwards.