+++IN THE END EVERYTHING COLLIDES+++
Leaning on the broken ramparts, Tahvis filled his lungs with cold mountain air, savouring the slighty painful sensation. He held his breath for a moment, then let it out explosively in a cloud of mist. For a moment he was a child again, playing at being the Fist of the Gyre, unleashing the power of the storm against the enemies of the People. He smiled ruefully at the memory, breathing more normally, gazing down the mountainside to the hills and forests below. Such riches, he mused.
He was aware of a pale presence behind him, and quickly straightened up. A sussuration of white wool and white fur, and Grand Warlock Sleer herself leant over the parapet. Her shaved head was marked with intricate runic designs, echoing those that curved gracefully across her beautiful weltsilver mage armour. Power radiated from her like waves of heat. Tahvis stood to attention, eye fixed straight ahead.
After a few moments, he was aware that the Grand Warlock was studying him with mild interest and curiosity. It made him nervous. It rarely did a warrior good to attract the attention of those chosen of the Dragons.
“What do you see, warrior?” she asked suddenly. “Tell me.”
“Riches.” He answered immediately, still staring ahead. “Wood, stone, metal.”
Sleer favoured him with a quick smile, gone before it had truly arrived.
He struggled for a moment, but he knew better than to refuse to answer, or to try and dissemble.
“We should take it. For the Dragons. It should be ours.” He said, slowly. He might have said more, but he knew that saying too much was worse than saying too little. Presumption could see him sent to the mines.
The Grand Warlock laughed, a brittle sound in the cold mountain air. Tahvis relaxed a little.
“So straightforward!” she laughed. “I like it. Oh make no mistake, warrior, we will take their riches. But the glory of the Dragons’ plan is that they will give them to us willingly. Their wood, their stone, their metal. They will give it to us without another drop of blood being spilled.”
She narrowed her eyes suddenly. “You don’t approve?”
Tahvis swallowed. “I do not question the Dragons.” he said flatly.
“Nor should you. Peace, after all, is just war fought with different weapons, on different battlefields. If it brings us what we want - what the Dragons want - then it will serve us just as well as war. Perhaps better.”
She watched him for a few more moments, weighing him up, and then flashed another of those sharp smiles that showed her teeth.
“I have my eye on you, warrior,” she said. And then swept back into the dilapidated fortress.
Tahvis let out another explosive gust of breath, and tried to work out if her parting words had been a threat… or a promise.
Orc Affairs! Here you can learn about:
- The Thule peace treaty and all the many ways it is already under threat!
- The Great Forest Orcs and their new adventures among the Navarr!
- The Thralls of the Mourn and the most recent potential legal problems!
- And a surprise visitor who apparently wants to talk to one of the Marcher Generals!
You can find the Wind of Fortune hereee -> https://www.profounddecisions.co.uk/…/In_the_end_everything…
(There are a few broken links atm that will link up to coming Winds of Fortune so don’t panic, wiki contributors).
The picture is apparently Gwrych Castle, a Grade I listed 19th-century country house near Abergele in Conwy county borough, Wales. In case you were wondering.
#Peaceiswar, #Mysongsknowwhatyoudid, #Wherethereslifetheresthreat,