Writer's Note: Valor, Chapter 6

            Jesus, AGAIN? Yes, well, somewhat.

            Obviously I'm already a day or two late, but I was honestly hoping to get Chapter 6 up NOW. And I actually could; it's written. I just finished it a few minutes ago.

            That said, I’ll wait until next weekend to put it up. The reason being that I’d really like to focus on editing some stuff some more. Especially with how action-heavy Part 2 has been so far, and how I’ve been trying to get it in just under the wire, I haven’t given myself a lot of time to edit these things.

            That said, I’m fairly certain I know where the rest of Part 2 is going. My mental outline is a lot more developed than it previously was, anyways. So I will try to get some work done on Chapter 7 while I’m working on editing previous stuff as well.

            And while I could wait until I was completely done with stuff to edit it, and I probably will give it a very solid once-over once that happens, I want to try and get some stuff polished as I go.

            That said, I won’t leave you with just my charming presence. Here’s a little teaser of Chapter 6 that shouldn’t reveal too much. I enjoyed writing it tremendously though. Thanks for reading!

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            “I think, perhaps to be safe, I should simply fill the corridors with fire,” Gustav said calmly.

            “… Can’t you only cast that spell so much?”

            Gustav put a hand to his chest as if hurt. “Michael, I would gladly sacrifice a little of my person well-being if it meant keeping my close friends safe.”

            “I don’t think we have much to worry about,” Michael said. “Most of us are wearing enough armor to keep out spider fangs, and even if they do get us, I imagine William can heal the wounds?” His tone rose at the end, changing to a question as he looked at William.

            “My healing can mend torn flesh and broken bones, and can help to cure the sick. Admittedly, though, I have little experience with poisons and venoms.”

            “See?!” Gustav said, gesturing towards William. “Certainly, fangs and diseases will not stop us, but will you risk us dying of a spider’s toxic bite?”

            Michael cocked an eyebrow, and glanced over at Elias. Elias rolled his eyes. “He’s got a thing about bugs.”

            “I… I do not have a thing about bugs!” Gustav sputtered.

Valor: Chapter 5

            Despite Michael prompting a couple of them to help with the watch during the night, Gustav had none of that. If he was forced to sleep on a pile of rough blankets, outside, in a swamp, he was going to need as much sleep as he could get.

            The next morning, sipping at the poor excuse for coffee the Taskurr elves had, Elias cocked an eyebrow when passing by him. “Sleep well?”

            Gustav frowned, and slapped at his arm, killing another one of blood-sucking insects that had plagued him during the night. Elias and Ildun, being elves, were treated somewhat more kindly than the humans, and Elias in particular had seemed to enjoy himself. Gustav had seen him talking to a platinum blonde elven girl a few times during the night.

            “As well as could be expected,” Gustav grumbled. As much as part of him wanted to smack Elias for his preferential treatment, it wasn’t as though Elias hadn’t seen his fair share of prejudice at the academy, which was made up of mostly humans. “You?”

            “Not really,” Elias said, but he grinned as he said it.

            Gustav’s face contorted with anger for a moment, but he took a breath and gave an exasperated laugh. “Well… good for you.”

            Ildun came walking over, and he honestly didn’t look much better than Gustav. Worse, perhaps. He grumbled over the coffee as he poured it. Gustav gave Elias a questioning look.

            Grinning still, Elias said “good morning Ildun! Have fun last night?” Gustav jumped slightly at how loud Elias said it.

            Ildun winced, and glared at Elias before walking off. “Ildun partook of some of the ‘swampshine’ the locals had, and though he seemed to enjoy it last night… well, he’s certainly regretting it now.”

            Looking back after Ildun, who was putting a hand to his head as he sat down on a stump, Gustav gave a somewhat slight smile. Seeing someone else miserable did wonders for his mood.

            Michael walked by Ildun on his way out of Ormakin’s home, and got a weak wave and irritated grunt in return. “What’s his problem?” Michael asked, and Gustav knew Michael shared his thoughts that the elves should be the most relaxed of those here.

            “A little too much to drink last night,” Elias said.

            “Hmm.” Michael frowned, and glanced upward, trying to gauge the time from the sun. Not that the treetops allowed much of an answer. “I don’t want to wait too long to get moving. Hopefully he’ll be fine by then.”

            “He’d better be,” Gustav said sharply, setting down his empty coffee cup with the spiteful flavor still on his tongue. “I appreciate the hospitality,” what little there is, “but I’d like to get moving to Tagen Rynns as quickly as possible.”

            Michael’s eyebrows rose, and he turned to Elias. “That reminds me, Elias… Ormakin was rather flustered whenever I called it Goldbottom, and when I asked, he told me my translation was ‘wrong,’ but wouldn’t tell me how.”

            Gustav bristled somewhat. After all, he’d provided the translation. “It’s a somewhat nuanced language, Mike.”

            Michael laughed softly. “I mean no offense, Gus. I’m more curious than anything.”

            Elias scratched at his chin. “Well, uh.”

            Gustav sighed.

            “What?” Michael asked.

            “He does then whenever he has something he doesn’t want to say. Um uh bluh scratch scratch.” Gustav moved his hand up and scratched at his scalp, pursing his lips and crossing his eyes. Then his face went cold and he leveled it Elias. “Out with it Elias! We’re grown men, damn it.”

            “Alright, spirits alive.” Elias sighed, and said “I suppose a more accurate translation would be something Dregs of Gold Soaked, and though it’s not described in the name, the gold is implied to be soaked not only in the swamp’s mud, but blood as well.”

            “Well isn’t that cheery.”

            “You asked me to tell you,” Elias said to Gustav. “That said, call it whatever you want Michael. Most elves just get ill-tempered when Elven proper names aren’t used.”

            “I agree it’s not pleasant sounding,” Michael admitted, “but it’s nothing we weren’t already aware of. Like you’ve both said, it’s contested ground.”

            “Did Ormakin know anything more on that?” Elias asked. “Last I had scouted, hobgoblins had the place under guard, fighting off undead.”

            “All Ormakin could give me was that a war party of orcs had been spotted going in that direction, about two days ago.”

            “Well, we’re in luck then,” Gustav said, standing.

            “How in blazes is an orcish war party lucky?” Elias countered.

            “They’ll probably break whatever’s holding Goldbottom, and still be recovering, right? We’ll hit them at their weakest.”

            Michael frowned. “Or whatever was holding it broke their own camp after the undead attack, and now we have a very fortified orc position.”

            “Okay, yes, but-”

            “Or spirits forbid, if it was hobgoblins holding the camp, maybe they teamed up against the undead,” Elias added. “I’ve heard of it happening before, brief alliances between orc and goblin tribes.”

            “Now that is a horrifying thought.”

            “Yes yes yes!” Gustav said, trying to stop them from saying more. “Or perhaps an arcane rupture between our realm and that of water occurred, and the entire fort is held down by an elemental lord! But we certainly won’t find out waiting around here!”

            “No need to shout Gus,” Michael said as he tried to calm his friend down. Gustav certainly didn’t think he needed calming down, but he did admit, sitting around not working on some task or another made him… anxious. “We’ll be leaving as soon as everyone’s found their feet, trust me.”

            “Good,” Gustav said, taking a breath. “The sooner we take Tagen Rynns, the better.” As if to help remind him of why, he felt a pinch on his neck, and his hand slapped at instinctively, killing another miniature blood-sucker.

            Yes, the sooner they got to some place without bugs, the better.

            William found a part of himself greatly disturbed by what was happening before him. He heard Ildun say something in Elven he didn’t recognize, and cocked an eyebrow. “Déjà vu?”

            Ildun tilted his head a little. “Basically, this is very familiar.”

            It took William a second to realize why, but then he remembered that when the elves had first burst from the forest, pursued by undead, the undead had originally been fighting orcs. He imagined it invoked for the elves much the same feeling it was for William now, age-old hatred aside.

            The scene before them was what remained of Tagen Rynns. Time had taken its toll, and the war that seemed to rage around it did little to help. For the time being, it seemed to be a sort of siege being waged by the undead soldiers of the fortress, which was currently occupied by what appeared to be orcs.

            “Well, this certainly complicates things,” Michael said sourly.

            William nodded along with the rest. Michael probably meant tactically, but William felt it morally. Both the orcs and undead were their enemy, but the undead were far more opposed to them. The bone and iron soldiers moving around the fort, going through the motions of war with none of the fire or passion of life, was disturbing to watch. They coordinated silently, and didn’t break under pressure of attack.

            “Are we aiming to wipe them out, or merely get into the fort?” William asked.

            “Perry, do you have a count?”

            Tresbos conferred with the elves for a moment, and nodded. “About two dozen, with about half focused on the primary push through the gap in the southern wall. It’s hard to get more of a read than that… the orcs will strike one down, but he may not stay down for long.”

            “What about the orcs?” Michael asked.

            “Harder to tell,” Perry admitted with a grumble. “I spotted about six holding the frontline. Occasionally a few more may try to break the undead lines, but they don’t last long.”

            Michael didn’t seem too disturbed by the lack of information. William supposed he didn’t expect the scouts to know everything.

            “An orc war party would have at least thirty combat-capable men in it,” Ildun offered. “Between taking the fort and what they’ve got now, plus what we’ve seen…” he shrugged, “probably somewhere around twenty, give or take a few injured, but not yet dead orcs.”

            William frowned. The thought of the dilemma of an injured-yet-alive orc came to him. Would he heal him? Kill him while he was down? Or merely leave him? In a strange way, he hoped that none of the orcs would ride that line, and that they would either be dead, or living and trying to kill him.

            “Too many for us to all take at once,” Michael said, still facing the fort. “I think our best bet is to try to divide up the undead, and let the orcs try to push out. It may even the odds a bit.”

            “A bit, yes, but not enough,” Gustav said matter-of-factly. “Assuming you’re relying on some magical firepower to break through the orcs, I can only get off two, maybe three fireballs in rapid succession.”

            “Save your energy Gus,” Michael answered immediately. “You know a sleep spell, yes?”

            Gustav blinked in surprise. William almost smirked. He clearly hadn’t expected Michael to remember that. William had honestly forgotten himself. William had seen Michael in action before, and he had a fairly decent tactical mind, even if he was a little headstrong at times.

            “Yes, I do… and so does Elias.”

            “Excellent. Alright… Ildun, Elias, which of you is better with a bow?”

            “Ildun is,” Elias volunteered quickly. “I’m not bad, but Ildun’s had more training.”

            “I’ve downed my fair share of fast-moving meals,” Ildun added.

            William cocked an eyebrow at Michael, but Michael gave no sign of noticing. William knew there was a difference between shooting at a fleeing stag and a charging enemy, though.

            “Alright, Ildun, you, Perry, and William are going to take up position to the east of the main undead lines. Draw off some undead. William, you think you can handle turning them?”

            William nodded. He had only turned undead the first time a day before, but these looked to be the same manner of creature. “I have no doubt that the power of heaven will free these souls.”

            “Good. Hopefully the orcs will make for the undead lines at that time. If you can, Perry, Ildun, try to score some hits on the orcs. I don’t care which group is more injured, only that they’re weakened.”

            “What then?” Elias asked.

            “If there are any undead left, we’ll have to cut them down,” Michael said.

            “They aren’t men of flesh and blood,” Elias countered. “They don’t go down easily… my mashaat was nearly useless against them.” He brandished the cleaver-like dagger lazily to make a point, and then pointed it at Michael’s own sword. “I doubt that would fare much better. We’re poorly equipped to fight the undead… we’d be better off with hammers and maces.”

            “We’d also be better off with more men,” Michael responded, finally tearing his eyes from the undead and looking to everyone. “I’ll be leading the attack, as I’m fully aware that this is not something easy to do. But we’ll get through this.”

            “Damned right we will” Gustav said hastily. “I haven’t suffered this swamp to be turned back by a few corpses.”

            Elias sighed. William shook his head. Although he agreed with Michael, he thought Gustav was underestimating the task before them.

            Tresbos spoke up, saying “we’re behind you, Master Michael.”

            “Aye, Michael,” William said, hefting his mace to his right hand. “At your order.”

            The elves agreed, if somewhat more quietly. Michael smiled, and then motioned to where he wanted William, Tresbos, and Ildun to go.

            Ildun lead the way, with William and Tresbos following behind. Glancing him over, Tresbos said “you’re certain you can handle them, brother Morund?”

            William smiled at Tresbos’ formal tone. “I have faith that God will protect us, don’t worry Tresbos.”

            Tresbos grunted, but seemed sated by that… for a moment. “I ask because once they close with us, I doubt we’ll be much help. I’m better from horseback or with a bow, not fighting up-close on foot. And neither my arrows nor my spear will help much against these bags of bones.”

            Ildun grunted in agreement before hissing for them to be quiet, and William looked over himself. Indeed, he was wearing slightly heavier armor than the other two, and aside from their bows, they had cutting and stabbing weapons. Useless against the fleshless undead.

            His fingers tightened around his mace, and he took a few calming breaths. As they moved into position, he tried to remember his martial lessons from school. Aim for the joints. If you break a man’s arm or leg, you defeat him without killing him. This works just as well against most lesser undead. Usually all they have left are joints. A grim, violent lesson, but one he was glad to recall.

            “Alright,” Ildun said, and began to stamp down a small area in the grass. “We’ll fight them here. William, wait here. Tresbos, we’ll move ahead, and pull them back.”

            “Be careful,” William said hurriedly as the two crept off through the brush. He took a few breaths, doing his best to calm himself. It was a somewhat frightening prospect. Before, he hadn’t had a choice. He either had to confront the undead, or people would’ve died. The heat of the moment had empowered him.

            Now, though… certainly, people were dying from the undead, even if not this very moment. Orcs were dying as well. Which still seemed an awkward gray area for him. His thumb worked idly over his cross as he waited.

            Swift footsteps broke him from his thoughts, along with at least one more soft snap of a bowstring. He rose from his position, taking the cross from his neck once more and facing the undead.

            “Now William!” Ildun yelled as he and Tresbos turned, and William held up the cross. “By God and his divine light, I cast thee to-” ch-TUK! “ngh!”

            William staggered backwards, biting down a scream, and his left hand rose to his right shoulder. A crossbow bolt had punctured his armor. He forced his arm up to block the blow of a war hammer, but this only proceeded in his vision swimming as his muscle tried to move around the bolt.

            “Hellfire, William!” he heard Tresbos yell as his spear helped deflect the blow further. He rammed it into the skeleton’s mouth, pushing back with everything he had. Another crossbow bolt flew from behind, ripping through the air.

            William panted, his body doubled over for a moment before he could focus again. The cross glowed in his hands, and in a swift motion he tried to rip the bolt out. He yelled out as he did so, and took that moment to try and scramble away, off to the side.

            Tresbos pulled back his spear, and the hammer-wielding skeleton came at him again. He saw Ildun fire off a beam of arcane light from his hand, trying to return fire on the crossbowman.

            “God forgive the impur…” he gasped at the pain from his shoulder, and tried to ignore the warm blood running down his arm, “the impurities and weakness of flesh. As my soul is whole, please… please…” damn it, what are the words?!

            He was distracted by fighting between Tresbos and the skeleton. Tresbos’ advantage was the spear’s length, which he was using to keep the skeleton back more than he was to injure. It was a cavalryman’s spear, and meant for thrusting into a foe with leverage, or speed. Close quarters combat was not ideal, and so even if Tresbos hit around the armor, all he met was hard bone.

            Bone. “Please restore my mortal form!” he finished, and there was a flash of white light from his cross and hand. A soothing warmth filtered over the wound, and a strange tugging as his skin knit back together. He could hardly pay that or the soreness that persisted any mind though. He jumped to assist Tresbos, moving in from the side and swinging his mace down against the back of the skeleton’s head. The age old helmet flew off to the side, and the skeleton whirled to strike at William.

            William parried the blow, his teeth grinding as the blow’s forced seemed to snake up his arm to his sore shoulder. But Tresbos took the opportunity to assist. His accuracy with a bow was clear, but it appeared he had an eagle eye with his spear as well. After taking aim, he thrust forward, forcing the spear into the eye-socket of the skeleton, and then tried to bring himself down while pushing up, jerking the skeleton awkwardly. William grabbed the skeleton’s weapon hand with his free arm, then smashed down on the elbow, snapping it off like a tree branch under an axe blade. His next blow was at the skeleton’s head again, but this time, it shattered.

            The skeleton fell, but still kept moving. He heard Ildun yell for assistance, and grabbing his cross, yelled “by the light of God begone!”

            The intense light was not the same as earlier, and didn’t obliterate the undead soldier, but it was enough to force it still, allowing William and Tresbos to assist. “Tresbos, grab that hammer, go after the archer!” William yelled as he headed towards what was attacking Ildun.

            Rounding a tree, he got a good look at the creature. It was undead, but not of the same sort as the rest. It was an orcish skeleton, with thicker bones, a heavy-set jaw, and overall rougher appearance. It also seemed fresher, though the scraps of skin still clinging to its frame were old and gray.

            More fearsome, perhaps, was the claymore it was swinging around one-handed. Ildun fired a blast of arcane light at the creature from close range, which caused it to stumble backwards. William charged forward, hoping to seize the moment. He swung his mace at the creature’s knee, but it parried immediately. Its mouth opened in a silent roar, and it slammed a gauntleted fist into William’s face.

            William staggered backwards, his face more or less unprotected. The creature aimed to swing its sword directly at him, and William saw in his mind, with startling clarity, just how little his chainmail armor would due against such a direct blow.

            Ildun’s saber, small by comparison, clanged against the great sword. It snapped almost immediately, and Ildun flew backwards, but it gave William the moment he needed. He ducked under the sword swing, and swept a leg out to trip the creature. It worked, and not bothering to rise, he thrust his cross into the air, shutting his eyes and yelling “by God and his divine light, I cast thee to thy eternal rest! Begone!”

            The burst of light swam over the area again, and William swore he heard a strange, deep roar as it hit the orcish skeleton, which unlike those from the day before, twisted and distorted for a moment, seemingly in pain, before crumbling. William laid back roughly, taking a deep breath.

            “William!... Saints, Ildun!”

            Tresbos had rushed back over, but instead of moving to William, he moved to Ildun. William jerked upright, his hands and knees scrambling across the brush as he saw exactly what Tresbos was concerned about.

            Ildun’s saber had snapped off and flown directly into Ildun’s eye. William put a hand to his throat, and felt his heart still beating. Thankfully, Ildun was seemingly unconscious.

            “Can you heal him?” Tresbos asked, glancing over his shoulder.

            “Yes, I-” the sudden sounds of combat echoed from nearby. Either the orcs were attacking the undead, or Michael had begun his attack. William suppressed a curse. “I’ll do my best,” he said, focusing for a moment.

            He said a healing prayer, though for a deeper, more complex wound such as this, it took a moment longer. As his hand and cross rested on Ildun’s face, he carefully slid the blade fragment from the eye. Even when the prayer was complete, Ildun looked somewhat poorly.

            “That’s all I can do for him,” William said quietly. He stood, and looking to Tresbos, said “he needs a medicus. One of us needs to get him out here, perhaps back to Zabraska.”

            A loud, inhuman roar came from nearby. Both of them glanced over before locking eyes. William didn’t want to leave Michael and Gustav, but he likewise couldn’t let Ildun rot here…

            “Go join them,” he said, reaching to grab Ildun.

            With a frustrated growl, Tresbos smacked his hand away. “No, damn it, I’ll do it. Your magic will be better suited than my bow. Now go, I’ll get him out here!”

            William hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. He stood and ran for the battle…

            Michael hated waiting as much as Gustav did, though he was far less vocal about it. Especially now, when they were so close. Part of him sincerely wanted to wade into the fray like an invincible paladin or horrifying barbarian, cutting down all who stood in his way. Luckily, a different part of him knew that was a rather unlikely scenario.

            So he waited for their plan to go into action. A few arrows pulled off a few of the skeletons towards the ambush team’s direction.

            “One of those was an orc skeleton,” Elias said.

            “Hrm… I’m sure they can handle it.” Michael had faith in them. He’d worked alongside both Perry and William several times before, and they’d proven themselves more than capable.

            “So how will we do this?” Elias asked, holding his quarterstaff at the ready.

            “You stick close to me while we fight the undead. Just try to keep them from surrounding us.” He half turned to Gustav. “Gus, only use a fireball if things look like they’re going south. Otherwise, wait for a good shot at the orcs, and use a sleep spell.”

            “Alright. I suppose I can-” Elias’ head jerked towards the ambush.

            Gustav picked up on it faster than Michael did that Elias had heard something they hadn’t. “What? What’s going on?”

            “Sounds like they’re having a rough time of it. I think William was hit.”

            Michael’s heart sank. It was his plan, after all. If anyone died, it would be his fault. But if William, of all people, died, that would weight more heavily on his conscience than perhaps anything else.

            “Should we go help them?” Gustav asked, his voice flavored with sincere (and rare) concern.

            A few stray flashes of magic came from the woods. Michael hefted up his shield, but Elias put a hand up. “No, wait… I think I hear William. No one is screaming, so I think they’ll be okay.”

            “I’m not sure I want to take that chance,” Michael said bluntly.

            Elias’ blue eyes were electric looking into Michael’s. “If we run over there, we’ll just draw even more attention to them. If we don’t run, we won’t get there fast enough to make a difference. If anything, we should go on with the plan before more undead break off.”

            Damn the elf, but he was probably right. Michael’s hand was tight around the hilt of his sword, and he looked over at the hole in the wall where the skeletal line was set up. It still wasn’t the best odds, but at this point, what choice did he have?

            “Alright, I’m not seeing any orcs. Gus, get ready to help break things up with a fireball, we need to keep them off Will and Perry. Come on Elias, let’s-”

            Just as another pair of undead soldiers began to make their way towards the other group, a handful of orcs came roaring out of the fort. Two in the lead swung heavy flails, cutting swaths in the undead lines, while several more followed up with swords or clubs.

            “Gus, hold off on the fireball! Elias, with me, we’ll take the straggling undead!”

            Michael burst from the bushes at a full run, sliding his helmet’s face-plate down as he went. It obscured his vision slightly, but better that than taking a shot to the face.

            The two undead were both carrying pole-blades, voulges, and it didn’t take them long to notice Michael. He was a moving mountain of steel and muscle. He charged into the first skeleton with his shield, keeping himself safe from the voulge’s hacking blade. He swung his shield arm again, knocking the undead away, and moved for the second. His sword-swing slammed against the skeleton’s armor, and he felt the skeleton return the blow in kind.

            He thrust forward, aiming for just under the iron plate of the skeleton’s cuirass. An incredibly painful blow for a living opponent, but in this situation, one meant to drag the skeleton closer. It dropped the voulge and made to claw at him with its fleshless hands. The scraping of bone again metal reverberated in his helmet, but he’d settle for an irritation over a real threat any day.

            Bone met steel again, but this time, it was from him bashing his shield against the skeleton repeatedly. Whatever dark force somehow kept the skeleton together was rattled and shaken by the blows, and he finally removed his sword to hack at the limbs of the creature. It ended up a pile of broken, shivering bones.

            He spun around to see Elias successfully occupying the other one, though clearly outclassed. With a warcry Michael charged in from behind, thrust his sword at the base of the skeleton’s spine, causing it lurch forward. Elias slammed his quarterstaff into its chin, knocking it back towards Michael. He slammed the pommel of his blade down on its head, forcing it down, and then kicked it onto its stomach before repeated slamming his boots into the creature’s limbs. It would take several attempts, but he shattered a few of the bones.

            Nearby there was a massive roar, and turning they saw the orcs crying out, victorious over the skeletal lines. But one of them, a large one with a stone axe, pointed over at Michael. “Mahk amed! Lorya emell! Matyalo em’oats!”

            Michael glanced at Elias. “I’m guessing that’s not a ‘thanks for helping.’”

            “Not quite.”

            The orcs charged at Michael and Elias, the big one bringing up the rear. Elias drew his cleaving dagger and flickered from view, while Michael planted his feet firmly on the ground. “Gus! Get ready!”

            The first orc paid for his courage when Michael slashed him across the gut. The leather and bone armor he was wearing didn’t stop Michael’s sword, and he sidestepped the orc. A second tried to bring down a heavy cudgel on Michael’s head. He blocked it with his shield, pushing the orc back, and then driving his sword into the orc’s heart.

            To the orc’s credit, even roaring in pain, it moved forward onto his blade, slamming the cudgel into his helmet. Michael made to rip the blade from the orc, but the orc grabbed onto his hand. It was actually trying to keep the blade in.

            He looked into the orc’s eyes. It gave a weak, yet sadistic, smile.

            Michael released the sword, taking a step back. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid being struck by the massive stone axe wielded by the largest orc. He fell backwards, his free hand moving to his stomach. The armor had stopped the blow, but it had a massive dent in it. The orc came again, and he managed to block the axe with his shield.

            Elias flickered back into view as he appeared on the orc’s back, bringing his knife across the orc’s throat. It gave a gurgling roar, spinning around to try and fling Elias off.

            Michael half-stood and threw himself forward, knocking the orc to the ground. Elias jumped off, skidding across the dirt. He yelled out as a stone from an orcish slinger cracked into the back of his knee.

Hurrying to move over and help Elias, Michael grabbed a cleaver from the large orc’s belt, and hurled it at the slinger. It flew wide, but it was enough to cause the slinger to duck. By the time his next stone flew, Michael stood in front of Elias, his shield catching the blow. Still, the other orcs were closing around them.

One of them lunged towards Michael wielding a heavy war hammer. Michael readied to take the blow, but then heard a shout, and the orc seemed to simply stop, suspended with a foot in the air.

William ran in, grabbing Elias by the arm and dragging him off. Michael hesitated only to realize what was happening, and then followed. He looked back as they ran, and a ball of yellowish smoke slammed into the center of the orc group, rapidly expanding into a cloud. The vapor’s trail lead by to Gustav, standing nearby.

When the smoke faded, the orcs were all on the ground. Michael didn’t hesitate to run back in, ripping his sword from the now dead orc’s chest.

His head snapped towards William, who was helping Elias up. “Will! Where’s Perry and Ildun?”

“Ildun was badly hurt, Tresbos is taking him back to the village. It’s just us.”

“What?” Elias said, looking up at William. “What happened to Ildun?”

“Damn it!” Michael said, looking at the battlefield. The orcs were asleep, but wouldn’t be for long. Reinforcements, for one force or another, wouldn’t be long coming. And they were down two people.

“What do we do?” Gustav asked, running over to Michael.

“Inside!” Michael yelled, pointing with his sword.

“We’re going to be horribly outnumbered!” Elias said, wincing as William helped him limp over.

“Four against two dozen isn’t much different from six against two dozen,” Michael said, “and we’ll fare better in narrower conditions, where larger groups will get bottle-necked.” He shook his head, tilting the facemask on his helmet up. “We don’t have time for this. Inside! Now!”

“But-”

William urged Elias forward, and leading the way in, with Michael waiting to make sure Gustav was moving. Gustav looked around at the dead and sleeping. Michael saw his cheeks pale.

Michael had a feeling he knew about what.

“Inside Gus. Think about how much trouble we’re in later.”

Gustav looked up at him sharply, opening his mouth to say something. But the instinctive sharpness faded to a sort of resignation, and he moved in. Michael brought up the rear.

Now, there was nowhere to go but down.

Writer's Note: Valor, Part 1

Hey guys, this clearly isn't a story update. I wanted to put up some sort of short story, but I couldn't think of anything that I couldn't also just work into Valor at some point. I'm a lazy bastard like that.

However, that isn’t to say I haven’t been doing work. As I said in the comment below Chapter 4, I’m working on making sure I know where I’m going with Part 2. I have a rough outline of things, but I leave quite a bit of wiggle-room for the story to develop. Part 1 actually ended up being much longer than I expected, though for different reasons. I actually cut things I thought would make it end, or ditched “good ideas” at the last minute to not break the story’s flow.

I can say I’ve done some rather heavy editing in for Chapters 3 and 4. Enough so that I’d recommend reading Chapter 4 again if you already have. I was somewhat rushed to get it up on time, and reading back through it, it shows. Here’s the biggest example, and the biggest change.

In Chapter 3, Ildun acts rather grateful for William’s help. More than Elias, even. Yet, in the original version of Chapter 4, when William expressed remorse towards the dead orc, Ildun ended up mocking him and his religion.

I won’t lie; Ildun’s kind of a dick. Or at least, he’s supposed to be. But that seemed a bit too far, a bit too easy, and a bit too contradictory towards Ildun’s past interaction with William. Likewise, William then turned around and kind-of-not-really-maybe threatened Ildun. Which I felt was in-character, but if Step 1 was wrong, Step 2 couldn’t be right either.

So I changed it. Ildun still clearly wouldn’t heal an orc, and tries to express that, but he’s far more tactful about it. Likewise, rather than becoming angry at Ildun, William focuses that more internally, thinking about some of the racism and prejudice typically associated with his religion.

What can I say? I’ve expressed before this is very much a work-in-progress, and though I’ll try not to make too many huge changes, there tends to be a direct correlation between how tired and how inspired I am… which means I may FORGET entire character interactions, apparently.

Thanks for reading. No idea if we’ll be back in full-swing next week, but I’ll keep you informed!

Valor: Chapter 4

            Not long after Elias had woken, they set off. It was somewhat exasperating, but he knew it had been coming. Ildun griped, but so long as Elias’ coin was going to his pocket, he’d go along; at least until anything too violent or unexpected happened. He had some doubts as to how steady Ildun would be under extreme pressure. He was brave, but more acquainted to less dreary places than this, clearly.

            “We don’t even know if this village near Goldbottom is inhabited by friendly people.” Ildun sneered the name the humans had given Tagen Rynns, and honestly Elias didn’t blame him there. Especially as it wasn’t even a good translation.

            “As you’ve shown,” Michael responded, glancing down from his horse, “trying to force our way through this swamp at night would be dangerous.”

            “It’s dark enough as it is,” said the horseman whose name Elias kept losing. He honestly seemed somewhat of a boring sort, looking much like the human guards around Aurosimmar. He’d have to ask if he had family there. Otherwise the resemblance was uncanny.

            “Humans,” Ildun muttered quietly, provoking an amused smirk from Elias. Honestly, he could see in the forest quite fine. He understood humans weren’t quite as geared towards such conditions though.

            Although occasionally the humans got jumpy at some sound or another, especially at first, it began to fade with time. It didn’t hurt that Elias, Gustav, and occasionally even William would cast spells to peer deeper into the swamp around them.

            Of course, Elias didn’t say how much that wouldn’t show them. After all, they could detect beings of evil intent, or magical origin. A hungry animal, however, would count as neither. Nor, necessarily, would territorial orcs register.

            Speaking of, they’d travel not much longer after that particular thought had crossed Elias mind when Michael put up his hand, motioning for everyone to stop. He’d come to the top of a hill, and being on top of a decent-sized horse, he had more perspective than most.

            “Perry, come with me. There’s something on the road I want to make sure is safe.”

            “Are you sure, Michael?” William asked concerned.

            Michael gave little more than a nod before he and the horseman (Perry, if Elias could hold onto it this time) made their way down the road. Elias hastened to the top of the hill to see what they had, and in the dim light, he saw Michael had dismounted and was looking over a body on the road.

            Michael stood straight and, surprisingly, shouted for Elias. That made the hair on the back of Elias’ neck stand-up. He ran down the hill, stopping only to regain his footing on a muddy patch the horses had churned up, before coming to Michael and Perry.

            “Please,” he said before anything else, “be quiet. We’re safer during the day than at night, but-”

            Michael nodded, glancing at Perry, who was barely containing a knowing smirk. “Perry actually just said the same thing. I’ll admit, I forget myself. Still… does this one look familiar to you, Elias?”

            Michael stepped aside so that Elias could see the body. Leaning in, he could see the wounds were vicious and unrestrained. Knicks and cuts along the arms, and many scars the body over, but the killing blows were several deep slashes and stabs in the back, if Elias was to be asked.

            The skin was a grayish-brown, and the blood itself somewhat yellow in tint. Not to mention the rough facial features, pointed ears, and size, there was no doubt to Elias that it was an orc. He glanced around, and saw the faint imprints of skeletal tracks nearby, some mottled with the orc’s blood.

            “I didn’t get a good look at them,” Elias admitted, “but he certainly looks to be in hunting gear,” he said, leaning in tugging at the light leather armor, “and that’s what got caught by the undead last night. A hunting party.”

            Michael frowned, tilting his head to side slightly as he looked at it. Elias stood up straight, brushing his hands off. “Something wrong?”

            “I guess I just pictured them… greener.”

            Elias smiled lightly. “In life, he probably was… as we turn pale, they turn a grayish brown.”

            “I guess the Green Blood tavern is based on fairy tale, hmm Perry?” Michael said, glancing up at the horseman.

            “Quite, sir,” Perry said, though didn’t take his gaze from the forest. He was dedicated to his work, Elias couldn’t doubt that.

            “God on his throne,” came another voice, and Elias turned around. The others had been picking their way down the hill, and now Michael and Ildun had gathered around the body.

            “They got this one good, hmm?” Ildun observed with altogether too much detachment for Elias’ taste. He had no love for the orcs, but he wouldn’t wish this sort of death on anyone.

            Judging from his face, William felt the same, but said nothing, instead looking down at the body. Ildun must have caught that, and after rolling his eyes, said “I wouldn’t worry too much William. I get that you have to save life, but I can almost guarantee this one wouldn’t return the favor.

            “No,” William said sadly, staring down at the body. “The Church only commands I save the lives of those who are good and pure, innocent and honorable… which some claim means only humans.”

            Ildun gave Elias a wary look, but Elias shrugged it away. William seemed a good sort, and it wasn’t as though Elven society didn’t consider elves superior to humans. Or maybe Elias was just more used to it.

            Gustav, thankfully, broke the tension, as he arrived the same time as those with the supplies. Giving the body a look of distaste, he glanced around and threw his hands into the air. “Well? Yes? Let’s move the damned thing if that’s the point.”

            “Not really,” Michael started, “more just trying to-”

            “Then let’s go,” Gustav said, urging his horse over the body and motioning for the workers to follow. They looked to Michael for a moment, who nodded his permission, rolling his eyes.

            Elias grinned. He knew that expression. “Not even death will stop Gus when he sets his mind to something.”

            That provoked a laugh from Michael. “Too true, well, come on. He is right, we can’t spend too long looking after the dead.”

            Elias nodded, and began down the road, rushing to get ahead so to keep pace with the horses better…

            Even though the sun was setting, William’s mind was still a few hours and miles back. Ildun’s comment was ringing in his ears, and the sight of the dead orc burned into his eyes. He kept asking himself the same question.

            Would I have saved it?

Ildun had been right, of course. The orc would most likely, upon being healed, just outright attack them. He’d heard tell that some orc tribes were able to live more or less peacefully with civilized folk, but more often than not, orcs simply raided and plundered when they saw fit. Such savagery certainly fell outside of God’s protection.

            Likewise, while the Asarian Church was fairly welcoming of other races, particularly dwarves, he had read the works of some Triune scholars saying that only humans should be protected by God, being his chosen people.

            Part of him felt his comment on such matters had disturbed their elven companions, but the topic was too distant to breach now. Distant, and buried under his far deeper thoughts of whether a savage life was somehow worth less than a “civilized” one. It was a train of thought he was struggling heavily with.

            “William!” Michael’s voice broke through his stormy thoughts, and William looked to him with a start. He really shouldn’t have allowed himself to be so distracted.

            “There you are, you looked a hundred miles away,” Michael said with an amused smile.

            “Only a few years away,” William responded, and didn’t elaborate further when Michael gave him an inquisitive look. “What is it you need Mike?”

            “We’re getting close to the village’s supposed location, and I was hoping you and Gus could give a quick scan of the area.”

            William frowned slightly, but nodded, and he and Gustav rode to the front of the line. Gustav looked over, cocking an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you? Look like you just bit into something sour.”

            “I know I offered my magic,” William said quietly, “but the Lord’s magic is meant for more than looking around.”

            “So is mine,” Gustav retorted, “but I’d rather know what I was getting into, so swallow your pride and do it.”

            Discontented, William took a breath and focused, and Gustav did the same. As he’d done the day before, William was able to see the world in terms of aura, though only those of evil purpose and intent would truly stand out. He saw nothing. Still, something pricked at the back of his neck.

            “Well, I see some more magic than the rest of the swamp, but that’s to be expected if elves live here,” Gustav said. “Anything on your end?”

            “No, but-”

            “Well, onward then.”

            How quickly things changed! Although William had just been griping over inaction and using his powers to sense things, he reached out and pulled Gustav back, almost pulling him off his horse. “Still yourself for a moment Gus, I want to see something.”

            Gustav had squawked indignantly, and he urged his horse back slightly, grumbling. “What? You see no evil, I see some magic, and-”

            “Evil and hostile are different things,” William said bluntly. “Besides, I think what I fear would fall under neither term, technically.”

            Gustav asked more, but William ignored him, shutting his eyes and said a quiet prayer. His vision expanded, his spirit pulling from his body slightly (or so it felt) as he saw things he shouldn’t be able to see. Further up the road was a trench, covered with branches. A few boards offered save passage, while the rest of the trench was filled with sharpened wooden spines. There was also a chest-high trip-wire, thin as spider-silk, and his vision saw the wire connected to the trigger of crossbow, firmly tied between into the crook of a tree and its branch.

            “They certainly don’t want visitors,” William said as his eyes opened, and he relayed to Gustav and the others what he’d seen.

            “Are you positive there’s nothing more?” Tresbos asked.

            William shook his head. “I can’t be one hundred percent certain, no, but I wouldn’t expect God to warn me of two to see me slain by the third.”

            William glanced over at Ildun, cocking an eyebrow. The man seemed more focused on the path before them, but William swore he had heard a derisive cough. He sighed, and began forward. “I’ll go through first.”

Urging his horse forward, William lead the way. He moved his horse around the trench, and then when near the trip-wire, he reached out, his mace in hand, and snapped the wire with a quick blow. There was the sharp sound of metal snapping in the woods, and the crossbow bolt flew through the air. William couldn’t see exactly where, but close enough that he felt his breath catch. Bravery and foolishness went hand in hand, he thought with a smile.

He heard another horse behind his, and glanced back. Michael was close on his heels, with Tresbos not far behind Michael. The others were still somewhat hesitant. William smiled, and continued leading them on.

It wasn’t until William, Michael, and Tresbos had progressed a fair distance that the others began to warily follow. William turned his horse slightly, to wait and watch. Despite his faith in God’s protection, he wasn’t one to blindly follow. Just as a stern father may tan a boy’s hide to teach him respect and responsibility, so too may God. Luckily, though, everyone made it past the trench fine, and no other traps revealed themselves. At the very least, if God had a lesson to teach here, it wasn’t a violent one.

The sun was falling fast, and as soon as everyone had made it past the trench, Michael urged them onward. “Come on then, let’s find this village before nightfall.”

No one would argue that, thankfully. Though the sun still had some time yet before it sank beneath the horizon, the thick swamp seemed to swallow much of the light, and it was already far darker than anyone, even the magically inclined seemed a bit more nervous.

Michael wouldn’t blame them. On the contrary, he understood it far too well. There just seemed something deep and primordial about the darkness. Michael wasn’t prone to deep thought, but as he rode on, he glanced to his right, scanning the darkness for unseen threats. He realized the futility of course, and looked forward, only to realize there was no change. They had no torches on the advice of Elias, who claimed the light would only give them away.

He wasn’t used to working in such darkness. He supposed it had been a luxury of his class that he could pick and choose when he helped the guard, and for the first time in many years he wondered if he was cut out for this sort of thing. Shadows of the branches, shifted by the wind, made his eyes dart back and forth.

“The path is more stable here” Tresbos said, and after a moment Michael realized he could feel it too, even if he couldn’t see it.

“We must be getting close,” Michael said, urging Perimor forward slightly.

“Careful, m’lord,” Tresbos hissed after him, and Michael thought he heard protests from further back too.

He didn’t get much of a chance to look back before a shape fell from the trees, knocking him off of Perimor. It was silent, and he felt its weight as they both slammed into the dirt. Perimor’s hooves slammed nearby in panic.

Before Michael could react, he felt a blow against his helm, striking just off from the opening of the eye. It was dizzying, but he shifted his head to the side so the next hit also struck the helmet.

“Blakdad kuul,” the being whispered harshly, before he saw the hand rise again. It looked like a mace or hammer of some kind. “Nu onkuinuu!”

As it fell, Michael’s instincts finally kicked in, and his hand shot up to grab his assailant’s wrist. Then he tried to twist them around so Michael had the leverage. His foe was rather light, so he wasn’t able to hold Michael down, but he did manage to wriggle his way out of Michael’s grasp. Michael grabbed for his sword.

Suddenly light ballooned around them, and Elias yelled out “hid! Hidat! Serica lorn!”

Michael wasn’t sure exactly what was said, but Elias stood between him and his foe, though his cleaving blade was brandished. His foe was now in plain-sight, magical light being generated by Ildun nearby. His foe… was an elf.

The elf said something to Elias, and there was a brief exchange. Michael took a moment to study his foe. A leather cuirass, but no other armor, just normal clothing. In his hand was a hammer, and though it was clearly capable of killing a man, it looked more built for work than war.

“Everyone stay calm,” Elias said, “and put down your weapons. Everyone.”

Michael glanced around, and saw he was far from the only one with his weapon at ready. Tresbos had his bow trained on the elf, while William’s mace was clenched in his hand. Michael grit his teeth, and matched his assailant’s gaze. It was not a look you gave someone you didn’t plan on hurting. Michael was sure his wasn’t much different.

Hesitantly, Michael sheathed his sword and stood up straight. William followed suit. Tresbos…

“At ease Perry,” Michael said, and after another reluctant moment, the cavalryman eased his weapon back. He sent Michael an unimpressed glance that Michael gave no response to.

The newcomer’s gaze shifted from Michael to Perry to William to Elias, and then back to Michael. “Who are you?” he asked briskly.

“My name is Michael Niels. My companions are Willi-”

The elf chopped at the air with his hand. “I don’t care about your names human. What are you doing here?”

Michael felt his face grow hot, but he took a deep breath and continued. “Taskurr Swamp has come back into the possession of the kingdom of Torem under King Peter. I am hoping to be Lord of this land, and protector of those within.”

The elf sneered. “I thought I’d heard the humans were coming back. Not that it seems like you ever left, with your haunted remains still walking the swamps.”

“Do you have a name?” Michael asked evenly.

“I do,” the elf said back… and then gave no more.

Michael gave an exasperated sigh. “Right. We’re looking for a nearby settlement to rest at before we move on to Goldbottom tomorrow. Do you know of it?”

“Goldbottom?”

“No, not that, the settlement.”

“Where in… what’s Goldbottom?” the elf asked, suspicion and irritation flavoring his voice. Michael set a hand on the hilt of his sword, but looked to Elias, nodding.

After a moment, Elias got the picture. “Oh, ah, Tagen Rynns. We’re aiming to clean it out and reclaim it.”

The elf started, his eyes widening at the prospect. He said something in Elven, and then Elias said something else back. He thought he caught his name. Michael didn’t like the language barrier. It left him more out of the loop than he liked…

“Tagen Rynns? You want to cleanse Tagen Rynns?!”

“Yes,” Elias responded back, in Elven. The other elf seemed to hardly believe it. “That’s our goal. Cleanse it, and then Lord Niels will take over…”

“One sort of scum for another, hmm?”

Elias winced, and glanced around. Ildun was smirking, while most of the others were somewhere between confused and irritated. Except Gustav, who was just irritated, as Gustav could speak Elven more or less fluently.

“These ‘scum’ won’t hunt you and kill you for sport,” Elias said bluntly.

Ildun broke in here, saying “although whatever does will notice this light soon enough. Take us to your village, damn it.” For effect, he waved his hand around in the air, the glowing orb on the end of it causing the shadows to shift around them.

The other elf fixed Ildun with a steely glare, but finally gave an exasperated breath, before dropping into Toremen. “Fine. My name is Bisa Banao.”

“Banao?” Ildun repeated.

“Yes, problems?” Banao snapped back, and Ildun shook his head.

“Good. Our village is this way, though I’m afraid we’ve limited lodging. The rest of you will have to sleep outside.”

Michael nodded. “That’s fine. Do you keep watch at your village?”

“Of course” Banao said indignantly. “You have to keep watch constantly in this blasted swamp.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Well, if you’d have it, some of our men could help with the watch, to give some of your people a rest.”

Banao looked Michael over suspiciously. “We’ll see. Come.”

Elias wished he could say he was surprised when Banao moved off the road and into the underbrush, but he wasn’t. “Our horses will have a hard time of this,” William said as they began to pick through the mud.

“You brought horses into a swamp, not me,” Banao said without pity.

Ildun leaned towards Elias and whispered “I like this guy.”

“You would,” Elias said back, and then in a low tone, asked “what did you make of his name? Had you heard of it?”

“No,” Ildun said. Elias gave him a skeptical look, and Ildun sent a confused one back at him before sighing. “I forget, you’re almost human, and young too. Most family names have one of a handful of common roots, and his has none of those.”

“Oh,” Elias said, and though it explained Ildun’s reaction, he seethed at the comment about how human he was. Was this the fate his parents had condemned him too? Too alien for the humans, too foreign for the elves? I suppose Gustav’s plan is a good one then, he thought to himself. A member of a human court for an elven land.

They trudged through the swamp, the humans having to dismount and lead their horses. Elias had fallen back towards Gustav, who was no more pleased at having to get into the mire at much of this trip, as far as Elias could tell.

“Robes were a poor choice,” he said bluntly, yanking on the cloth to untangle it from the swamp’s foliage.

Elias looked down at his own dress, a mix of light, breathing cloth with leather boots, bracers, and a cuirass to match. “Aye, I believe they were.”

Giving another yank as he became entangled in brambles, he shot Elias a glare. Elias shrugged. “What, I’m agreeing with you.”

“Not that,” Gustav hissed, but jerked his head towards the front of the line, where Ildun and Banao were leading them. “Your rather vocal new friend.”

Elias flushed. “He didn’t know you could understand him, Gus.”

“That makes it better?” Gustav grumbled, jerking as his robes became caught once more. This time he reached to his belt, pulled out a small curved dagger, and began to saw away at the affected piece.

Elias waited, glancing around the swamp casually. Unlike most of the humans, Gustav excluded, he could still see somewhat, so the swamps weren’t quite as intimidating. Still, the thought entered his mind that there was something he couldn’t see, so he quietly cast a spell to better see malevolent auras. Nothing around them…

Gustav had noticed the spellcasting, though. “Have you checked Banao?”

“Yes,” Elias lied, glancing towards the front of the line. Luckily, he was still right. Sighing, he said “Gus, you had to expect this. I told you most elves, especially those in the Borderlands, aren’t fond of humans.”

“As much as orcs and undead?” Gustav asked, again proving a point with a question. Elias glanced down at the mud, and then helped Gustav get unstuck once more.

“Give them time,” Elias said after a few minutes had passed. “They probably don’t know much about humans other than stories, and the undead that wander around… or hell, some may be old enough to have fought humans in the last war.”

“Hrrm, I’ll concede that last point,” Gustav grumbled, leaving Elias with what felt like victory, if a slight one.

When they finally reached the village, Elias quickly saw they certainly weren’t dealing with any vestiges of High Elven culture. No, these people were, either by circumstance or by choice, not the sort who needed prestige and fanciful decoration in everything they did.

It was a handful of small huts, suspended above the ground by stilts or bound to nearby trees. There was little ground to walk on in-between them, instead most navigation done by small rafts or rope bridges. An older elf, followed by a pair of others, both wielding axes, met them at the “path” to the village.

“Who and what are these, Bisa?”

“Humans,” Bisa said at once. Ildun and Elias glanced at each other. Bisa rolled his eyes. “For the most part. They’ve come to cleanse Tagen Rynns, amongst other things.”

“Now what the devil are they saying?” Elias heard Michael whisper harshly to William.

The older elf looked at Michael. “Is that one the leader?”

“I…” Banao looked to Elias and Ildun, unsure.

Elias stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Lord Niels is the leader of this expedition, sir. He-”

“He can speak for himself,” the elder said, and motioned to Michael. “You!” he said, switching to Toremen. “Lord Niels, is it? Over here.”

Michael strode forward as confidently as he could, and he perhaps felt he had reason to be. Elias was the tallest elf here, which put him about the same height as Gustav. Michael towered over all of them.

“I am Ormakin Zabrao, Elder of this village. What is your business in Zabraska?”

“My apologies for our intrusion,” Michael said evenly, bowing his head, “and for my ignorance. Is Zabraska the name of your village?”

Ormakin nodded curtly. “Yes, this village is our home amidst hell, but away from the jackals of the Empire.”

Ildun physically jerked at that, and his mouth opened to speak. Elias promptly elbowed him in the gut, and smiled sheepishly at Ormakin’s guards when they looked their way. Still, it put a pit in Elias’ stomach, or rather, made him notice one that had been there.

“I understand your suspicions and security, Elder. I too would not be so trusting of strangers in such a hostile land.”

“Good. Then you understand why I want to tell you take your chances in the swamp and leave us be.”

“I ask for only one night’s rest,” Michael said quickly. “At least until we prove ourselves. Have you heard of the land’s exchange between-”

“Our Empress and your King? This land belongs to no one but the orcs and dead, no matter how much the high and mighty think otherwise.”

“I hope to change that, sir.”

The Elder’s eyes narrowed. “Oh do you?”

Elias fidgeted, and leaned in towards Michael. In as low of tones as he could muster, he said “people living the swamp who call the government jackals-”

“Yes yes,” Michael said dismissively, and then looked at Ormakin straight on. “I don’t intend on changing your lives for the worse, Elder, but I do intend on changing them. The Swamps of Taskurr have spent too long without security, without peace. I hope to cleanse, ah, Tagen Rynns, and from there use it as a stronghold to help the current inhabitants of the swamp live fuller, happier lives.”

“Bold words for one so young,” the Elder said. “Lean down.”

Michael glanced at Elias and Ildun. Ildun merely shrugged. Elias nodded. Michael leaned down, and Ormakin looked directly into his eyes, intensely staring into them.

“… You may enter,” Ormakin said finally, provoking a sigh of relief from Elias. “Secure your horses here. We will make room in one of the huts for you to rest, but it will still only fit half your number.”

“We’ll gladly volunteer some of our men to assist in your watch,” Michael added, “as thanks for your hospitality.”

Ormakin merely nodded, and ordered his guards to follow him. Calling back, he said “Bisa, make sure our guests are comfortable.”

Elias could tell Banao wasn’t too pleased to hear that, but looked to them. “Alright then. Figure out who’ll be helping with the watch, and we’ll get that squared away. They’ll need some time to clear one of the houses anyways.”

Elias sighed in relief. Although the situation had started off rather tense, it appeared that, at least for tonight, they would be safe. He looked over at Michael as he began to work out the watch, speaking with William and Tresbos. Elias took a few strides over to Gustav, who was ‘admiring’ one of the Elven homes.

“Well… one step closer,” Elias said, giving Gustav a small smile.

Gustav nodded. “Mmm… true. But why do I feel like I just stepped in something awful on the way here?”

Elias laughed, and after a moment Gustav chuckled, but Elias could see with a second glance that Gustav wasn’t entirely kidding. Elias’ laugh faded off, though he forced a smile. “Well… I had better help Michael,” he added before turning off. The pit in his stomach seemed that much bigger now.