Cenric watched as Athgar suddenly came alive, his surprise complete. The Therengian's hand thrust out, sending a sheet of flame at the last of Ardhelm's men, striking his foe's arm and igniting his tunic. The man ran into the woods, screaming in pain and terror, his attack forgotten.
Cenric charged forward, but a large, green figure appeared right in front of him. He only had a moment to recognize Shaluhk's features before a long knife was plunged deep into his chest. He died instantly, falling to lie amongst the pine needles.
Two men were left, but at the sight of their leader going down, they both turned, running for their lives.
"Do not let them get away," called out Kargen. He drew back his warbow, letting loose with another arrow. It sank into one man's leg, causing him to fall. Moments later, Shaluhk was upon him, her dagger finishing him off with an efficient slash to the throat.
Urughar took out the last man, running him down, and then his axe took his foe in the back of the head.
The only sounds that remained were the crackling of a fire and the screams of the man set aflame.
"I've got him," called out Athgar, disappearing into the gloom of the woods. A deep thud echoed back to the camp, and then the screaming stopped. Shortly thereafter, Athgar returned, his face dour. "That's the last of them."
"What now?" asked Natalia.
"You two will continue to Ebenstadt," said Kargen. "We three shall see to the bodies."
"Are you sure they all had to die?" she asked.
"We had no choice. Were they to return, the king would, doubtless, send more. This way, all he knows is that they disappeared. He will have no idea whether they were successful or not."
"Kargen is right," said Shaluhk. "It was the only way. You should head out as soon as possible. Once we are done here, we will continue with our objective to unite the Orc tribes."
Interim
Autumn 1104 SR
Stanislav Voronsky sat back in his chair, putting his boots up onto the table. The smell of stale beer drifted up from the common room below. He winced, thinking of the mayhem that lay only one floor below him.
He had come to Ebenstadt at the bidding of the Grand Matriarch, Illiana Stormwind, but now he wondered if that choice had been wise. Natalia was known to have been in the company of a Fire Mage, a Therengian by the name of Athgar, and the Matriarch had thought it likely they would seek refuge amongst his people. It was a reasonable thought, but Stanislav had to question if the east was worth hiding out in when a Holy Crusade was about to commence. Surely Natalia knew the area was embroiled in war?
He sighed, reaching into his tunic to pull forth the letter from Illiana. The head of the Stormwind family had asked for his help, revealing that Natalia was her granddaughter, but now he had to ask himself if she weren't playing some game of power.
As a mage hunter, he was used to such things, for finding students for the Volstrum was, in and of itself, a bit of a game. Now that he was older, however, he began to wonder if his choice of profession was as honourable as he had once thought. Was Natalia the illegitimate daughter of Illiana's son, or was he being used? He tucked the letter away, unread, and lowered his feet. It mattered little whether or not she had lied. The important thing was finding Natalia and keeping her safe. And who better to do that than the very man who had originally found her?
He rose, throwing on a cape to ward off the cold of autumn, then made his way downstairs to get something to eat. The Crow and Sickle was a noisy place, filled with mercenaries and warriors seeking fame and fortune. The promise of a new crusade burned bright in the hearts of these men. Many of them lived on the edge, enjoying life while they could.
At the bottom of the stairs he halted as a drunken warrior squeezed past him, his hands around the waist of a young woman. He was reminded of days past when he had tried to settle down and raise a family, but it was not to be. Now he was an old man, and the closest he had ever come to a real friendship was Natalia, a thought that sobered him. He must find her before the family did!
Carefully, he threaded his way through the room only to spot a familiar grey tabard. Altering his course, he steered towards its occupant, taking a seat opposite.
"Brother Diomedes," he began, "so good to see you again. Can I offer you a drink?"
The Cunar Knight stared back, his face, at first, stern, but it soon cracked a smile as he recognized his associate. "Stanislav, so good to see you again. I'd heard you were in town, but to actually see you is quite another matter."
"And you, Brother." He raised his hand, signalling the waitress for a couple of ales. "Tell me, how have things been going?"
"Well enough, I suppose." The Temple Knight leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Things are starting to move. The campaign will begin soon enough."
Stanislav's eyes swept the room. "I assume these are some of your recruits?"
"Not the order's," said the knight, "but certainly auxiliaries to the Holy Army. This lot falls under the command of the Duke of Braymoor."
"Is that a good thing?"
The Temple Knight smiled. "Some might think so, but to tell the truth, the man has little experience. Still, they're only here to augment my own order."
"Any word on when the campaign might begin?"
"Likely not till the end of the month. Why? Interested in joining?"
"Me? I'm far too old for that."
"Oh, I don't know. You
