Things were starting to finally settle down after an intense shouting session had erupted between the various members of the expedition’s gathered leadership. Words had been said. Insults were thrown about. Arguments had raged over who was to blame, and fists were raised in anger over nearly everything that had happened during the past two days. It had taken all of the cooler heads and some of the more exhausted minds to finally settle everything down. If she had been asked for her opinion regarding the situation, then Velicion would have claimed that “tense” would barely begin to scratch the surface as to how it felt inside of the tent.

All in all, it was one of the calmer war councils she had the misfortune of residing in.

For now, the elven sorceress sat patiently while she waited for the grey-haired commander of this bizarre expedition to calm the last of the frayed nerves that still lingered in the last of the rabble-rousers. Her feet danced and swayed in the air as she a gentle hand over her lap while she watched the gauntleted fist of Captain Boris slam repeatedly against the very desk that he was so proud of.

“Has everyone introduced themselves, or do I need to go around the tent one last time?” The man said sarcastically as he looked at the many faces of the men, and woman, who had gathered inside of the jam-packed tent. “Am I going to be interrupted for what feels like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes?”

An awkward silence followed Captain Boris’s words as a few of the men coughed to clear their throats. Wood creaked under pressure as those around the sorceress struggled to maintain a comfortable position in their crudely designed seats.

“Fantastic.” The frustrated commander claimed as he straightened out his back to stand tall over the few individuals who had the misfortune of standing during this heated moment. “I’m going to go over what we know one last time, and I don’t care what anyone has to say or if they wish to interject about what may or may not have been the cause of this. You’ll save everything for when I’m done or if I want to hear what your damn opinions are, is that clear?”

A few of the men nodded their heads while the vast majority chose to do nothing, save for watching their commander begin to explain the timeline of the day’s events.

“First,” Captain Boris said as he walked towards the front of his desk while he pointed a single finger up into the air. “These creatures had been spotted just as the sun began to crest over the horizon. Next, we saw that these things were well organized and had the beginnings of a multitude of camps built within an hour of them surrounding us.” The grey-haired commander paused in his explanation as he waited to see if someone dared to cast doubt on the man’s timeline. When no one moved to oppose him, the man continued. “As for the unknowns, we don’t know who their leader is. We don’t know how or why they became aware of our presence and we damn sure don’t know their numbers.”

The captain crossed his arms and leaned back against the desk as his eyes scanned the room around him, wondering for a second time if anyone would dare to speak up. Velicion followed the man’s gaze as she wondered if he had hoped for someone to speak their mind, or to at least make their presence known in some manner or another. When no one made to move against the commander’s words, the grizzled veteran pushed the conversation forward.

“Vasliv,” Captain Boris turned his attention towards a meek and boyish-looking sergeant who appeared surprised at his name being mentioned. “What’s your estimate as to the number that our enemy has brought for us to bear?”

Vasliv stammered out a wordless reply as his eye’s darted in every direction that they could while the boy’s mind slowly caught up to the realization that he had been asked a question. When compared to those around him, the stuttering sergeant was on the younger side in terms of age and Velicion had a sneaking suspicion that the man had difficulty with being put on the spot.

The sorceress appeared to be spot-on in her assumption as one of the boy’s companions leaned over towards an older gentleman and whispered about the kids' struggle’s when dealing with those of a higher rank than him. Velicion chuckled quietly to herself as she watched the boy fumble out of his seat to give his answer.

“C-considering that we’ve extended the encampment’s walls out to an area that would comfortably fit around ten-thousand men,” The young man’s brow became flushed with sweat as he struggled to voice the words that his mind wished for him to speak. “Then we must assume that the enemy has an equal number to that or possibly higher.”

No one spoke as the boy continued to blunder out the last of his thoughts. Those within the tent were well aware of the massive threat they now faced. Except for the nearby lake, enemy encampments had been set up all along Ruined Home’s walls and that meant that unless their adversary had stretched themselves thin to cover the entirety of the human’s encampment then the only way for the army that stood outside of their walls at this very moment had to be a sizeable force.

“Does anyone wish to dispute or add to what Vasliv had to offer?” Captain Boris asked of the crowd.

There were a few whispers that were audible among the stern crowd, and Velicion watched on in silence as a number of men that sat opposite of her rolled their eyes at their commander’s words. They were displeased with whatever game the Captain was playing, but they appeared to have no intent on voicing their opinions.

“Very well then,” Captain Boris said as he pushed away from the desk and moved towards the center of the tent. “Now I know that it’s been a long time since our kingdom has gone to war. For the past several generations we’ve lived in peace with our neighbors and the only source of experience for the vast majority of us are the various packs of bandits who roam the countryside or the multitude of pirates that plague our shores.”

Velicion couldn’t help but cringe at what she heard. If these men were delirious enough to believe that running down a band of starving and ill-equipped peasants was the same as facing off against an enemy of unknown size and capabilities then the sorceress dreaded the idea of seeing the outcome of this siege.

If the unthinkable were to happen, then she needed to make preparations for a quick and expedient departure in order to ensure the safety of those under her care.

“Do you have something on your mind, Velicion?” Captain Boris’s voice drew the sorceress back to reality and away from the foundations of her budding plan.

Velicion blinked away the cowardly thoughts and was shocked to see that nearly all eyes were focused on her. The sorceress couldn’t help but give the men a pleasant smile as she spoke. “I wouldn’t dare to impose my thoughts on the matter when it’s obvious that you already have a handle on things.”

“No, please.” The man said as he politely gestured for the sorceress to make her thoughts known to those around her. “If you have something that could help us in our time of need, then by all means…”

Velicion stared hard at the man as she crossed her arms. The sorceress wasn’t a fan with the way that the man had put her on the spot, and she contemplated on the idea of trying to flip this around on the man himself.

The sorceress clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she wondered if she should instead speak her mind.

“If you don’t mind me being blunt, then very well.” She had decided that it was for the best to speak the truth and to offer up her limited experiences when it came to matters such as warfare.

Velicion tapped her fingers against her slender arms as she contemplated what she should say to those gathered around her. The sorceress understood that she needed to be careful with her choice in words; otherwise it would throw fire onto an already volatile situation. She was also mindful of the fact that she needed to be careful when speaking of her experiences, lest she reveal the true nature of her experience in all things warfare.

The truth of the matter was that she had never received the training, nor had she the desire to learn, of the more dangerous arts one would often associate with magical warfare and her field of expertise reflected that. In fact, the first time that she had ever been in a situation that was even remotely similar to their current situation was all the way back when she had first been chosen to join the Witch King’s harem. The man had dragged her along with him to help quash a demonic incursion in a vital port city that was known to harbor cults of demon worshippers, and she had mainly served as an enchantress to help keep her master’s various enchantments in proper order as well as to help perpetuate the tradition of having the combined elven people’s one true king always surrounded by loyal and doting women. A tradition that had been alive since time immemorial.

There was also the fact that the man was a sex maniac and he had held nightly, drug-fueled orgies with the other members of his harem that had been brought along as well. She would later have come to the conclusion that sex was the sole reason as to why her master had even brought his harem along with him as the man was more than capable enough to cast spells that required groups of casters all by his lonesome.

Just thinking back on those days forced a sigh out of the sorceress. She was a lot younger back then and way too eager to drop what she was doing to please her ruler’s wild desires. In a sense, she missed those days, but she was also glad that she now held a more authoritative position in the Witch King’s harem. Velicion was free to do as she pleased on most days, and the sorceress was eager to let the younger girl’s envelope themselves in the drama that was often associated with a harem.

That wasn’t to say that she never got jealous of them either, but her feelings on the matter wasn’t what mattered at the moment.

“As far as a siege is concerned,” Velicion began after forcing her mind to return to the issue at hand. “Unless the defenders are facing off against a vastly superior force, then numbers aren’t a major factor during most sieges.”

A few of the men nearby nodded their heads at the sorceress’s words but most kept to themselves as they waited for her to continue. “What matters is finding out how the enemy has positioned themselves as well as coming up with a strategy that would allow us to dwindle their numbers to a point where they either give up on the siege in its entirety, or they become desperate enough to launch an assault on our walls.”

“And how do you propose we scout out their lines?” Captain Boris asked the elven woman as she allowed a pause in her explanation to linger longer than she had liked. “We can’t send out scouts for fear of them being slaughtered, and we aren’t able to see much of their lines from our walls. Whoever leads this army was smart enough to hide the majority of their forces behind the tree line.”

Velicion playfully wagged a finger at the man as she gave the captain a knowing smile. “Instead of explaining it with fancy words,” She said cheerfully as she clapped her hands together. “How about I show you gentlemen instead? All I’ll need is a large enough pool of water.”

Velicion ran her fingers gently over the water’s surface as the crystalline liquid splashed against the rims of the wooden basin. Blurred images and malformed shapes slowly began to form in the once calm surface as the sorceress continued to chant words of mystical power. With each flick of her hand, the images within the water became clearer and those gathered around the sorceress could see a bird’s eye view of the forest outside of Ruined Home.

For Velicion, this was an everyday experience, but for the soldiers that had gathered around her, it was as if they were children that had gone to a festival for the very first time. Muddled voices began to reach the sorceress’s ears as the elven woman continued to solidify the spell that she had placed upon the water. The men around her were both shocked and amazed by what they saw.

Multiple camps had been cobbled together by their attackers. Trees had been felled in their dozens while swarms of hideous goblins flowed between the various camps as they worked on an assortment of projects. Each of the clumps of child-sized creatures was accompanied by a handful of orcs as the larger of the two cousin races shouted and pummeled at the sniveling monstrosities. What was even more disturbing for the sorceress was the handful of trolls that moved in and out of the spells vision. These creatures were going to be one of the deadlier obstacles that the expedition would face in their upcoming battles with the besieging army.

“Busy little devils.” A voice to her right had claimed as the sorceress placed her hands over the rims of the basin.

A chorus of agreements and similar sentiments rang out around Velicion as she looked up towards Captain Boris. The man appeared to be lost in his thoughts while he scratched at his beard. The men around him motioned towards various points of interests that had managed to catch their attention in some manner or another.

“Something on your mind, Captain?” Velicion asked as she swiped a finger across the water’s surface, moving the entire image into an entirely different direction than before.

“These troll’s are something to be concerned about, as are the siege engines that I’m seeing the groundwork for.” The man spoke to only himself as his eyes remained focus on the images before him. “The machines are something that we can counter, but the trolls are another matter entirely.”

Captain Boris tapped a finger against the bottom of his chin as he remained quiet. His mind enveloped itself in a deluge of scenarios that forced the man to think deeply on how to counter every one of them. Eventually, the commander turned his attention towards the sorceress. “I understand that this is but one of many spells in your arsenal, but I’m wondering if you know of anything that could help us in our time of need. Are there any spells that are primarily used in sieges?”

“Of course there are,” Velicion said assuredly to the audible delight of a few nearby soldiers. “There are plenty of those who have dedicated their entire lives to the arts of magical warfare, but I am not one of those individuals.”

“And may I ask what your specialty is, exactly?” Captain Boris said slowly as he looked at the faces of those around him, taking in the various emotions that littered the very men he had been chosen to lead.

Some had the look of confusion on their faces as they had duped themselves into the mindset that the sorceress was capable of wiping out an entire legion of men. Others were visibly upset by the woman’s words. Most of the men waited to hear what Velicion had to say next, unsure of how they should feel about this strange revelation.

Velicion understood how these men felt, she had shown off some of the more impressive looking spells in her repertoire and in doing so led them to believe that she was someone that she was not. The reality of the situation made her regret the choices she had made at the time, but she was of the mindset that these men were nothing to her. She couldn’t care less if these men were to live or die, so long as she accomplished in what needed to be done than that was all that mattered.

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to properly explain it,” The sorceress said as she attempted to formulate how to best explain what she did. “But the easiest way to put it is that while I do know of a few spells that could be used in a fight, those are mainly for singling out single targets or used in duels. My true expertise lies in the fact that I handle the theoretical aspects of various magical systems and devices.”

Velicion went on to explain how she designed and developed magical arrays and computational engines that were primarily used in large scale area denial, cleansing of hostile magical effects, surveillance systems, far-sight devices and many more. There were countless times in her explanation where she had to re-explain what had been said, as she had gone far more in-depth than she had initially intended to.

“I see,” A befuddled Captain Boris said after a momentary pause in the sorceress’s explanation. “Thank you for your…precise explanation, but perhaps it would be best if we were to continue using what’s currently in front of us. We’ll need to get a complete picture of our enemy if we wish to come up with a plan of action.”

Velicion graciously smiled at the man as she turned her attention back towards the bird’s eye view of the enemy’s encampment. A large swathe of trees had been cleared during the time she had spent explaining her area of expertise and the sorceress knew that it wouldn’t be long before they could expect some form of an assault on their lines.

The rhythmic sounds of the marching army were strangely alluring for Dasher. The hesitant warlord stared blankly into the distant horizon as his forces continued to march under the banners of the Tall Lady. The flayed orc skin that served as the banner’s flag waved gently against the light breeze as the proud standard-bearers kept their treasures high in the air to show off the army's heraldry.

Where once Dasher held sway over a dozen newly freed prisoners, the small band had thrown themselves into a dizzying marathon of feverish glory. Now, thanks to a lack of education, the baffled goblin commanded an army of immeasurable size. This wasn’t because of his lack of trying to get a handle over the ever-increasing size of his forces, but because the highest number that anyone could count to was only fourteen.

At first, they had organized themselves into units of fourteen, but once they had reached numbers that they struggled to keep up with, then all sense of reasoning ceased, and his lieutenants had formed groups at their leisure.

Numbers weren’t the only issue that the warlord currently faced. There was a lack of adequate supplies, and many members were currently weaponless. The quality of their gear was also something to be desired, as their equipment looked to be brittle and threatened to break under their own weight. On occasion, the weapons would do just that.

A large number of those under his command claimed that such moments were when the mysterious Tall Lady had tested their mettle in battle. For those that died, it was said that the divine creature that their warlord spoke so highly of had viewed the deceased as detrimental to their cause. While those that lived would be showered in praise by their compatriots and that they would be showered in glory in the next battle.

Dasher was unsure of what to think about his army’s growing fanaticism. It had caused many of the more bloodthirsty members to become enraged during battle and slaughter everyone in their path. This had proven to be both a blessing and a curse for the goblin, but one that he was willing to live with. The only real concern that he had currently was keeping the increasingly bizarre mythology that surrounded the army’s patron into a containable one. There had been times where he had heard stories involving the Tall Lady that he had no recollection of telling, and the warlord wondered if the berserkers had spread the tales after they had come out of their battle induced highs.

“Warmaster,” Came the voice of One-Eye, his one-eyed and most trusted follower. “We’ve arrived.”

Dasher nodded his head as he grunted out a wordless reply. With a wordless gesture, the warlord raised a single hand and motioned for his army to halt. Without hesitation, voices had been raised and musical notes were trumpeted to signal that the order to stop had been given.

Within seconds the entire army had ground to a halt as the advance party moved forward to take in the full view of their destination, the camp of a nameless warlord that had claimed an interest in joining Dasher’s growing strength.

One-Eye, his ever cautious lieutenant, had claimed that it was a trap and that the army of the Tall Lady should do battle with the mysterious warlord as they had done so often over the past week.

Dasher had other plans, however. He had grown tired of the constant fighting that had plagued the weary warlord ever since he had taken the first step outside of his savior’s home, and he wished to speak to return alongside the messenger and try his best in convincing a potential ally with his words and not at the tip of a weapon.

The two had argued for hours on end, but eventually, One-Eye had worn down the warlord to the point where Dasher had begrudgingly agreed to allow his army to camp itself close to where the talks were to be located.

With a heartfelt sigh, Dasher dismounted from the back of Gore and moved to hand over his weapons to his most faithful follower.

“You sure about this boss?” One-Eye asked with concern in his voice as he reached for the offered weapons. “It could be a trap.”

The warlord thought over the one-eyed goblin's words as Gore came up from behind him and nudged for Dasher to follow the messenger who had already departed. “Yeah,” A hurried Dasher said as he turned and faced towards the ramshackle huts of a potential ally. “It’s better to give ourselves a breather every once in a while and if the worse were to happen, then I’ve got Gore with me.”

One-Eye nodded at his master’s words and pounded a closed fist against his chest. “In victory or defeat, you’ll come back alive.”

Dasher nodded his head at another of his lieutenant’s nonsensical sayings. The warlord was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with the goblin’s head. “Right.” He said as he took his first step towards the unknown camp.

One-Eye waved goodbye to the increasingly distant warlord as he thought back to the time when the two of them had argued over the decision about accepting the meeting. To goblins, it was of the belief that diplomacy was something that only tricksters and liars would use as a prelude to a more violent ordeal. The one-eyed goblin couldn’t help but laugh at what his warlord had said when confronted with that saying.

“If it comes down to it, then I’ll deal with the reality of the situation. For right now, I want to see the truth of their words.”

At first, Dasher had excused the eerie atmosphere of the camp as having been caused by the arrival of his army, but as he was led further into the depths of the strangely barren encampment, the warlord understood that something was wrong. The guards that led him towards a misshapen and hastily built hut were keeping a close watch on the defenseless warlord, and their actions spoke loudly over their distaste towards their tribe’s visitor.

It was a different matter entirely when it came to Gore that towered over the entire group. In the beginning, they had refused to allow the white warg to enter the camp, but after a heated discussion from the messenger that had brought the warlord to their very front door the guards had no choice but to allow Dasher’s monstrous companion to walk beside its master.

The path that they had taken to the wooden and stone hut was a short one, but that didn’t stop the feeling that the walk to their destination had taken an eternity. Dasher had felt the piercing gazes of countless eyes as the group walked deeper into the camp and that only served to add credence to his belief that there was something foul was afoot.

Eventually, they had come to a halt at the rickety entrance to the building that was said to house the tribe’s leadership. “Through here.” One of the guards said as he gestured for Dasher to step forward.

The warlord paid little attention to the disgruntled guard as his eyes roamed over the soot-covered and fire damaged walls. To the left and right of him were the remnants of a pair of doused braziers that Dasher suspected had been fed too much fuel and had recently threatened to turn the entirety of the hut into a blazing inferno.

There was countless evidence to further convince him of this theory. Ranging from the fire kissed wood to what he suspected were the remains of the door that had served as the timeless guardian for the tribal leader’s home.

“Go! Go in!” The guard yelled out as he poked a finger at the fire gutted doorway. “Hurry it up!”

Dasher waved him off as he stepped forward, keeping his mind clear of any doubts about what was to come.

The insides of the hut had fared no better to an unsurprised Dasher. Rays of sunlight shined down through countless holes in the roof while piles of ash had been thrown haphazardly around. It was clear to him that whoever had handled the cleanup of the aftermath of the fire had cared little for the buildings powerful resident.

He wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out that they had been punished for dereliction of their duty.

“You Dasher?” An echoing voice called out from somewhere within the muggy darkness.

The warlord struggled to locate the source of the voice, but eventually his eyes settled onto the ash-covered remains of what he suspected was once a throne.

Not far from where the seat of power once stood were two brown haired wargs and three goblins that stood next to one another. Each of the goblins held something in their hands, but Dasher failed to recognize what they were.

“I am,” The warlord said as he stepped closer towards his counterparts. “I take it that one of you is the leader of this tribe?”

The group of goblins laughed at his question as one of them stepped forward and opened his arms wide. “You could say that all of us are the leaders of this tribe.” The one that spoke allowed a wicked smile to form over an otherwise sorrow filled face.

Dasher rolled his eyes at the grinning goblins words as he gestured for Gore to keep a watchful eye on the two brown haired wargs. The creatures had begun to move from their spot and were now beginning to surround the weaponless warlord.

“I seriously doubt that.” He said bluntly while keeping a calming hand over the back of his wargs back. “What is it that you want from me? I’m beginning to doubt that the lot of you ever wanted to talk to me from the very beginning.”

“Rude-rude!” Another of the goblins cried out as the third hissed and spat at the ground.

The apparent leader of the group motioned for the other two to calm themselves as he began to address Dasher’s concerns. “Believe us or not, it doesn’t matter.” The lead goblin said as he took a step towards their worried guest. “We saw many things in the fire. Things that have led us to you. You that would allow us to feed the Hungry Fire.”

Dasher opened and closed his mouth as words failed to materialize out of his mouth. He had wanted to call them crazy, but Gore began to growl in warning at the encroaching wargs.

“Right,” The warlord said as his hand pushed down on his companions back. “Let’s get this started then, yeah?”

Gore howled and snapped his jaws as he charged towards the closer of the two brown haired wargs. The two beasts soon collided into one another and tore into their opposite, teeth and claws rendered flesh as the blood-crazed hounds battled their way around the various hazards that made up the insides of the fire gutted compound.

The last of the wargs wavered between the idea of attacking a defenseless Dasher or helping its companion, but once it had heard the familiar cry of its brother it had charged off into the darkness.

The warlord had no time to think of a strategy as the tribe’s crazed leader made a desperate leap towards Dasher. Thankfully the warlord was quick on his feet and threw himself down onto the ground and kicked up at his soaring opponent.

His feet slammed into the fire obsessed goblin and sent the creature flying into the air, but not before Dasher had the chance to reach out and grab hold of the soot-covered sword that hung limply at the crazed goblins waist.

“Masher! Slasher!” The winded goblin said as he looked between his two dumbfounded allies. “Kill him!”

The two goblins responded to their leader's command by launching themselves forward and charging straight for the defiant warlord. One of the oncoming goblins held a wooden stick that looked to have dulled itself in the fire while his counterpart held a thick and brittle club.

Feeling as if he had no other option but to meet his opponents head-on, Dasher lunged himself forward and dropped down onto his knees; sliding towards the two approaching goblins as he kept his stolen sword tilted at an angle that would help him deflect any incoming attacks.

Slasher, or at least that was who Dasher believed him to be, took the opportunity to jump into the air and slam his spear down towards the still sliding warlord. Dasher was quick to react however as the warlord rolled his entire body away from the oncoming blow and slashed his sword upwards into the air, slashing at his baffled opponent's stomach while and slicing open a wide and brutal wound in the awestruck goblins belly.

Slasher yelled at the top of his lungs as he fell to the ground, his hands failing to keep his guts from pouring out of the wound and onto the blood-covered ground below.

Masher hadn’t been idle throughout the brutal ordeal and moved to intercept his opponent as the warlord came out of his roll.

Dasher raised his blood-covered arm to block the oncoming attack and took the full force of the blow with a teeth-clenching cry of pain. The warlord jumped back to avoid another swing of the club and kicked at the shins of the cackling goblin.

The club-wielding goblin yelped and stumbled to the ground, but he was barely able to catch himself before falling face-first into the ash-covered dirt.

Dasher gave the wounded goblin no chances and stabbed his sword straight down into the neck of the recovering creature.

Blood oozed down the length of the sword as the warlord planted kicked at the corpse before pulling the bloodied weapon out of his now-dead adversary.

With a heavy breath, Dasher whirled around to meet with an oncoming enemy that never materialized. The sounds of a still sobbing Slasher filled the room as a victorious Gore howled in defiance at the mangled mass of flesh that littered the floor around him.

Dasher waited for an attack that would never come, and as Gore turned his attention towards the last of their opponents, the warlord softened his stance and allowed himself a moment of peace. With one final cautious glance, the victorious warlord dropped his weapon and turned his attention to a blood-stained Gore as it tore into the neck of the now-dead Slasher.

As the two of them began to make their way out of the ruined hut, Dasher wondered if he would ever see the fire obsessed lunatic a second time and if he did what that would entail.