Y1105: Novaro (annotated summary)

MagnificentFly's House Novaro

"On my journey to the outer isles for Lord Alberon, a sudden and ferocious storm wrecked my ship. I and a small contingent of the crew struggled to the shore of an uncharted island. Now, I need to construct a ship large enough to make the voyage back home to the mainland."

— Gallavant

You received a message from the Lord Gallavant to prepare for his expedition to rout out the pirates raiding Lord's Alberon domains. Griffon's Peak is a strategic location and your experience with sailing the dangerous waters of the outer isles is crucial to this task.

However, the fleet you sent to escort Lord Gallavant safely to the outer isles was caught in a sudden storm.

Rodrick sat on his throne in the grand hall, leaning on one hand, bored, as he was listening the reports of his advisors. This year's crop harvest was much lower than previous years, food shortages might be a concern; fishermen report of increased sightings of carnivorous sea creatures; griffons getting restless, a mysterious fog appeared in the middle of the sea ... Suddenly, a young man burst inside the hall and ran up to the throne. He sat on his knee and after a moment to catch his breath announced, "The Dauntless has returned, my Lord, but ... only Dauntless, and it is in a bad shape."
Rodrick stood up at hearing the news, "What?! Did Lord Gallavant make it safely? What happened?" he turned to one of his guards, "Get the Captain here, now!". The guard nodded and rushed outside. "This meeting is adjourned, we will continue later, " Rodrick said to his advisors and sat back on the throne, he looked at the messenger, "Summon Bartholomew and then have some wine." The messenger stood up, "Thank you, my Lord," and left the hall.

Bartholomew sat on his knees in front of the shrine, it was time for his daily prayers. He heard footsteps approaching and stopping a few meters away from him. "My Lord-" the voice started talking but was cut off as Bartholomew raised his hand. A few moments later, he stood up and turned his attention to the messenger, "You have interrupted my prayer, it is better be important." Young messenger looked up at the now standing paladin, a large and powerfully built man, who was displeased and waiting for an answer. It took his a moment to gather enough courage to speak again, "M-My Lord, you are being s-summoned to the Great Hall. Lord Novaro wishes to speak with you, the Dauntless has returned alone, my Lord." Bartholomew frowned and without saying anything walked out.

The Captain of the Dauntless was brought into the Great Hall in front of Rodrick and Bartholomew. He knelt in front of the lords, "My Lords, I am afraid I have bad news." Bartholomew took a step closer and looked the Captain in the eyes, "You had three ships, you've returned with one. Where is Lord Gallavant? What happened to Gareth?" The Captain looked down on the floor, "We have picked up Lord Gallavant and were on our way back here. We've heard reports about strange fog in the South-West, we thought of going through the Brigand's Shores but didn't want to risk an encounter with pirates, so we decided to go on the edge of the fog ... but as soon as we entered it, the winds got stronger, waves - larger, we found ourselves in the nastiest storms I've ever seen. Our ships got separated from each other, it seems only the Dauntless made it back though."
Bartholomew formed a fist, he looked like he was going to strike the Captain but he restrained himself, "You should've gone through the Shores! The pirates would not dare attacking Gareth's ship!"
"That's enough!" Rodrick stopped Bartholomew's barrage of insults towards the Captain, "We will deal with the Captain later, for now, we need to find Lord Gallavant and Gareth." He turned to his guards, "Send out the Griffon Riders, let them scout around this fog," then he turned to Bartholomew, "I will leave the search to you, find them and bring them here."
"Yes, father," Bartholomew placed one hand on his chest a lowered his head, "I will depart at once."

Margaret was sitting on the edge of the cliff overlooking the port. She saw Dauntless entering the port, front mast was broken and there were fewer people handling the sails than it should be. Something had happened. She got up on her feet and ran back to the town. When she reached the port, she saw Bartholomew ordering people around, preparing his ship, the Divine. "Going somewhere?" she asked him from behind. "Yes, Gareth and Lord Gallavant were lost in the storm, I am to find them and bring them here," he answered without turning back. "I'm coming with then," she said stepping in front of her twin brother. Bartholomew sighed, "As you wish, we leave in 30 minutes, be here or you'll be left behind."

---

The storm was raging on. Gareth, the youngest of Rodrick's children, was at the helm, steering the ship away from large waves. Half of his crew was swept overboard, the main mast cracked but was still standing but not for long. Lord Gallavant was on a deck below, helping a sailor to fix a leak. A bright white light flashed for a second, followed by a booming noise, cracking sound of broken wood and a heavy thud. The lightning hit the ship, main mast was broken, fire started to spread. Lord Gallavant rushed to the helm to check on Gareth when the stairs under his feet pushed up with another thundering noise, but this one came from inside of the ship. The fire reached the gunpowder...

The Griffin riders return with no news of Gallavant or Gareth, but other ships have been spotted close to the strange mist. It looks like the captain was not the only one sailing that way. In fact, the riders thought the others were sailing into the mist. Rodrick, with his years of experience ruling over the seas has the feeling that something is not quite right as he hears the reports. Could those " Children of the sea" be somehow involved in this? They have kept mostly for themselves after their Mother fought off the pirates with the Empire’s and, to be fair, the Novaro’s help.

Gallavant and Gareth land on a small island. They and some of their men manage to recover a few supplies and weapons. As they search for other survivors nearby, they notice a number of humanoids watching them from afar. This continues for awhile, each group measuring each other, trying to figure out what are the other’s intentions. This is, until one of the trained scouts from Gareth returns. He counted about dozen curiously looking trolls, lead by a cyclops…

Gareth regained his consciousness with heavy, thumping and rhythmic pounding in his ears accompanied by a faint ringing. When he opened his eyes he realized that he was not on the ship anymore but in a tent. His clothes were tattered and burned in places. His right arm was bandaged and he could feel the burning sensation on his skin. He stumbled outside of the tent, still hazy, and looked around.

He was on the beach, in a small encampment. A few soldiers of his House were patrolling the perimeter. At the center of the camp Gareth saw Lord Gallavant standing near the campfire and talking to an officer. Lord Gallavant's clothes were also tattered but to a lesser extent. There weren't many other people around.

Gareth approached Lord Gallavant, "My Lord, I am glad to see you alive and well," he said barely catching himself from falling, "Where are we?" Gallavant dismissed the officer and turned to Gareth, "Ah, young Gareth, you are awake, good, sit down and rest," he gestured at a wooden boxes laying on the sand next to the fire, "I was kind of hoping you would tell me where we are, these are your waters after all." Lord Gallavant sat on one of the boxes, Gareth followed suit.
"Well, we were going around the Brigand's Shores and then we were hit by that freakish storm..." Gareth took a small wooden plank and started to draw an estimate map on the sand and then he paused, "How long was I out? And how exactly did we crush, I am afraid I am unable to recollect what happened?" he asked with a look of confusion.
"Lighting hit our ship and we exploded," Lord Gallavant replied, "We were washed ashore at least five hours ago."
Gareth looked at his drawing of the map, thinking. He draw a few lines indicating possible directions they might have been drifted to, "Hm... That doesn't seem right. Given our last known location there is no land we could possibly be drifted to in five hours, we should be in the middle of the sea ... perhaps, we are on of the Keiki's islands? Kohola'uhane might be able to help us, we should scout our surroundings..."
Lord Gallavant raised his hand, "I don't know who are these Keiki that you spoke of but I set up a defensive perimeter just in case. I sent out a scouting party to learn more, they should be coming back soon"

Lord Gallavant then proceeded to inform Gareth about the number of the survivors, recovered supplies and what steps had already been taken to get them out of this predicament. There weren't as many survivors as Gareth had hoped: only a handful of soldiers, a few sailors who were now searching the beach for anything useful that was washed ashore, and a cook. They did, however, recover a few crates with medicine and enough food to last a couple of days.

After a few hours, the scouting party had returned. "My Lords," lead scout approached the lords, "We have found out who the natives are and where are they coming from. There is a settlement of greenskins further inland. They do not appear to be openly hostile but about twenty of them are headed our way."
Lord Gallavant immediately stood up, "We must prepare for an incoming attack! How long till they reach here?"
"Couple of hours," scout replied.
"Rally the men, we have a battle ahead of us," Lord Gallavant ordered and then turned to Gareth, "Are able to fight?"
"Doesn't matter," Gareth said struggling to stand up but still managing it, "I always fight beside my men."

In the course of the next few hours, everyone in the camp was mobilized and ready for battle. Makeshift walls were erected around the camp with a single gap for entrance. Soldier and sailors alike were getting into a formation as lookouts signaled the approaching group of trolls with a much larger cyclops at the lead. Soldiers formed a shield wall at the front of the formation. Sailors were given long pikes and were positioned behind the soldiers. Gareth stood with them wearing his cuirass and leaning on a stick. The few skilled in archery were stationed a bit to the side and at a distance from the main formation, Lord Gallavant with his arbalest was among them.

The troll "war party" were carrying clubs but didn't show any hostility as they approached the camp. Once they stepped inside the walls they saw another much smaller wall with long sharp sticks pointing towards them. Behind this "wall" there were black and metal little men. Cyclops shouted something to his troops and the trolls made a formation of their own, with the cyclops in the middle. The one eyed giant raised his club and shouted what seemed to be a word but in an unknown yet somewhat familiar language and the trolls shouted in unison what seemed to be an answer. They repeated this act a few more times, then the Cyclops started pacing among the trolls, shouting something. The trolls were answering but now they also accompanied their shouts with stomps and slaps on their chest. It looked like a dance a little and they were surprisingly synchronized. They ended their act with a roar towards the defenders and then ... nothing, they stood in their place looking at the soldiers intently. After a quiet and a bit awkward minute, the shield wall parted and a small half-metal human with yellow fur stepped in front, leaning on the stick.

Gareth stepped forward, drew out his cutlass and raised it above his head. "Men!" he shouted, "They are trying to intimidate us! They seemed to be well organized but let's show them what true discipline looks like!" The soldiers clashed their weapons against their shields as one. "They are big and strong but this doesn't scare us!" Gareth continued shouting with soldiers striking their swords on their shields and stomping on the ground at the end of his proclamations. And with each clash they would make one step forward. The trolls stood firm at the beginning but as the "wall" was getting closer they were starting to back away a bit, except for Cyclops, the one-eyed giant stood in place and stared at Gareth. Young lord stared back with defiant and determined look.

After a few moments, Cyclops looked away, took a few steps back and then sat on the ground. Gareth ordered his men to stop moving forward and approached the Cyclops.
"Hooman will is strong," Cyclops said to Gareth, "No need war."
"I agree, there is no need for bloodshed," Gareth replied, "We have been caught in the storm and were washed ashore here. Can you tell me where are we?"
Cyclops looked with a bit of confusion on his face, clearly his knowledge of Imperial language was too limited.
"We are lost," Gareth said, "We come from beyond the big water." He used his hand gestures to help with explanation.
"Silly hooman, big water swallow everyone," Cyclops chuckled and pointed his meaty finger at sea, "Only cloud and fire above water."
"Then how do you speak our language?" Gareth asked, "Surely, you've met others of my kind."
"Other lands there," Cyclops pointed North, "We trade."
"So, Keiki are up North?"
"What Keiki?"
"Other humans that live on the islands... other lands."
Cyclops shook his head, "Hoomans not many. And smaller. Want pakiaka, have shiny stones. We trade."

Gareth asked more and more questions trying to narrow down exactly which island they were on. He learned that the Red Eye tribe was controlling this island and there were more islands to the North. They trade roots of certain plants to inhabitants of the northern islands for stones with magical properties. They more they spoke the more Gareth was convinced that they were not on any of the known islands. He remembered the tales of mystical Shrouded Isles and that every wizard wanted to go there, perhaps, the legends were true.

The Cyclops, Morg, invited Gareth and his men to his settlement and provided them with food and lodgings, as well as ordered a few trolls to help humans find their way home.

Gallavant, Gareth and a few men find themselves on a strange island. After establishing a small encampment they start patrolling the perimeter to figure out their location, rescue other survivors and recover any supplies they landed win the area. Despite trying to estimate their location, Gareth can't figure out where they may be. All estimates point to the endless sea. It would seem these islands may be uncharted.

In no time, scouts return with knews of a village of greenskins and a group of trolls lead by a much larger cyclops coming their way. Gareth, experienced with different races and tribes from his travels, manages to gain the cyclops' respect learning that the Red Eye tribe trades with humans to the north.

Having a place to rest, Gareth and Gallavant start preparing to leave the small island, which the locals unimaginatively call the Sandy Isle. Morg, the cyclops leader of the Red Eye tribe, is welcoming and ready to offer some men and small canoes. These are not seaworthy, but will take them across the short water channel separating them from the closest island... where they hope to find the humans Morg spoke of... As Gareth can tell, these can only be the Kohola'uhane, from whom they can get help. Unless... for some reason the tales of mystical Shrouded Isles come to Gareth's mind. In such case, they have no idea what to expect...

The Divine was a frigate of the Novaro Navy and assigned to Bartholomew. It had seen a lot of action over the years, pirate raids used to be frequent back in the day. These days, however, the mere sight of Novaro's banner would turn the pirates away, Rodrick made sure of that.

Bartholomew was in his cabin hovering over the maps, trying to figure out where Gareth would've ended up. His younger brother spent more time at sea than at home, no way he would've perished in the storm, he would've figure something out. Bartholomew left the cabin, slamming the door shut out of frustration. He went onto the top deck for morning prayer. His paladins knelt around him as he started reading the scripture.

Margaret stood on the forecastle of the "Divine", enjoying a gentle breathe and warm sun. It has been a day since they left the port, the weather was great and if not for Bartholomew's sour mood and the fact that her little brother was missing, the whole voyage would be rather enjoyable and pleasant. Alas, Bartholomew was tense and focused, he would not be distracted until his mission was complete and who knew how Gareth was doing or whether he was still alive even.

---

The sound of wind and rain hitting the floor swallowed all of the other noises and shouts. Soaked clothes, strong side wind and slippery floor were the least of Gareth's concerns. He put all of his weight on the steering wheel trying to get the ship back into his control and threw occasional glance at the main mast, it started to crack. A giant wave hit the ship, the ship rocked hard. Fewer sailors left on board. Then there was a flash of bright light ...

Gareth woke up in cold sweat and breathed heavily. He left the cottage Morg provided to spend the night, shielding his eyes from a bright morning light. Two trolls stood on each side of the entrance. They nodded to Gareth as he appeared, these two, and a few others, were tasked with ensuring Gareth's and his men safe travel through the islands. Gareth was directed to the longhouse to have a breakfast with the chief.

Inside the longhouse, Morg sat on a large throne or rather a tree with a seat carved into it to accommodate the size of the Cyclops. In front of him was a large table filled with various foods, though, mainly it was dried fruit and various roots. The meat was on the table but was rather scarce. Not much game on the Sandy Isle but a lot of rare plants. Lord Gallavant was beside the Red Eye chief, while still weary of these new allies, he knew that they need all the help they can get.

Gareth and Lord Gallavant were making final preparation for their departure when Morg approached them, "Land over small water," he pointed to the western island clearly visible from the beach, "Blood Axe tribe land. Big wolves, hard to train. Hoomans no trade."
"Thank you, my friend," Gareth said to Morg with a slight nod, "You've been a great help."
The red eye cyclops nodded in return and went back to his settlement.

Gareth and his men spent a few hours rowing across the channel on a big and rather clumsy canoe like boat that was provided by Morg. Once on land they immediately established defensive perimeter as they were unloading the boat. Gareth, still limping and leaning on the stick, walked around the perimeter, taking in his surroundings. He stopped near one of the soldiers who was looking into the bushes and thick jungle trees.
"What is it, soldier?" Gareth asked.
"I think I heard something, sir," swordsman answered.

Gareth looked into the jungle and then suddenly shouted to the soldier drawing his weapon, "Get down!"
The swordsman dropped on the ground without a second thought as a dark large shadow flew over him. He quickly got back on his feet and rushed towards Gareth. Another shadow landed on the spot where he was in and then disappeared in the foliage.

Gareth blew into his whistle, calling his men to arms and started to back away from the thickness greenwood in front of him. The soldier drew his sword and positioned himself in front of Gareth. As they were backing away, they saw three large dark figures with red eyes looking at them. They heard growling as the three creatures slowly stepped out of the woods.

Thick black fur, bloodshot red eyes, row of big canine teeth. These creatures resembled wolves but were much larger, almost the size of a horse.

Hearing the sound of a whistle, the rest of the Gareth's men dropped everything they were doing and rushed towards the source of the sound.

One of the 'wolves' lunged at the soldier but the man sidestepped it and stabbed it between its ribs with his sword. The wolf produced a high pitch whine mixed with angry growl as it pounced away from it. Another wolf lunged at the now distracted soldier from the back, knocking him on the ground and tried to bite him at his neck. The soldier grabbed the wolf on top of him by its fur and was pulling its massive jaws away from him.

As Gareth moved to help the man, the third wolf stepped in front of him. The injured wolf moved to the left, flanking Gareth, and then lunged at him... The wolf slumped on the ground near Gareth with a bolt sticking out from its skull. Lord Gallavant reloaded his arbalest and moved in closer. Gareth nodded to Lord Gallavant and returned his attention to the third wolf just in time to a giant beast landing on top of him...

The soldier who was struggling with the first wolf felt a sharp pain at his side as the wolf clawed at him. He pushed the wolf's head further away from him in a desperate attempt to get it off of him. Suddenly a steel bolt was now sticking out of the creature's eye as it slumped over him. He pulled himself from under it and got on his legs. He saw Lord Gallavant putting another bolt into his arbalest and then turned to where he saw Gareth last, only to see a large black wolf. However, it was not moving, at least for a few more moments when it jerked a bit and slumped over to its side. Gareth had his sword hand in the wolf's jaw and he was trying to pull it out.

Lord Gallavant rushed in and started helping Gareth pull his hand out. Gareth was still holding his cutlass when Gallavant and the soldier managed to open the beast's jaws. He had to let go of his weapon as he didn't have enough strength to pull it out of the wolf's skull and then quickly realized that he could not move his right hand as much. His shoulder was dislocated from the impact with a large and heavy beast.

As the rest of the soldiers arrived to the scene, they created a circle around the lords ready for any other hostiles. One of the sailors helped Gareth to put his shoulder back in place. Then a they all heard a sound of a horn...

The winds started picking up as the Divine entered the misty shroud. Margaret heard of the mysterious mist appearing in a middle of the sea, Bartholomew told her what captain of the Dauntless reported. She tucked her hair under the hood and was ready to go to a lower deck when she spotted something - a silhouette of a ship.

A dark shape of a large ship, larger than a frigate, moved along the Divine in the distance. Then it disappeared in the mists. Margaret stopped a sailor that was passing her by and pointed at where she saw it, "Look there! I thought I saw a ship there!" Sailor grimaced, displeased with being distracted from his work, but looked at the direction she was pointing.

After a few moments, he shrugged his shoulders, "I don't see nothin', ma'm, must'a been trick of the -" his eye grew wide, he made a few steps back and raised a shaking hand pointing at what he saw, "Tis a g-g-ghost ship! We are doomed!"

The mysterious ship appeared much closer now. Margaret could make out more details: rotting woodwork, tattered sails, shimmering visage and no crew.

Margaret grabbed the sailor by his shoulders, "Snap out of it! You are serving on the Divine, act like it! Go get my brother!" she pushed him away.

The Divine became very lively, sailors running to their stations, archers got to their positions. Bartholomew walked with a confident and determined step onto the upper deck. His paladins followed him. They seemed unconcerned by all the running and panicked shouting around them. Bartholomew looked at the shimmering dark shape and his brows furrowed. He raised his hammer, "By the holy scripture and our vows, we shall not let this abomination exist in this world! It must be purged from the eyes of the Lord!" Paladins drew their weapons and knelt, starting to read a prayer. Bartholomew's hammer started to glow with warm yellow light. The light grew more intense and spread far beyond the Divine and almost reached the ghost ship when the dark and rotting ship disappeared. Bartholomew grunted, or rather growled, and started frantically looking around, searching for the ship, "We shall not let it escape! Find it!" he shouted.

With each passing moment the light was getting brighter. One of the paladins collapsed from the exhaustion of the prolonged ritual. "Look! Over there!" one of the sailors shouted pointing at a small shape of what could be a ship in the distance. "Good man!" Bartholomew said to the sailor and shouted, "Give chase! Prepare the ballistae!"

For the next few hours, the Divine was giving chase to the ghost ship. It was getting closer and closer. Three more paladins passed out by now but Bartholomew still held his hammer high, and the light was still as bright as it was hours ago. Ballistae was assembled on the forecastle. As the ghost ship was getting in range, Bartholomew put his hand on the large metal bolt, muttered a short prayer, and the bolt started to glow as well, though not as intensely as the light from the hammer.

Lilinoe and had just managed to survive a sudden attack by one of the most dreadful sea beats, the Kraken. Though most sailors were facing to the skies and to the sea to give thanks to any gods or spirits that would listen for having the creature turn back into the depth, Linione felt an intention. She could not be sure what it was, but that beast was after something. It wasn't the gods that saved them, they were just not what it wanted...

But little time did she have to think about it as Aeron Greyjell shouts "Someone is coming for us!". She turns to see a mighty ship sailing their way and... bearing the flag of Novaro! "What are they doing here?" she asks herself as her vessel is shaken by a glowing metal bolt which barely missed them.

On the other ship, the holy light of the paladins shone through the ghostly mist that suddenly covered the waters. Their prayers grew louder as the grappling hooks it the empty ship. "Thanks the gods you found us!" Aeron shouts as he orders all sailors to stay put. They had lost most of their unliving crew, tand there was no way the living could maneuver such a large ship on their own.

Bartholomew observed the reaction of the Linione's ship crew and made sure that they were in the holy light. As the smaller ship was being pulled closer, Bartholomew nodded to his paladins and they stopped their prayer with exhale of relief. The light started to fade away.

Wooden planks were placed between two ships creating small bridges. Bartholmew and four still standing paladins were the first ones to cross. A tall man with blonde hair and a stubble, powerfully built and clad in almost glowing pristine heavy plate armor with a griffon adorned on the chest, Bartholomew, walked with a heavy step and stern look. "Who is the Captain of this vessel?", he asked loudly with commanding tone.

Bartholomew looked Linione over head to toe, "Bartholomew Novaro," he nodded, "Pleasure to meet you, Lady Kohola'uhane." He glanced at Greyjell and cocked his head a little bit before returning his attention to Linione, "You are welcome aboard the Divine," he extended his hand inviting young lady over to his ship, "You can tell me all about your goal here and what happened to your ship in my quarters."

Margaret was leaning on the railing, observing the remainders of Linione's crew. A wide smile formed on her freckled face as she noticed Linione. After hearing the introduction, Margaret crossed over to the ship with much elegance, especially comparing to her brother. She put a stray strand of her red hair back under the hood, adjusted the straps of her leather armor and straightened up, "Please forgive my brother, he is a creature of focus. We've heard a lot about the Children of the Sea, our brother, Gareth, spoke very highly of your people," she said with a warm smile and a slight nod, "Oh, forgive my manners, I spent too much time at sea surrounded by brutes. My name is Margaret Novaro, please - " she stopped talking as her foot stepped into the smeared goo of unknown origin, "Oh my, what is that?"

Even though he was saved by Lord Gallavant's true aim, Gareth has little time to celebrate. The loud sound of the horn is followed by an uncomfortable silence as everyone realizes that those three massive black wolves were not of the wild type, but probably, hunting beasts... Morg's words come to Gareth's mind "Blood Axe tribe trains big wolves. With humans, no trade." Only now that sounds like a real warning, the sort of warning that lets you know whoever is coming for you, dislikes humans... very much.

They barely had time to settle in the new island. With their primitive canoes unable to carry much, they don't have the resources to survive a long hunt!

As the horn subsided, an orc hunting party came out of the jungle surrounding the small landing party. Gareth and Gallavant were severely outnumbered and exhausted to battle, though they were prepared to fight till last breath. A rather large orc with a wolf skin on his head stepped in front, looking over his prey with a cruel smile. He produced some guttural sounds that was most likely words and then paused looking at the Red Eye tribe trolls with a surprise on his face. He said something to them with a chuckle. The trolls straightened up and stepped forward. The larger one made similar guttural sounds but more refined and sounding more like an actual speech. The orc replied and his followers started cheering. The trolls smashed their clubs on the ground in front of them and roared loud enough to drown out the orc cheers.

The humans were very confused at what was happening but when the trolls started to roar they tensed up and put their mean faces on, prepared to fight.

The leading orc calmed his brethren and looked over the humans now with a more serious look. He glanced at the dead wolves with a nod and grunted something to the trolls. The larger troll approached Gareth, "Blood Axe hunter. Speak you." Gareth nodded in a agreement, sighed and limped forward, trying not to wince at every step.

"Hooman!" the orc exclaimed pointing his big chunk of metal that looked like an oversized cleaver at Gareth, "I kill you hooman. But Red Eye-" he pointed at the trolls, "Friend. I speak you now, kill later. Why you here?"
Gareth rotated his right hand, making sure he still can use it. It was painful but he tried to hide it the best he could. "We are going North, to other humans, we have no intentions of staying here."
"I kill hoomans North, they make wall," the orc pointed his cleaver in the northern direction, "I kill you go through the wall."
"How killing me helps you go through the wall?"
"I put your skin and go through the wall."
"You know humans will know that you are not human, right?"
"Wall magic no human. Kill you, hooman skin make me hooman for the wall."
"Magic wall? Perhaps we can find another way for you to cross it, who raised it?"
"Gwydion and his pups,[/b]" the orc spat on the ground.
"[b]Tell me more about this Gwydion, is he one of the Keiki?"
"Gwydion is hooman warlock. Grityz follow him," orc spat once again.
Gareth watched the Orc with a bit of amusement.
"Who is Grityz?" he asked.
"Dogface shaman. Take our mine. Make wall."
"So, if we kill Grityz the wall will be no more?"
"Yes. But you hoomans weak. I kill you take skin and go through wall."
"Weak?" Gareth walked over to the wolf he killed and put his hand inside its mouth. He grabbed his cutlass and had to wiggle it a bit to get it out. He returned to the orc and pointed at his with his bloody cutlass, "I kill you now and see who is the weak one."
The orc was surprised by the sudden aggression from a small human, he looked at the other humans and noticed that they were ready for battle, they didn't seem to be scared even while being outnumbered. He then looked at the dead wolves, then to the trolls and sighed.
"Red Eye - friend, we no fight. You kill Grityz and go. I see you again, I kill you."
"I can accept that," Gareth said lowering his cutlass.
"One more thing," the orc said with a grin, "You kill my wolves. I kill your men. Blood for blood. Blood Axe way."
"I kill Grityz, that is the blood I pay," Gareth said raising his cutlass again, "Or I kill you."
"You kill Grityz in two moons or I take your skin." The Orc replied with a grin before disappearing in the jungles with the rest of his party.

Gareth and his companions spent good portion of the day traversing the island until they finally found the mine Orc spoke about. The sun was setting down, the crew was hiding in the bushes and behind the trees on the edge of the forest, watching the mine. There was a palisade around the entrance and a wooden watchtower overlooking the clearing in front of the gates. When the Orc called Grityz a dogface it was not an insult as Gareth originally thought, it was a fairly accurate description. The mine was occupied by creatures that looked like bipedal canines, gnolls.

There was one on the tower, armed with a short bow, a couple of creatures stood by the gates with spears, and while Gareth couldn't see behind the gates, he could estimate that there are at least a dozen more inside based on the barking, whining and other noises coming from there. Frontal assault did not seem to be a viable option, they were enough men to do that. Another option was to sneak inside but it was safe to assume that gnolls share more than just looks with the dogs and might have a keen sense of smell.

"Perhaps if shoot fire arrows over the wall we can set their structures on fire and then assault them?" Gareth was going through ideas in front of a drawn battle map on the dirt. "Mines don't typically have a lot of structures, my lord," one of the officers replied, "It may not create enough confusion to be of benefit for us." Lord Gallavant stroke his growing and unkept beard, "What if we infiltrate the camp?"
"They will probably smell us out before we will be able to do anything," the officer said, "Lord Gareth already entertained this idea, my lord."
"No, no. You don't understand," Gallavant said, "They work for a human warlock, right? What if we simply approach the camp and have a conversation? We are humans like their master after all."
"That's actually a good idea," Gareth said enthusiastically, "We leave some of the troops here as a backup and I and Lord Gallavant with personal guard will go in under the pretense of working with their master, Gwydion. We gain an audience with the shaman, kill him and send the signal for outside forces to attack."
"Hm, this might work, provided they don't kill you on site," the officer said.
"Well, that's the best plan we got," Gareth answered, "Prepare the men."

The sun had set. Gareth separated his men into two teams: infiltration and assault. Infiltration team consisted of him, Gallavant and a handful of swordsmen. Archers, sailors and the trolls were designated to an assault team. After wishing each other luck they commenced their plan. The infiltration team walked out on the clearing, Gareth in front and Lord Gallavant at the rear.

As soon the watchdog on the tower noticed them it started howling. The two guards by the gates readied their weapons and joined in with the howl. All other noises that were coming from behind the wall immediately stopped. Three more gnolls stepped out through the small door in the gate. One of them had a neckless made of ears of various creatures and a few skulls hanging on the belt and staff. Its eyes were completely white and fur was grey. The older gnoll sniffed the air and then looked straight at the Infiltration team.

"Grrr, humans, not supposed to be humans herrrre," the gnoll growled, "Turn back orr die!"
"Is that how you great your allies?" Gareth asked the gnoll, "We were on our way to meet Gwydion but our ship crushed on this side of the island."
The old gnoll snarled and thought for a few moments before giving his response, "[b]Masterrr has no allies, only serrrvants.[/b]"
"I never said that I was an ally of Master Gwydion, I said that I was your ally. You are Grityz, correct?" Gareth said.
The gnoll sniffed the air again and sneered. A few more armed gnolls went outside of the encampment. There were now more gnolls than there were men in the Infiltration team.
"I am Grityz the Stormcaller, yes," the old blind gnoll said stepping forward, "And I can smell your lies."

Grityz raised his staff and storm clouds formed above the area. Lightning struck his staff but no harm was done to the old gnoll. The lightning arced from the staff to his clawed palm as he was pointing it at the humans. Gareth knew what was coming, there would be a flash of light as the lightning would have strike them. This was the end... Bright light flashed followed by the thunderous clap...
Several gnolls laid dead on the ground, including the old gnoll Grityz, who had a steel bolt from Gallavant's arbalest sticking out from its eye.

Rumbling noise was coming from the storm clouds. The summoned lightning storm was unleashed without control. Lightings struck around the area, one hit the tower, blowing the top to bits, several others were striking now panicking gnolls. The archers from the assault team started shooting at the gnolls that tried to escape into the jungle. Gareth and his men dropped on the ground, keeping themselves low, and started crawling away from ravaging spell.

The storm went on for a good part of an hour before it subsided. Gareth and his troop waited for a few minutes before venturing forth into the mine. There were still a few gnoll survivors but there were easily killed by unharmed soldiers. "Lord Gallavant, this victory is yours and yours alone," Gareth said as he and Gallavant approached the charred body of the old gnoll, "You just singlehandedly slayed over a dozen gnolls." He brandished his cutlass and chopped Grityz's head with one swift move. "I will say it was my plan all along even though I just got lucky," Lord Gallavant said with a smile.