Mini update of mininess
The dwarves ventured out, waving their makeshift flag. Kogan had attempted to write ‘death to Olon!’ on it but Workerdrone got there first. Barbarossa had to threaten to shoot them both if they didn’t stop bickering. They had made a new flag.
Leaving the camp, they noticed that the defending army was wandering the battlefield listlessly, as most victorious armies are wont to do after a major battle. Hopefully this would work in their favour.
“Halt!” came the call, as a man bearing the rank of lieutenant on his lapel marched up to them. “Who are you?”
“We are Eli Eremo, a recently formed mercenary band. We came seeking employment, but the commander of that pack of bastards tried to have us killed,” explained Barbarossa.
“Oh? That doesn’t surprise me,” said the lieutenant. “Radhmund Bladesevered is the biggest anti-dwarf bastard there is…”
“Aye, I worked out who he was too late,” said Bjorn. “I hate that bastard.”
“Are you, then, the dwarves who caused over forty men to break off from the battle to kill you? And would that then mean that a company as small as yourself managed to kill over 40 highly trained mercenaries?”
“Ha!” said Workerdrone. “‘Highly trained.’ I could take them all at the same time, easy. Those fools had no idea how to deal with me.”
Behind him, Kogan sniggered.
“Regardless, that is an impressive feat,” said the Lieutenant. “Would you be interested in employment in Brask’s Bloody Wolves? We could use people like you.”
“No, but thank you. We have our own company. We merely wish access to the city,” said Kogan.
“Go right ahead,” said the Lieutenant. “Here, I’ll write you a formal notice.”
He scribbled something on a piece of paper, quickly, with a pencil that he had in his pocket.”
“Thank you,” said Kogan, taking it. They moved on. Barbarossa checked the notice.
'Lt des guyz in oky?' it read.
“Most people don’t know how to write,” commented Bjorn. “That’s actually pretty good by most standards.”
“Oh?” said Barbarossa, pocketing the notice. “The standards of bloodthirsty company commanders, yes?”
“Yes,” admitted Bjorn.
“Hey…” said Forrest.
“Yes?” asked Barbarossa.
“He said he was in command of the third army. Where’s the first and second army? And who’s orchestrating this?”
“Yes, this was a major battle. It’s rare for more than six thousand troops altogether to be involved in any battle, and this was a major land grab. Something big is going on, something very, very big.”
“One thing at a time,” said Barbarossa. “We enter the city, we get supplies, we rest up, we check for jobs, make money and then we worry about the possible massive war that’s could erupt extremely quickly.”
They trudged on in silence.
“Hey, Oldbeard?” asked Vilien.
“What?” said Oldbeard.
“I was just thinking” he said.
“What?” interrupted Oldbeard.
“Oh. I WAS JUST”
“Gods lad, keep your voice down!” said Oldbeard.
“But I thought you were deaf! Aren’t you deaf?” said Vilien.
“What?” asked Oldbeard.
“Ugh. Listen, do you know any old insults? Something really powerful. I heard that hundreds of years ago, there were vulgarities that could affect the actual world!” said Vilien eagerly.
“Well… Oh, I know a good one. The midden is to the cart as a rat is to clams!” Oldbeard collapsed chuckling.
“How is that an insult, exactly?” asked Vilien.
“Well, I haven’t finished. It’s, the midden is to the cart as a rat is to clams,” Oldbeard paused to chuckle. “Also, your mother was a whore! Then you stab them. Good, eh?” Oldbeard was shaking with laughter.
“Uh, what’s that beginning part for? The cart and the rat and all that?”
“What?” said Oldbeard, straightening up. “I don’t know, never made sense to me. They had some bloody strange sayings back in the good old days.”
Vilien shook his head. Well, if he ever had to make the enemy laugh themselves to death…
Poll
Author
Topic: To venture north, into Hell: Othtar Noloc, world at war (Read 106716 times)