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[Adin Blackwind]

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Kotare got on his mount and took his usual morning ride around the country side. It had offered him peace of mind. The ongoings of events taking place around Yew seemed to have deminished some. the threat of one so called Thrax seems to have tired of his plot.

During Kotare's ride, it wasn't uncommon for him to ride through the city center. It was there he noticed something that shocked him. An orc had a crude looking knife holding it up to the throat of one of the towns people as they were handing over a purse of coins. The Orcs endevor was interupted by a sharp pain in his thigh. Kotare was just recovering from a Magic Arrow he had just cast in the orcs direction. The orc droped the purse and started to run. Though he favored his lame leg, he was still able to move quickly.

As Kotare sent his steed into a gallop, he gave chase to the lone orc with every intention of killing the beast. he readied his fireball spell and launched it at the out paced orc. Who was lucky enough to duck behind a tree in the nick of time. Kotare knew this orc could not make it back to base camp. If he did, there would be a larger problem. Finally, Kotare readied his Lightning bolt spell. It was by far more accurate and faster. Kotare waited until he was right on top of the fleeing orc and let loose his fury. Kor Por! he shouted and the Orc went down screaming in agony. Though barely alive, Kotare brought his mount back around to finish off the Orc. The Orc, now trying to crawl away seemed to be begging for his life. But spoke in true Orkish. Kotare couldn't understand a word.

But then something happened that stoped Kotare in his tracks. The Orc began to laugh loudly, as if he knew he had won a large victory. It was at that moment, a large net came down on top of Kotare. He struggled to get free but as the first of many orcs neared, he was determined to take as many of them with him. The cries of battle were too loud to ignore and many of the peasantry nearby, began to take up arms and rush to the point of battle.

However, the battle grew quiet and Kotare did not return. When the scene was finally reached, all that remained were a few chard lifeless orcs and the Duke's lifeless horse. The sceene showed a blackened area in the woods with small fires about. The duke was no where to be found.

[Thrax]

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Though wounded severely, the Duke struggled and pulled against the rope netting as the orcs dragged it and him along the ground at a brisk pace. The orcs who followed along behind, acting as armed escort, kept looking back to make sure there was no pursuit. Satisfied that there was none, a one-eyed orc captain grunted approval and bellowed at the others to hurry. They soon came to a small clearing where three hooded men dressed in red and black robes stood waiting. The orc captain raised his hand and he and his troops stopped in their tracks. He strode forward, halting three steps from the man standing in the forefront.

"Ib gid dook fir u," he said, in the best common tongue he could muster. "Ib wan dem shinies!" he ordered, holding out his free hand, while he let his double-bladed axe rest against his shoulder, its haft held firmly in the other hand.

The man calmly reached into his robe, took out a small red bag and dropped it carelessly in the muck at the orc's feet. The orc snorted and picked it up, shook it, then untied the leather cord that sealed it and looked inside. If an orc's facial expression is ever other than a scowling grimmace, this one's was something far worse. "Dis nut nuff! Dis cheep shinies!!!" he grumbled, shaking the bag in front of the man's face. All the other orcs, except the few that still held the net which effectively enshrouded and immobilized their prize, began stomping their feet and waving their weapons in the air, snorting.

The hooded man standing just behind the leader, to his right, snickered, and took a step forward. The orc captain, sensing trouble, dropped the bag and grasped his axe in both hands, readying it.

The man in the forefront extended a gloved palm face up to the riled and bristling humanoid. "There is no need for display, friend. I do not carry such a sum on my person. That would be rather foolish of me, wouldn't it? This is merely a downpayment. Take it, and my word, that the rest will be delivered to you shortly. I swear it. Let there be no unfortunate mishap occur between us over a few... shinies," he said, his tone radiating perfect calm and a sweet reasonableness that was irresistable.

Even the orcs were impressed, pacified, and apparently satisfied at the answer. The captain nodded, relaxed his grip on his axe, and bent over to pick up the bag again.

Sizeable chunks of his shattered helm and cranium preceeded the arrival of his twitching corpse on the ground beside it. Having dispatched the leader, the hooded man wordlessly raised his bloodied maul and strode purposefully forward, followed quickly by the two men behind him. What few orcs did not react quickly enough to the sudden onslaught were cut down in moments, victims of weapons keen and a plan prepared beforehand. The rest fled into the woods for their lives, leaving the man entangled in the net to his fate.

"Marcus, bind him securely and get the net off him," the hooded man barked, pointing to the Duke. "Ivan, do what it is you do." The man named Marcus attempted to grab the Duke's flailing hands, but was stymied until Ivan drew out his dagger and thrust it into the Duke's left arm. "This will hurt a bit, but you will prove easier to manage," he remarked with a snide laugh. The Duke fought successfully to suppress a cry of pain as the dagger's poison went to work quickly, numbing his arm. In seconds he was extremely nauseous, wretching, but was indeed much more cooperative. Marcus locked his wrists in iron manacles and pulled him to his feet, roughly handling him.

By that time the hooded man had cast a gate travel spell and a portal had opened. "We must go. The orcs will be back seeking our blood," he stated, kneeling to pick up the bag of gold coins to take with him.

"M' lord Thrax, what will our orc friends think of us now?" Marcus asked as he prepared to escort the Duke through the portal. He wasn't really worried, but this display of abject treachery against supposed friends did surprise him a bit.

"Friends? Those were renegades, not our allies. Besides, when has any human ever cared for what orcs think?" Thrax replied cooly, then, grasping the Duke's lower jaw, looked into his glazed eyes. "At least the Duke and I can agree on that, can we not?" Duke Kotare spat in his face and jerked his head back and away in disgust at the man's touch.

They entered the portal quickly, leaving the sound of the mad priest's sinister laughter echoing through the forest.