Laying Hammer to Stone [Open to all]

[Gauls]

Season of Summer,
Era II of the Celestine Mandate,
Era XIV Post Fractum,
the Second Era of the Regency of Milo L'Evienne

The Sherian Cosmopolis' once peaceful lands are now scarred by war. A war that has not gone too well for the Empire but better than anyone in Ire "Orckon" could have dreamed. The long disputed lands of Narim and Autumnus have now switched hands again, now from human to orc. The Great Horde of Orckon still relishing their victories over the Imperial Legions in both Narim and Arium lands has caused a torrent of dark races to descend upon the western half of the Sherian Provence. The courage and honor of the orc has never been higher since the founding of their great city fortress of "Orckon". Orc clans and mobs are descending in droves from the far corners from which they have had to huddle for so long. Finally they have a light beaconing them back to their native lands.

The new orc realm stretches from just south of Narim north to the border of the Sherian Provence then east to a line drawn by the natural boundary of the Khardran and Taralon Mountains. These were hard fought gains that took many lives to achieve and the Horde Master had no intentions of losing not one inch of now sacred orkish land. The Horde Master Vrassun Tallarak has ordered every member of the Horde not actively patrolling and all those unfortunates that they can find and force into labor to build fortifications throughout the newly gained lands.

The Horde took to this task with rigor as they gathered every tool and resource they could find to build what some residents of Orckon have not seen since the building of their city. Axes, hammers, cries, screams, roars, all could be heard from boundry to boundry. Trees were felled, soil turned into massive defensive mounds, even the stones from Narim and Autumnus were taken to use in building these works of ghoulish orc architecture.

None from the outside so far could see what was going on within the western half of Sheria. Worg riders patrolled the borders with a keen eye and regular orc patrols roamed all over looking for anything to kill. What where all these sounds coming out of this occupied land? What was the Great Horde up to? The situation has greatly changed over the past season since the fall of Narim and before any new plans concerning this land be made, it will require some intelligence gathering.

[Gauls]

Down a narrow mountain path in the Khadran range just northeast of Orckon, worg patrols clambered to the top of a large rocky peak to spy down upon a cloud of dust that was spotted just a few minutes earlier by another worg patrol. The path that the cloud was following is a known orc trail not known by most shara. Was it a band of hapless travelers or an enemy patrol?

From a distance, one could see the worg riders as they bound upward toward the peak where they were now but once they got there, they disappeared in the distance. Suddenly, one of worg rider sprang back into view atop the peak and blew a horn call. He then turned his beast around and lept downward out of sight again. Other horn calls could be heard leading from the mountains all the way down the foothills then to who knows where. It sounded like the whole provence has just been warned of something but what? The dust cloud continued its approach.

To the south of Narim, in the Taralon mountains, and the area surrounding the former site of Autumnus, the sounds of beasts, axes, and hammers continued at a constant din. The pillow of smoke that constantly hangs over Ire seems to be growing as if it was a living creature growing as one looks on. The forges of Orckon are buzzing...

[Volund]

Sniffing hungrily along the balding ground of a worn trail, a large Worg moved through the cedar forest that clung to the ridgeline of a expansive mountain range.
Far down the slope of the hillside a clump of encrusted mud slowly broke off from a wet clay pond and edged up the grassy knoll.
If one peered close enough, they would be able to make out the silhouette of a humanoid soaked head to toe with mud and covered in cedar branches.
The Elfkin who was known among mercenary circles as the Black Raven had covered his entire body with the musk of cedar and rich dirt to mask his scent and camouflage his form.
Opening two eyes, the pale white orbs starkly contrasted the ruddy browns and greens enshrouding the Sellsword. Piercing blue irises dilated around black pupils gaging the depth of field between their owner and the Orc Patrol far to the northeast.

Volund had two days earlier rolled his woolen cloak over the scabbard of his longsword shielding both from the muck. His rations were running low, but he was recently hydrated and ready to forge far deeper behind enemy lines. It may take him several more brightenings, but he would crawl far enough through the mountain range to supply the Sheridan encampment of the Imperial Army with the precious Intel it would need for a calculated and precise strike. He just had to be patient.
He had to keep his cool. Just keep on breathing, nice and slow.

[Gauls]

Volund

Patrols roamed the borders with an overlapping range but that was not enough to spot the patient Black Raven. Being wet and covered in mud hid his scent from the voracious worgs lurking everywhere but the footprints and dripping mud would be a sure sign of his progress should an orc or other nasty happen upon his trail. Luckily the commotion coming down the mountain range in a cloud of dust has drawn the patrol's interest. So far so good, there was nothing in the immediate area that would benefit Volund but perhaps this was a great chance for one to sneak further inland before the patrols returned to their guard paths and discovered his trail. It was only a matter of time.

To Volund's northest...

The dust trail had now descended from the mountain range and was now in the Khardran foothills northeast of Ire. The dust seemed to settle down a bit now as whatever it was making the cloud came down to the more moist soil of the foothills. These hills are criss-crossed with orc trails as they are a highway for orc patrols constantly circling and keeping an aerial view of Ire below. The city walls and three spires are still visible from this height. The ground and surroundings on the hills themsleves is tree-less and pocked with large boulders. One hill will roll down onto another as they descend toward the baseline below creating some small crevices and micro valleys.

The trees at the base of the foothills are bare as they always are regardless of the season due to the spoiling of the soil by the orcs. This makes the scene a bit eerie with the tree's bare limbs jutting up into the air like hands in a death pose. The ground is strewn with dead leaves and pine needles with the sun bearing down upon them and reflecting light back upward.

As the dust cloud up in the range dissipates, it will be harder to locate whatever it was making it. No other happenings so far have presented themselves.

[Volund]

Noticing the startling commotion behind him, the Dark Elf crawled to his knees and hunched low while sprinting hard towards the edge of a steep but somewhat grassy cliff, lined with jutting mounds of great stone. Throwing his feet down first, Volund used the wet telath and his own soiled leathers to slide down the embankment a good thirty feet before reaching a flat base. He blanketed the force of impact with three controlled rolls ending in one reckless tumble as he had misjudged his original velocity.
Reaching the bottom of the gulch, the Elf was below the line of sight, pushing hard along the Highlands that rose on a soft incline. His new canyon pass faced the pinnacle of the great snow covered spire, giving him a breathtaking view.
The Mountain rose before him with the overpowering presence of a god. It`s height dwarfed even clouds and blotted out the sky creating a foreboding yet serene backdrop to his reconnaissance.
Volund vaulted over a long cracked granite face pivoting with his right hand, landing on both feet hard enough to sink them a good inch into the wet soil.
Sprinting up the bank of the canyon wall, the mercenary dug his hands into the rock and pulled himself frantically up towards a plateau he could roll over; hiding before any goblinoid eyes could spot him out.
He was breathing hard now, the caked mud drying and peeling from his face as the Raven removed his right glove with his teeth to gain a stronger grip on the porous stone.

[Gauls]

Volund

At this height, the elf could indeed see far but so could other eyes see him. The elf was hanging onto the side of a small cliff where just above him a few feet up was a flat ledge about 15 feet wide and had a flat surface about 10x10 feet. Looking directly below him, he could see his own feet prints in the mud and the smears where his clothes had wiped up against the rocks.

The views were great up in the hills but immediately below one could spot the city fortress of Orckon or "Ire". Something else though that didn't register right away because of it's strange design were what looked like large earth mounds. These mounds were so large that they could be spotted from even as great a distance as Voland was. Looking to different directions, one could see these mounds scattered everywhere. What were they really?

To the south, fires burned. All that can be seen from where Voland was is just the smoke trails leading up into the sky.

The view east was all mountains but the view west one could make out more mounds and dark figures though they were too far away to judge what they were.

Behind Voland to the north coud be heard voices. Two voices and they sounded human. One sounded like he was arguing with the other. They approached walking southward on a path that crosses where Volund had walked to get to the spot he is in now.

As the figures came around the corner, there was a quick moment to catch a glimpse of who it was. The first figure came into view was in fact a human, barbari human it appeared from his dress and as the next figure appeared around the bend, surprisingly it was a katta warrior. Both did not appear to be alarmed by anything so their weapons were sheathed. The katta was holding an odd pole about 8 feet long. At the end was a strange wood crafted symbol. It was round with an open center. In the center was some straps of leather that looked to be fashioned intentionally into a fancy design. Was this a flag or some sort of sign post?

[Volund]

The Elfkin known as Black Raven put a great deal of effort into breaking this deep behind enemy lines. To see a human, and a katta move so leisurely through territory he considered mortally dangerous meant they were either thralls or vassels to the Orcish Lords, or something very strange was afoot.
Volund caught his breath edging along the plateau line, observing the strangers.
The view of the great citadel and the earthen mounds covered in smoke far below was foreboding. He sniffed the air to trace the odour back to something familiar while only moving a slightly as possible. The monstrosity of the fire burning south did not bode well either, and the Dark Elf considered the possibility that these fools were actually burning crops. Food they might need to sustain themselves for a long war ahead.
He stayed in the shadows for now, pushing his ruddy form flat against the stone to hide awareness of his presence. He would not engage the banner holders until he had a better idea of what they represented, or until the Orcs ripped their flesh asunder.
The rockface and the damp mud was very cold against his skin. He enjoyed the challenge of his task, and was used to long stretches of time away from warmth and company. In truth, it took more mental training then physical strength to wait out a chilling storm, or lack of food. He felt some pride in his past campaigns, and where they brought his endurance today. Now was different though, it was life or death and he needed to uncover many more strategic locations, real military numbers and unit placement before he would begin looking for a way out.
To see the Sheridan countryside ravaged like this was expected. It barely even shocked him to see the vast destruction as he had expected far worse. So far this one encampment would make for easy prey if he could find at least two seperate paths in, with one route safe from projectiles and arrows would be ideal.
If an advance strike party could break in and open the gate, the main force would be able to crush the citadel with minimal resistance. On the rear of a long rolled scrap of birch bark, Volund began marking locations, watch towers and patrol routes.

[Gauls]

Volund

The winds of the east are blocked by the Khardran range but from Volund's position and elevation in the foothills, the winds rushing down from the mountain peeks sends a chill down anyone's spine. The slight drizzle of rain that accompanies the winds makes the skin shiver. The man and katta continued along the path luckily not spotting Volund's footprints or noticing him up on the cliff face. They walked right below him and traveled along the path southward with their strange symbol at the end of the pole. They stopped about 50 feet away from where Volund hung precariously. The katta held the pole straight up above his head then plunged it into the gound where the symbol faced south.

"No dummy, the symbol's gotta face toward Orckon!" the man snapped.

"Kaaa!" the katta replied then turned the symbol toward the city fortress below.

The man scrambled upon a 3 foot tall stone next to the pole and took out his war hammer. Using the hammer, he began to pound the pole into the ground to keep the symbol securely standing.

"There, that did it." the man said jumping down from the stone. "Let's get the next one. We got a lot more to go."

The two turned and proceeded down the trail until they were out of sight. So far, Volund still has not been discovered. How much longer can his luck hold out? Hopefully long enough to get as much info as he needs.

To the west...

Distant figures just barely visible could be more mounds as Volund had seen in his immediate area but then again, one would have to get closer to get any useful details about what exactly they were or what function they had. Building southward down the west coast moving toward the Narim ruins is yet another cloud of dust. Volund is too far to see anything but the dust cloud from where he is but whatever it is must be large to be making such a large ploom of dust. Trees screen any visual identification but perhaps moving down closer westward one could discern what it was.

To the south...

The smoke floating up into the air south of the Khardran range continued but one would have to get alot closer to figure out exactly what it was that could make such a cloud. Surely all that smoke couldn't be coming from camp fires. The pure number of troops needing that many camp fires would be incredible. Barely visible too could be spotted more mounds and towers but just barely noticeable one could see masses of people. They looked to be doing something in a grove of trees but again, too far away to get any more details.

In the direction of Narim...

Though Narim was too far away to be seen, in the general direction far off could be heard an incredible din of noises ranging from yells to metal hitting wood.

the area around Ire...

From the vantage point Volund was looking from, he could not see any movement in the fortress below. He would have to get alot closer. The smog that hangs over the city virtually every day makes it impossible to just peer down into the city's grounds. The noises coming from that direction though indicated that the orcs were not sitting behind their walls idle. Peering down looking around his immediate surroundings, there were no signs of any roads or trails leading down to the city itself from any direction. The city is built into a forest of dead trees with no leaves and there is about a 300 meter barren wasteland surrounding the city. This will make any approach highly difficult as enemies can be seen from great distances. Not noticed before, Volund can now see masses of people outside the city walls of the city doing something near the tree line surrounding the city. It appears they are chopping down trees for something and dragging them closer to the walls.

[Volund]

The mercenary scanned the horizon line taking into account every detail. There were multiple targets needing further reconnaissance, including the dust cloud, the smoking mounds which he still could not make out but sniffed the rising air again to make sure they were not what he suspected. The noises below were distant but constaint, and it was a fair bet they came from forges, fires and hammers.

The mounds were of particular interest, and so was the grove far to the south, even more important was exacting details to the fortification and strength of numbers. Volund shivered, the damp mud clinging to his leathers but he held his composure and did not move even a muscle.
The human and the katta standing across from his position were aligning an banner to face the large encampment below.

As their actions were so unorthodox the elf had no context to place the situation in other than two thralls marking their master's territory or the use of magic; aligning the banner to match some astrological force. The Black Raven was more familar with steel then understanding the mood swings of the gods, so he stepped quietly to follow the pair preparing to uncover the significance of their task before finishing his own.

[Gauls]

Volund

The half-elf did make a safe descent from his perch on the cliff face back down to the path below. After all, it was becoming a burden trying to write and hold onto a cliff face at the same time. Volund made his way southward down the trail that the human and katta had taken but the two were nowhere to be found. Volund soon found himself at the base of the foothills now. His aerial view now no more, he was now limited to what he could see from horizon to horizon. Walking down the path though, Volund would notice that those symbols of unknown purpose were posted everywhere. They seemed to be in a line forming a boundary of some sort. Perhaps they were what he had assumed that they were a marker of the new orkish lands or something along those lines. It was still only a guess though. The orcs would need some divine help after all if Volund were to find some weak spot and report it back to the Empire.

at the base of the foothills...

Where Volund was it was hard to realize how far into enemy lands he had wandered. Ire was directly to the west of where he was so he had to tread carefully. Orc spies were everywhere and the Black Raven would have to speed up his recon as it was now just a matter of time before he was discovered. Hopefully Volund's escape route up the path and into the mountains from whence he came isn't teeming with orcs or worgs right now. If he had to make a quick escape, this would definitely pose a problem. The smoke south of Volund's position could be seen rising up over the horizon but the half elf still could not see what was causing it. Stiffing the air did smell like camp fires though. To Volund's east were mountains so that way was blocked. Hopefully there was nothing up there looking down upon him as he was just before.

[Volund]

Crossing down from the embankment where he had found refuge, The Black Raven decended the wry mountain slope cautiously, looking for any sign of the two flag bearers. Finding nothing but jagged fallen stone, he slid down the foothills on all fours, intending to infiltrate closer into the encampment of Ire.

Volund crawled on his hands and knees among the deadwood and needles, the dried husks of pine clinging to his camouflage allowing him to blend into the landscape with ease.
So far he had mapped the general area and terrain, and now he would flush out the details.
Crossing a used trail with steel grey animal fur caught between the roadside branches, the fullblooded Elf leaped into the accompaning brush using speed and stealth to remain unseen.
This was not his first recon mission, and if he had his way it wouldn't be the last either. Most contracts he had fulfilled previous were carried out with a small party of five to six trained rangers and sellswords. Only a handfull he had done alone, but by living in close proximity to those who ate, slept, breathed, and killed in the woods; tendencies, habits and skills worked themselves into his every day routine and awareness with minimal forethought. On top of that, his Elven blood and constitution provided him an natural inclination towards woodland subterfuge and blending into the terrain.

Moving forward inch by inch, Volund could start to hear voices and make out singular sounds above and below the din of crackling wood, and steel upon steel. Calculating the course of the mountainside, he followed it's ridge line northwest as the main gate appeared to be facing the opposite side of the rockface, considering the foothills blanketed the city from the east.

Painfully slow, the Sellsword wedged himself under a large rotten trunk of wood and scanned his target, this time looking for definitive trail lines, location of towers, oil, barracks, armory, and the ebb and flow of general traffic. It was through the surge of bodies moving like twinkling waves in the sea that he hoped to find a hint of some weakness, or secondary entrance the Imperial Forces could exploit.

Ignoring his body's rising need for sustenance, Volund had rationed his meals to half the usual feed. The supply was running low, and he had yet to find a means of securing fresh provisions without breaking cover. He would just have to weather out the cravings for now and remain patient. The Elf's life depended on his ability to survive, which meant long term goals superseding short term needs for as long as his body could hold out.
If the Worgs killed another deer the Merc could possibly scavage the remains, but being so close to civilization meant the wildlife was far, far, gone.
He would think of something, he always did.

[Gauls]

Volund,

Choosing not to go further south to investigate what the dark elf has assumed to be camp fires billowing smoke up into the air and instead heading into the lion's den of the enemy is either a very courageous or very bone-headed act. Now Volund will have to rely solely upon the skills he possesses to avoid detection and capture.

Moving northwest by west, Volund has moved ever so closer to the heart of the enemy's operations, the great orc fortress of Ire. He was indeed skilled at cover and concealment as he is able to get closer than any enemy ever has to the great walls of the city without meeting a horrible death. Perhaps something was keeping the orc's attention away? Maybe not...

The Black Raven as he is known is close to the tree line that surrounds the city. He has approached the northern side of the fortress but there is a 300 meter barren wasteland of treeless and glassless swath of spoiled soil that lies between him and the city walls. At the point where the treeline touches this wasteland, only about 100 feet in front of Volund is a group of orcs, katta, and goblins with axes hacking down dead trees and then dragging the skeletal remains of the trunk and branches back toward the city walls. It appears that the orcs are building an abattis fortification around the base of the city walls. It would seem that the orcs are expecting trouble.

Looking through the dead forest that he is in, the dark elf can see the city walls in the distance. Through his observations, he could make notes on what he has seen:

The massive iron doors that make up the Main Gate and North Gate of Orckon are set inside huge smooth-faced stones that appear to be solid masses. In fact, the gates are massive tunnels that lead into the city proper. On top of the city gates are battlements and a barracks for the wall’s garrison are built right into the wall itself overlapping the gates on both left and right sides. In essence, one has to actually walk through the barracks in order to enter the city.

Grey walls at least 20 feet tall and also smooth-faced flank each side of the gates and stretch the whole length of the city. The only features of the walls are a narrow horizontal archer’s slot that is situated about 5 feet below the massive ramparts stretching the length of the wall and head size pitch holes dotting a space every 15 feet just below the archer’s slot. Other than that, the walls are smooth and featureless except steaks of mold that run from top to bottom in some places.

At every corner of the city’s outer wall and at points at the center of each wall is built a stronghold. The strongholds are solid masses of stone that have battlements crowning the tops. Inside the strongholds are caverns and tunnels that give easy access to the walls that connect on each side of the stronghold. The strongholds are designed to be fall-back positions in case of attack or siege thus they are well equipped to stand as independent forts in the event that the outer walls are breached. There are seven strongholds that are home to the seven hosted clans of the city. The eighth stronghold is located at the main gate and is used as the barracks for the wall’s garrison. The hosted clans that are given a stronghold to reside in are also responsible for defending that stronghold and the surrounding walls in the event of attack. None are allowed on the wall or in a stronghold unless they are a Horde member or a member of one of the hosted clans. Access to the walls adjacent to a stronghold is only accessible by the owners of that stronghold.

Volund was making his observations when suddenly there was a snap of a branch behind him. Then there was a growl. A sudden chill would overcome anyone in this situation as Volund was lying prostrated on the ground to avoid detection with no hope of reaching his weapon without knowing how far away the thing was behind him.

A few seconds passed which seemed like an eternity as the Black Raven may be living his last seconds of life.

: Snorts could be heard and then a whisper :
"Wud ya smell boy?"

Only a growl could be heard in reply and then more sniffing. Volund still could not look over to see what it was yet without giving up his location.

Footsteps, heavy ones, pounded in the dark elf's ears as the thing stepped within 5 feet to Volund's left side. Still he has yet to be discovered. A few steps more and then Volund could see it, a worg and orc rider. The massive brown fur coated beast with huge black claws. Drool running from the corner of his mouth as he seemed a bit confused as to where the scent he had detected was leading him. The orc too was looking around but was looking further out than where Volund was lying. The cover the dark elf was using was perfect, neither of them could see him lying just 5 feet away.

The beast began to walk forward about 4 steps from Volund's position. The pounding heartbeat of Volund started to ache as it seemed as though they were going to walk right by him sparring his life.

~GUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRP~

A loud rumble deep in Volund's gut sounded like the rolling of a war drum in the stillness. Volund was master of his cravings to eat but he was not the master of involuntary digestive rumblings.

The loud belly growl alerted the worg and the rider quickly swung his beast around. They spotted him and only about 8 feet away. His next actions were critical...

[Volund]

From beneath the barren landscape of brown pine needles, brush, mud, sticks and stone arose a monster. Similar to spotting a chameleon pressed against a leaf, the Orc's heart leaped in shock as it realized the full significance of what it's eyes had uncovered. Born from such calm surroundings it was overwhelming to witness the disfigured creature errupt from thick woodland brush with an conquering surge of wild ferocity.
As the body of the monster was caked with mud, cedar and pine it would be quite telling to say this beast was no thrall or slave. It was especially telling when the earthen wraith unsheathed a gleaming longsword and charged towards the Scout in complete silence.

Moving towards the east of the Worg, Volund stepped down low onto his left leg, pivoting his upper torso while leading in with the sharp edge as he followed in tandem with his right leather boot. The Raven spun through a circular 360 degree motion with the purpose of deflecting any initial bite or stab towards his person while getting close enough to do some real damage.
He cleared the weapon easily over his head, and as Volund's finishing foot landed his blade would have already passed through the foreleg of the mighty Worg, cleaving it into two distinct pieces before he could take hold of the momentum once more and redirect it.

Upon success of his opening assault, the Darkened Elf reversed the steel from his left hip and would drive the four foot blade into the creature's nearest eye socket up to the hilt.
Knowing time was of the essence, and considering he had two opponents stacked vertically before him; The Black Raven followed through the accomplished sequence of spinning attacks by leaping to his right without taking the time to remove the wedged blade from it's gory scabbard.

He needed to end this with the same sudden precision as he started it, before any real alarm could sound, giving him enough time to get clear of the Scout and further investigate the terrain. Preparing for this moment was one thing, living it was quite another. His heart pounded with the beat of a heavy drum, but he was mentally unaware as he had channelled his entire focus through the powerful extention of his own arms, carving into the Wolf with vicious accuracy and passionate distain.

[Gauls]

Volund was correct to go straight at the beast first as the orc was completely shocked at what he saw and the worg's head was close enough for Volund's actions to take effect before the worg even knew what happened.

The Black Raven was quick to slash at the worg's left leg and cause a great cut but there was far too little power behind his swing and the quickness in which he had to deliver the first and then second blow did not allow him to focus his strength.

The worg reared back and yelped one loud time throwing the rider backward onto the ground. The leg did not sever but it mattered not, as the animal came back down from rearing backward, Volund ran his sword into the spot he was aiming, the eye.

This whole event took a moment to digest. Volund lost his primary weapon in the beast's eye socket and all he had was his tomahawk. The orc rider was scared stupid and scrabbling away whimpering. The worg's yelp was loud enough that the orcs working just 100 feet away turned and saw the orc on the ground scrambling toward them. Looking beyond that they spotted Volund. The alarm went out and already goblins were reaching for bows slung across their backs to fire at Volund.

If Volund threw his tomahawk, he would be weaponless and would have to prey that his longsword did not get stuck in the worg's skull. Another option would be to make his get away and perhaps live to fight another day.

[Volund]

The battle began and flashed out like a matchstick before the idle mind of a slave would even begin to process any sensation outside of his own self pity.
Volund did not even hesitate to think. Instead of throwing the hatchet and risk loosing his only sharpened stick, the Mercenary used the cutting edge of the axe to slash open a small hole in the Worg's windpipe.
Blood and air from the creature's failing lungs would blow past him as he hacked a wound deep enough to stop the beast from moving.
His motions were efficent and focused, leaving nothing to chance or emotion.
Volund calculated the action for every precious moment he had in mid swing.
Distance versus effectiveness, and desire versus need.
A strong feral urge in his chest demanded he slay the Orc, but his intellect knew there was not enough time to find satisfaction and live to tell the tail.

Snatching at the sword grip, The Raven pressed one foot against the animal's skull and pulled hard through the eye socket to pry the weapon loose. Using both hands he pulled away from the tension, allowing the sharp edge of the steel to free it's self from the gore.

Whether he succeeded or not, the sellsword had to leave.
Composing his mind and taking deep steady breathes, Volund bounded up the foothills and into the mountain slope beyond, finding cover in the cracks, canyons and valleys. There was still much work to do, but first he needed to loose the scent and sight of his hunters. It might take more time then he could afford, but the area needed further reconnaissance.
Tearing across the terrain, Volund pushed hard up the rocky craigs and boulders, his long hair flapping in the wind. Hiding his outline beyond the rise of the terrifing smoke to the south, the Dark Elf paced into the shadow of the great mountain.