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Chapter 3 - Xellik's Ambition

18th day of Xenar

128th I.E.

Far across the sea, far from the Rogarian Empire, lay a jungle-covered continent called Rhavik. On the western coast of this land was a raised plateau, where a kingdom of orcs resided. The ocean splashed against sheer, craggy cliffs that stretched up along the plateau's edge, and where the stone ended, a looming blackened steel structure extended from the ground. The ramparts were preceded by a layer of spiked protrusions that prevented anyone from scaling the city's walls.

Red-skinned orcs in full armor patrolled the walls, carrying long pikes and armed with hand crossbows. Their bald heads, tattooed with the insignia of their clan, shone in the sunlight. They watched over the sprawling city from above, and kept an eye on the horizon for enemy ships. Though the city of Zugrul was the seat of power for the orcish kingdom, it had yet to see an attack on its shores coming from the treacherous seas that surrounded it. Even so, the orcs remained ever vigil should something happen.

A blanket of humidity rested over the city and the chatter of animals in the not-so distant jungle filled the air. Homes were dome shaped and primarily fashioned out of stone. They were dug into the ground and looked like a field of gray pimples. Some of the more luxurious looking homes had metal roofing on top that reflected the sun's light and helped to cool its residents off.

At the center of the city lay the Temple of War, a place of worship for the orcish people that was dedicated to the Goddess of War, Sytarel. While at one point it had been the home of the orc's High Priestess, Foa Zugruli, it was now in the possession of the ambitious Xellik Fleshgorger who had usurped the throne only a year ago.

While orcs continued to worship Sytarel within the temple, the courtyard had been converted to allow soldiers to train each other and to prepare for the coming battles that their new leader had begun planning. In one small corner, explosions of magefire decimated an already pock-marked section of the yard as orc sorcerers and shaman worked on their tireless research, always seeking a newer, more powerful spell to suit their needs.

The homes along the north side of the temple had been decimated and cleared away, and in this new field, experienced riders were training new recruits how to ride and fight atop their battle boars. The mounts were quad-tusked abominations called Mogor that were significantly larger than a wild boar and exponentially stronger, allowing it to easily overtake a horse and to plow through battlements and soldiers with ease. They had been twisted using the orcs' magics to breed the perfect mount, and after countless decades of research, they had finally perfected them.

Inside the temple, korcyn slaves were worked to the bone and forced to scrub every tile to glimmering perfection. The boar-men, a failed product of the orcs' experiments to perfect the mogor, had been enslaved and performed most of the menial labor that Zugrul required for its upkeep. Though the korcyn were sentient, none were allowed to have their freedom. Any korcyn who refused to work was slaughtered, and fed to his slave brethren.

On the upper-most level of the tower which topped the western side of the temple was the new Warlord of the orcish kingdom. Xellik Fleshgorger sat in a chair, naked as the day he was born as he basked in the sunlight. From his perch on his balcony, he watched the orcs work below. He could hear the clash of steel and feel the thrum of magic as his warriors trained in the yard on the other side of the temple. He watched with interest as the boar riders began to practice moving in a spear-head formation to cut down a number of wooden targets and earth elementals that had been conjured to act as targets.

Xellik sipped a blood red wine from a golden, gemstone encrusted chalice before setting it down on a table. He let out a sigh, content to relax for the moment. The real work would begin soon. After securing his hold over the orcish kingdom not more than a year ago, he was glad to have a chance to enjoy his new found luxuries before his troops began to mobilize.

Even though the last year had been a busy one for the orcs, Xellik felt satisfied. He'd finally fulfilled his promise to not only his tribe, but to the rest of the orcs that he had taken under his wing as the new ruler of the orcish people. His goal had been to overthrow the Zugruli tribe orcs, and to make Zugrul a home for all orcs, even the caste-less tribes like the one he came from.

The bang of hammers on wood and metal echoed up from the piers as Xellik watched the tiny dots that were his people milling about the docks. In a year's time, the dock workers had repaired every ship in the Zugruli fleet and were working on finishing construction of several more vessels.

One of the vessels the crews were working on was the Sytarel's Wrath, a galleon that would serve as Xellik's flagship. He'd seen the sketches of the ship that the engineers had brought to him, and he loved every detail they had put into the vessel. It was to have a hull reinforced with blackened steel along the body and mithril spikes on the bow that would allow it to ram enemy ships and plow through ice floes in the winter. The ship would have sails to move, but it wasn't designed to utilize them except in emergencies. Runes were etched along the entire length of the ship which allowed it to gather mana and fire it out a set of large tubes in the rear, propelling it through even calm seas. The ship would also be the first in the fleet to utilize both standard ballistic cannons as well as magic-infused runic cannons that would be utilized by mages to amplify their spells and launch them greater distances.

When construction had began on his ship, Xellik didn't think it looked anything like the designs, but he waited and as the weeks went by, the ship's skeletal hull began to take shape and looked more and more like the galleon he had been shown.

Every other ship in the fleet had been retrofitted with sails and similar rune-engines that the Sytarel's Wrath had. Xellik had demanded that not a single ounce of orcish sweat was to be used to paddle their fleet, saying that he wanted his people to be warriors rather than oarsmen.

Soon we can move out and begin our operation. Gods, it's like being a whelp the night before a festival, Xellik thought to himself as he watched from his perch. The boar-like korcyn had been put to work almost immediately after Xellik took control of the capital, and the first thing he had built was housing in the Temple of War for his home guard, the original Fleshgorgers that had fled with him from Muriaj. His people deserved better than they had gotten the last six years since they had been driven out of their homeland in the Rogarian Foothills.

It wasn't a good enough paradise to satisfy Xellik though. He wanted to get his people away from the humid, hurricane ravaged jungles of Rhavik and back on Muriaj, where the orcs belonged. Nothing less would suffice for him and his people. He wanted to return to the foothills where his tribe had lived for generations.

A strange gust of wind blew across Xellik's balcony. A lithe, bat winged woman with a whip-like tail appeared next to him, stepping out of a portal ever so gingerly, as if she would injure herself should she touch the edges of the rift. She had long, flowing ebony hair with a pair of small horns on her forehead. She had nothing on, and her pink skin was completely smooth.

As she appeared from the portal, her skin shifted color into the crimson red of an orc's, as if it were being burned by the sunlight. Her wings and tail melted into her body and formed tight, shiny black leather garments and a whip that hung from her belt.

The shape-shifter was a succubus, a demon in the employ of Sytarel. The succubi were the Handmaidens of War, and acted as a proxy avatar for the Goddess Herself. They were powerful spell casters and could shape shift into any being they wanted. They were excellent spies from what Xellik had learned.

The succubus had been hanging around Xellik for the majority of the year, giving him tactical advice as he secured his position as the new leader, and acting as his connection to the Goddess. She came and went as she pleased, and he chalked it up to her having do deal with matters assigned to her by Sytarel.

"Tired of your original form, Nazridia?" Xellik asked her, not taking his eyes off the construction down in the port.

"I'm rather tired of the stares I've been receiving from your people, Xellik. Have they never seen a naked woman before?" she said, scoffing. "They're just a bunch of uncultured savages. It's perfectly fine for a male to walk around naked but if it's a female..."

Xellik couldn't help but smirk at her displeasure. "And here I thought a superior being from another Plane wouldn't be bothered by the gawking of a few ignorant mortals."

"You're amused, aren't you?" she said with a displeased grunt.

"Quite amused," Xellik said. "I assume you came back here for a reason?"

"You're the reason I'm here, Xellik." Nazridia took to leaning against the wall and crossing her arms whenever she spoke with the orc, like she was trying to melt into the background and appear invisible. "What are your plans now that you've secured the capital for yourself and the people have pledged themselves to you?"

Xellik's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "Does Sytarel not already know? I thought the gods were omnipotent."

"Not quite," Nazridia corrected. "Neither Sytarel nor any others of the Pantheon can read your mind and they don't know what you intend to do. They can see all they want to see, but future events are beyond them."

"Huh, I guess they aren't as all knowing and all power as they make themselves out to be," Xellik said wistfully. "Makes you wonder what kind of Gods they really are."

"Don't be so impudent, orc!" Nazridia spat. "You are only in your position because of Sytarel, and you'll do well to remember that." She let a moment of silence pass before continuing. "I ask again, what are you planning to do now?"

"When the fleet is finished construction, I'll be amassing Zugrul's armies and setting sail through the Cana'mord to assault Olaraa's coastal regions." Xellik explained. "The dwarves are weakened from continuous wars, and they are the Coalition's strongest sorcerers. They must fall first."

"And your shaman agree with this plan?" Nazridia asked skeptically.

"Somewhat, they're fairly divided," Xellik admitted. "Some think we should be biding our time and bolstering our numbers. The longer we wait, the stronger the Coalition will become. We cannot hope to overcome their numbers with any amount of waiting. We need to strike while they're weak." He looked into his chalice as he swirled the wine around. "Others think the elves should fall first. And still others think this is a waste of Zugrul's resources. However, it doesn't matter what they believe. The common folk are foolish. They don't know what they need until someone like me gives it to them. I am the will of Zugrul, and the hand of Sytarel. I will do what I think is right, regardless of the opinions and thoughts of others."

"Famous last words, Lord Xellik." Nazridia pointed out.

The orc couldn't help but let out a boisterous laugh. "I have no intention of dying before I have taken Muriaj back and returned the orcs to their ancestral lands."

Nazridia began to walk away, and as she moved she said, "Let us hope that you can keep your word and not disappoint my Mistress." She opened the door and said, "Though, it would seem you and Sytarel are in agreement. I have already dispatched a mole, one of Her followers, to Sanctuary so that he can gather information on the Coalition's movements."

"Is that so? Who is he?"

"A human. But believe me when I say he's a devout follower."

Xellik's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Sytarel worship is rare amongst those pink-skinned rats. Are you sure he's trustworthy?"

"As trustworthy as any spy can be," Nazridia said assuringly.

"In other words, I'll be sure if I ever meet him to not turn my back on him."

"I'll keep you updated with what he learns." Nazridia left and shut the door behind her.

"You'd better." Xellik said. He didn't much care for the demon, but he knew that she played a crucial role in helping him achieve his goals. She provided him with the information about the Freedom Coalition's movements that he needed to plan his invasion of Muriaj. She would also deliver Sytarel's edicts personally to him so that he knew exactly what his Goddess wanted of him.

After remaining on the balcony for a few more minutes, Xellik headed inside. He'd begun to feel hungry and he sought the counsel of one of his eldest shaman, Bytej Fleshgorger. There were still some matters that needed to be cleared up. The orc had helped him get this far, and Xellik trusted him more than he trusted the succubus Nazridia.

Xellik headed back inside and opened the door to his room. He gave a small nod to Haij and Napir, a pair of orcs from his tribe that he had appointed as his personal guards. Haij was the older of the two, and had at one point been Xellik's trainer in the art of combat. Everything Xellik knew about using a sword had come from him.

Napir was Xellik's age, but was very round and had a tendency to eat more food than was his fair share. He was an able but slow combatant, and he'd fattened up in recent months since being ordered to guard Xellik.

"Haij, would you fetch your father for me?" Xellik asked. "I wish to speak with him in private."

"Yes, Xellik," Haij said and started to head off to find Bytej, when Xellik stopped him with a firm grip on the shoulder. "What?"

"That's 'Lord Xellik'," Xellik said, smirking.

Haij shrugged his shoulders and brushed Xellik off. "You're still just a whelp to me, brother," was all he said to him before he stalked away.

"Sounds kind of bitter, doesn't he?" Napir asked when Xellik opened his door to head back inside. The chubbier orc had begun to sport a thick growth of stubble on his face, and he scratched idly at his chin.

"Perhaps, a bit. But that's alright, as long as he doesn't do something foolish," Xellik said. "He's entitled to his opinion, just like any other orc."

"I think you're being too lenient with him, Warlord. Just because he's from our tribe doesn't mean he should be granted any exceptions in how he speaks to you. He's not your instructor any more."

"Haij and me go too far back. I don't think I could be harsh with him or you or any other Fleshgorger," Xellik admitted. "Loyalty to the tribe above all else, right?"

"I suppose," Napir said.

"At any rate, when he comes back with Bytej, send him in right away." With that said, Xellik headed inside and shut the door behind him to await Bytej's arrival.

A pitcher of wine sat on his dresser. Xellik retrieved his chalice and filled his cup and took a sip of it, swirling it around before swallowing it. Wine was a luxury that he could never afford to have back in the slums, back before he had become Warlord of Zugrul. He'd never had the chance to enjoy it, so he took the opportunity to savor it whenever possible. He never drank to the point that it dulled his senses though. There had already been numerous assassination attempts against him by Foa's loyalists, and he wouldn't dare be caught unprepared should there be another attempt on his life.

The displaced Zugruli tribe orcs were still loyal to the former High Priestess Foa, despite the fact nearly every other tribe had fallen under Xellik's rule without complaint. He had even offered them amnesty in exchange for a pledge of loyalty to him, but they still rebelled. Xellik had thought to have every last remaining Zugruli tribe orc thrown into the slave pits with the korcyn, but Bytej and the other shaman had advised him that such an act would be foolish on his part. They felt that doing something so heavy handed would only serve to give the Zugruli orcs reason to hate him further and could potentially give them allies within the other tribes.

Politics, how annoying. Xellik thought as he took another sip of his wine. Perhaps once I have control of Muriaj, they will grow tired of trying to kill me and will fall in place like the other tribes have done?

The door opened and Napir announced that Bytej had arrived. Xellik beckoned the shaman in, and the door was closed behind the elder.

Bytej had aged considerably in the years since the Fleshgorgers had been chased off their land. He'd been forced to lead the tribe and guide them across Muriaj and the sea to seek sanctuary in Zugrul. The deep, dark bags under his eyes remained even now. He continued to wear the same wolf-pelt robe around his waist that he'd had the day they fled Rogust. Though it was tattered, worn, and discolored, the shaman continued to wear the pelt as a symbol of where he'd come from, and for the heritage that had been lost.

"What did you want, whelp?" Bytej said, his voice harsh and tinged with annoyance. "I was in the middle of making some alchemical compounds that need to be watched and crafted with extreme precision, and I don't appreciate being pulled away from them."

"I take it you are enjoying your new found freedoms then?" Xellik asked.

The older orc nodded. Ever since they took over Zugrul, Bytej had taken to spending most of his time in the Great Library studying all its texts and committing everything he learned to memory. They provided him with an endless wealth of information and research for his alchemy, and there was always something new that he was trying to make or improve upon.

Bytej strode across the room and swiped the cup from Xellik's hands. He downed the wine in one gulp and slammed the chalice back down on the dresser.

"I was drinking that," Xellik said matter-of-factly.

"That you were," Bytej replied as he wiped his mouth clean. "Now, what did you summon me for?"

"I wanted to hear your opinion regarding this campaign we have planned." Even though Xellik relied on the counsel from the shaman representing each tribe, he weighed his decisions more heavily based on what Bytej had to say. He trusted his elder more than he trusted the other orcs. Though they had agreed to follow him unquestioningly after he over-threw Foa, he didn't doubt for a moment that some of them harbored some bit of resentment towards the Fleshgorgers for coming in and uprooting the high priestess from her seat of power.

"That's it?" Bytej asked with an exasperated sigh. "I think things are going smoothly. The fleet is moving along at a good pace, and the tests on the rune engines suggest we'll be significantly faster than a sailing vessel. We can execute an attack before the enemy even knows we're coming. Now we just need to hear back from the Blackhorn minotaur and the giants."

Xellik began to pour himself another cup of wine, draining the pitcher to fill the chalice to the brim. "The negotiations with them went well enough initially. I look forward to meeting them at our summit in a couple days, and finally cementing this alliance. I'm concerned about whether there will be any problems, though. Do any of your prophecies or visions tell you anything?" Before Xellik could pick up his cup, Bytej swiped it from the dresser, spilling the red-colored wine on the stone floor. "Hey!"

"I don't foresee any problems." With a single large gulp, Bytej downed the second glass of wine. "Ah... if you're going to summon me, at least make it worth my while, whelp." He tossed the cup unceremoniously towards Xellik, who fumbled with it and barely prevented it from clattering to the ground.

"And you make it worth your while by drinking all my wine?" Xellik asked, frowning. "No matter. I actually wanted to ask you about Nazridia."

"The succubus? I don't trust her," Bytej stated openly, not hesitating to give his opinion.

"Neither do I," Xellik admitted.

The succubus had been coming and going of her own accord since she had appeared. Word had reached Xellik's ears that some of the scholars and mages in the city had been visited by an unknown, unnamed female orc to inquire about a number of topics, including dragons and the locations of their dens and about legends from the Woodcaller minotaur that inhabited the western shores of Rhavik.

"I'd say keep an eye on her. I can't do much to help you in that regard. Scrying her location and her actions would only alert her to our suspicions. I don't think you want to risk that, do you?"

"No, I don't."

Xellik thought for a moment. It was dangerous to meddle in the affairs of a creature that worked directly for a god, but he couldn't allow her to walk around and do as she pleased, not without him knowing at the very least. The best choice would be to have a spy follow her and record her actions. At least if someone was caught, it would be harder to trace the individual's actions back to Xellik.

Xellik sat down in his chair, and rested his head in his hand. "I think Cinra would be best for such a job, wouldn't you agree?"

"Cinra's been scouting since he was a whelp. He'd be the best suited out of any Fleshgorger."

Cinra was someone Xellik had spent most of his life with. The two of them and Napir had all grown up together. Though Cinra was shorter and more scrawny than most his age, his smaller stature and greater agility made him perfect for shadowing a target and gathering information. He'd been instrumental in finding the location of a group of militant Foa loyalists, and had located an ancient relic for Xellik a year ago.

"Give him the order to follow Nazridia around as best as he possibly can, and to question anyone she comes into contact with." Xellik pursed his lips and had another thought come to him. "Have his tribal tattoo replaced with another tribes. I don't want him to be connected to us."

"Did you have a preference as to which one?"

Xellik waved his hand dismissively, "Don't care. As long as he doesn't have a Fleshgorger or Zugruli tribal marker on him anywhere, it's fine."

"I have to commend you on how you're handling things," Bytej said with a nod of approval. "You've grown up fast over the last year and are adapting to the position of a leader quickly. You're getting better at politics, too."

"Bah, politics. It's all a load of garbage having to put on a show and lie just to make sure not to unsettle the ignorant masses that can't even think for themselves." Xellik said bitterly. "I'd sooner crush the opposition and rein my subordinates in with a show of power, rather than having to consider the needs and opinions of as many people as possible. Now, go let Cinra know of his new job. I want him to deliver a message by bird once a week to let me know what he's learned."

"At once." Bytej excused himself and shut the door behind him.

He remained in his seat for a moment before smiling to himself. Everything Xellik had planned for over the years was finally becoming a reality. He was determined to keep things on course and would not let any external forces derail his war effort. He got up and strode over to his window, just in time to watch the dock workers down below begin to lift the mast on his flagship with an array of pulleys and ropes. A scream echoed up from the pier below as one orc was flung from the rails of the ship when the mast was jostled into place, and crashed in a heap in the ocean.

Peons... Xellik thought derisively as the door opened again and a servant brought him a fresh pitcher of wine along with a plate of food.

As he ate, there was a knock at his door. Not bothering to suppress the snarl that escaped his lips, he shouted, "What!?"

Napir opened the door gingerly, like it might come off its hinges if he dared move too quickly. "Warlord, there's an emissary from across the sea that wishes to speak to you."

"From where?" Xellik asked.

"He's a gnoll from Jha'zal," Napir replied, pushing the door all the way open to reveal a shaggy furred dog-man standing behind him.

"Interesting... let him in. I would like to speak to one so brazen as to enter my temple without my permission."

Napir bowed his head and stepped aside to allow the gnoll to enter. Without wasting time, the emissary dropped to his knees and bowed before Xellik. The dog-man was panting, and he surmised that it must have been from the heat. The gnoll's fur was matted in some places and missing in others where deep scars could be seen. He wore only a simple loincloth, and Xellik could see a bulging haversack on his back that suggested he normally wore more.

The scent of wet dog assailed Xellik's flared nostrils, and he cringed away from the gnoll. He wondered how long it had been since the beastman had properly bathed. He sneered, staring intently at the gnoll. This was not how one was supposed to present themselves before someone as important as himself.

Xellik remained sitting and tore at the meat on his plate. "Are you going to speak or just continue to kneel there like some whore? What did you want?" He glared hard at the gnoll.

"You are Xellik Fleshgorger are you not?" The gnoll asked, "Warlord of Zugrul and Chosen Hero of the Goddess of Warriors?"

"I am. And what would you know of it, mongrel?"

"My name is Greenix Sabertooth, and I come to represent the Chieftain of the Darkpaw Gnolls, Fippy Sabertooth." Greenix replied. "We have heard of your triumph over the passive Zugruli orcs, and of your plans for conquest over Muriaj. We wish to pledge our loyalty to you and join you in your war effort."

"How did you find out about this?" Xellik asked. If the gnolls knew, then perhaps the Coalition was already aware of their plans, too.

"One of our seers, a hag named Opalla, told us of a great shadow descending upon Muriaj, and that we were destined to be a part of it. The only thing she could say for certain was that the orcs were massing an army," Greenix explained. "You are, aren't you?"

"I am," Xellik admitted. "Don't take me for a fool though. I know your people have been on the losing side of two wars in the last decade. What forces could you possibly have left to pledge to us?"

"I see our history precedes my arrival," Greenix said grimly. "We are two-thousand strong, with a compliment of three hundred capable necromancers and another fifty shaman. We also host a company of sixty death knights and many capable laborers."

"How do I know you're not lying?" Xellik asked, chomping the last bit of meat off the bone before tossing it aside.

"Our Chieftain requests an audience with you as you pass by Jha'zal. At Your Excellency's earliest possible convenience."

"So this Chieftain of yours wants me to come see for myself what the Darkpaw gnolls have to offer my army?" Xellik asked, and Greenix nodded. "Hmm."

It was a tempting offer. The orcs didn't have many sorcerers at their disposal, and Greenix's offer was too hard to pass up. There was just one small problem that Xellik couldn't overlook. No one did anything for free, and this smelled almost too good to be true.

"What's in it for the Darkpaw? No one does something for nothing," Xellik said pointedly. He needed to know their motivations for wanting to join his army. If nothing else, it would provide him with a bargaining chip for later. "No doubt you're here to cut a deal of sorts."

"We will join with your army and pledge ourselves to yourself and Sytarel," Greenix said. "We'll forsake our gods if we have to."

Xellik had nothing to lose if the gnolls were lying, but everything to gain if he could add their necromantic magics to his army. He needed more sorcerers, and a group of them who could bring fallen troops back to the battlefield would be indispensable.

However, Xellik thought as he watched Greenix, waiting for the gnoll to present his offer, He's hiding something. There's no other reason for him to be so secretive about what this Fippy wants.

"Does our offer please you, Warlord?" Greenix asked.

"No, it doesn't," Xellik replied as he stood up. "Do you take me for some fool that would be convinced by such deceitful remarks!?" His voice began to climb as he balled up his fists. "I didn't get here to be the first male leader of the orcish tribes since our once grand empire dominated this world by playing stupid political games. Now out with it! What is it that your leader wants?"

"I speak no deceit," Greenix told him, bowing his head once again. His voice wavered slightly. "We do not fear any retribution from our gods. We have already been cast aside by them, as evidenced by our inability to defeat the dwarves when they invaded. We wish to align ourselves with one who is building an army, one who is in a position to help us." He looked back up at Xellik and met his steely gaze. "We wish to retake our homeland, and to get our revenge against Olaraa." The last bit he spoke with a raised voice, then suddenly as if remembering his place, he lowered his head again and was quiet.

"You're homeland? You're not from Jha'zal?"

Greenix shook his shaggy head. "No, we hail from what is now called Yasuragi, that island where those accursed bears come from."

"Interesting," Xellik said simply. Yasuragi was not a well defended land. In fact the ursar, that inhabited the island were pacifists by nature. They had no military to speak of, and the island would quickly fall before his army. It would only be a slight detour, and if it would guarantee the gnoll's allegiance, it was a worthwhile trade off.

What made it especially tempting was the gnoll's desire to strike back at Olaraa. The dwarves and gnolls had a violent history in recent years, and they were a roadblock Xellik was expecting to deal with as soon as his army landed on Muriaj. If the gnolls wanted revenge in exchange for a pledge of allegiance, against mutual enemies, then Xellik had nothing to lose. He could throw the gnolls on to the front lines against the dwarves and spare the rest of his troops for the invasion deeper into the continent.

"Alright, I accept your terms. You shall remain here as our honored guest and will speak on behalf of your people at our coming summit." Xellik bit the thin skin between his thumb and forefinger, drawing blood and filling his mouth with the taste of metal. He held it out to shake hands with the gnoll.

Greenix mimicked the action and the two shook hands, mixing each others' blood. "I appreciate your consideration, Warlord. I look forward to seeing great things for both our people in the future."

Xellik snorted. "Just watch. In a year's time, all of Muriaj will be under our rule. You may go, and see what Zugrul has to offer."

"Quite ambitious, my Lord. I hope that we will see it become a reality." Greenix bowed again, then scurried out of the room. The balcony called to Xellik again, and he stepped out onto the terrace to look below as the gnoll scampered through the streets.

This is an unexpected turn of events, Xellik thought, With the Gnoll's necromancy by our side, the dwarves won't stand a chance. And all they want is for us to destroy Xenaria? It'll be like stealing food from an orcling.