The journey northward through the mountainous terrain was reminiscent of the documentaries I’d watch with Casey back home, some deep and curious voice speaking about the great specialness that created the place and the wondrous animals that lived there. Patches of densely forested landscape gave us targets to reach across the otherwise craggy frost-rimmed rocks and clay-laden rises and our path was marked by a series of steep ravines and declines. It was a challenge for the smaller beings among us, and I took to ferrying them by hand, one at a time, up the taller aspects of our way.

As we navigated the rugged wilderness, I noticed that many of the NPCs were now wrapped in warm, albeit ragged, piecemeal clothing. Ike, walking beside me, noticed my gaze. “They’ve been sorting out the clothing issue on their own,” he said with a hint of pride. “They might be NPCs, but they’re Shadowed Vanguard NPCs and that counts for a lot. Plus it helps that we got a couple of good tailors among them. Crafters too.”

I nodded, impressed. It was a small victory, seeing them able to do something that none of us adventurers here could do. It gave them a strength that I appreciated. It made sense in regard to Lords of Chaos as well. In the game we always had to go to town and to the NPCs to get the good things done. We were the battlers, but they were the ones who made the world. Looked like that was the case here as well.

Jeldorain’s presence in my mind stirred, his tone laced with amusement. Crafters and tailors, eh? In the Hells, they’d be prime targets for a bit of fun. Here, they seem to be the backbone of your little army.

Our progress was cautious yet steady, the sun reaching its zenith before slowly rolling down towards darkness. Sometime past noon we ran into our most dangerous part of the journey, coming upon a large chasm so deep that even with heat vision none of us could see the bottom. Skirting around it wasn’t so bad, but the things that came out from there were certainly not anything I wanted our NPCs to have to tussle with.

Jeldorain chuckled darkly as the creatures approached. Ah, now this is more like it. A bit of excitement to spice up the journey.

Eyeless simians with lobster pincers for hands emerged, apish bodies rustling with plates of chitinous armors that creaked as they moved. They snorted the air with gorilla-like nostrils, clacking their hands in our direction and trundling forward after us. All of us readied for the attack, putting ourselves between them and our people, but they were hesitant as they got closer.

I wondered if they could somehow sense our levels and the powers that we held. There were a full sixty of them, and they looked fierce, but after our people moved far enough away, they seemed to lose interest and went back to where they had come from

I asked about what they were, but even Jeldorain hadn’t a clue. It was as if the chasm was a portal to a new world.

Then there were the howls that echoed through the mountains just as dusk began to envelop the sky. We were advancing up a slope, nearing a flat in the mountain that looked perfect for camp, when they echoed through the trees and coursed over us. The sound was eerie, a chorus of haunting wails that came from the East, and over us all swept the aura of fear, some NPC’s moaning loudly.

“Direlings,” Kevinar whispered, his eyes scanning the darkening woods. “Creatures of the deep mountain. Fear-aura attack. They try to shatter groups then take out those who break from the pack.”

“Everyone hold hands,” I bellowed. “Anyone tries to leave, you knock them over. And stop moving. Let’s see what happens when no one breaks ranks.” I looked to Kevinar and he nodded approvingly. Scanning our people, I saw that Ike had gone amongst a gaggle of children, herding them together towards the absolute center of our group.

The howls grew louder, more frantic, glowing eyes peering out from the last line of trees in a thick patch of forest oak. More of our people moaned, and one woman screamed, only to be knocked to the dirt and dragged to the center by Ike.

And then the music started. Stepped out from our group in the direction of the Direlings, Brandosyeus began to play, a melody that was both soothing as sad, The effect was immediate, waves of bravery rolling through us even as the howls began to soften, blending with the music, creating a symphony that was strangely harmonious. Brandosyeus continued to play, his fingers moving deftly over the pipes.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The Direlings stepped out of the forest, drawn to the music. Their bodies were sleek and covered in shimmering fur that twinkled like stars in the twilight. Their eyes continued to glow with their ethereal light as they circled around us, but the light was different now. Smoother and uninterested. They made no move to attack.

As the last notes of the melody faded into the night, the Direlings retreated back into the darkness. The rest of us simply watched them go, then turned to the bard in our midst.

“That was incredible,” I said to Brandosyeus.

“Direlings are misunderstood creatures. Perhaps infernals are the same,” he responded, turning and moving back into the group.

From there we continued on, moving onto our target camping site and breaking out all of our camping implements. Wood was chopped even as our tent city took shape and rose up around us, and I left with Kevinar and Ike to walk to the edge of the slope and look over the mountain onto the plateau that was our ultimate target. The orc camp was visible in the distance, its center marked by multiple small fires. I estimated there could be as many as a thousand orcs.

That was either a really good number, or a really bad one. The next day would decide which.

Kevinar, adjusting his shaded goggles, removed their tint and zoom-scoped them in. “Take a look,” he offered, passing the goggles to me.

Through the enhanced view, the camp details became clearer – the arrangement of their cook fires, the movement of orcs, even the flap of their lips as they chatted with one another. “Orc. Orc orc orc,” I could imagine them saying, and the idea made me chuckle.

The layout of the tents struck my eye as wrong, though, as I glanced over the rest of the camp. They were haphazard and sloppy. The orcs in Lords of Chaos were chaotic on the battlefield, preferring to charge rather than stay in orderly ranks. But when it came to their camps and homes, they preferred disciplined and defensible rows.

There was none of that here.

Surveying more closely, I looked for other strange details that would indicate something was off. They moved about stiffly, glancing over shoulders and peering into darkened nooks and crannies as if worried and afraid of attack. In one area, a group of orcs were gathered around a fire, a jovial enough spot to commune. But their laughter seemed forced, their glances furtive. In another area, orcs sparred by a tall bonfire, but their movements were slow and lacking.

“They’re going through the motions,” I muttered, handing the goggles back to Kevinar.

He peered through again, then handed them to Ike. “There is a tent in the North side of their camps that flies symbols of the Cult of Gharag.”

I felt Jeldorain chill inside of me.

“The ones who infused us?” I asked.

“The very same,” Ike answered. “There are other clan banners around it as well. Some of them aren’t friendly, but here they are neighbors. And look at the perimeter guards. They’re not just watching for random encounters. They keep glancing back at the camp, like they're guarding against something inside.”

Hostages, Jeldorain said. The Wars of the Hells do the same. Take the families of the nobles and hold them to force their armies to fight for you.

I turned to my companions, relaying his thoughts.

“The Houses of the Dark do the same,” Kevinar said, pausing. “To free a house from such bondage, one must simply rescue the hostages.”

“And then they’ll help us out?” I asked.

Ike grunted. “They’re orcs. You pull a fast one on them, and they’ll chase you into the Icy Hells themselves to get their justice.”

It’s true, Jeldorain noted. In my head I saw images of a dark mage opening a gate to Jeldorain’s realm and fleeing into it. Without any hesitation, a mob of angry orcs tore through the gates and chased after him, oblivious to the cold.

I whistled, impressed. “That’s what we do then. Sneak around the camp and to the tents in the North. Scout the interior to make sure there are hostages. Rescue them and bring them back here to join our NPCs. And then return and open up dialog.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Ike said, scratching at his chin.

“What can I say? I’m apparently a great talker,” I noted. Kevinar laughed.

Quest Chain: The Orcs

Quest 1: Investigate Orcish Sympathies

Difficulty: Normal

Objectives: Find information about the Orcs and why they are working with the Goblin Empire.

Rewards: Possible Alliance. 1000 XP.

Penalties: The Annihilation of your people

The penalties aspect of the quest gave me pause, and I could see in the eyes of my companions that the effect on them had been the same. But I pushed it out of the way, determined that we move forward.

“Plans in place, then. We’ll move out in the morning. Orcs are better at seeing in the night, mostly, so I’d like to hit those tents by noon. Anyone got anything they need to do before we head out?” Ike asked.

We shook our heads. Heading back to the camp, I saw that the NPCs had constructed a series of palisades at the edges of our camp, lining them to coincide with the start of the slope on all sides. I nodded and smiled at them. They were going to be very helpful in the months to come. I walked to my tent and lay down inside, closing my eyes and drifting off to the realm of dreams.