Written by Overlord: Turn 3

Written 1 year ago 29th September 2020

The sun was just emerging over the distant mountains as Lady Idril stepped out onto the balcony of the ducal residence, high atop Fort Adamant. She stretched awkwardly after another uncomfortable night in these primitive chambers, yet they would have to do for now.

Idril surveyed the open fields stretching away from the Fort, still littered with Abyssal Dwarf and Orc corpses. After their humbling at Jarnrgrad Deep the dwarfs had regathered their strength and sent a much larger army to seek vengeance in open battle. They had regretted it. The Orcs at least had the sense to head northwards in search of easier pickings and were unlikely to be encountered again.

A gust of wind and the sound of powerfully beating wings drew Idril’s attention skywards and she turned her gaze up towards the great owl Muninn as he descended and perched on the spire above. Lady Morwen alighted, landing deftly beside Idril. Her brow was furrowed.

“I take it that your foray proved unsuccessful, sister?” Idril spoke concernedly.

“Regrettably yes. We had hoped to circle behind the ogre pirates that have been rampaging across the western plains and surprise them from the rear. However, it appears that the Northmen have already regrouped and retaken Ostvangr, driving the remaining ogres all the way back to Thule, inadvertently strengthening their encampment there. We did not have the numbers to overcome this bolstered force, and there was no sense in prolonging a bloody stalemate. I did at least have the pleasure of personally slaying that irksome goblin and his lizard.

We must make another attempt and I have returned to gather more troops. The ogres are the strongest force in the north besides ourselves and the closest to reaching the Comet. It is vital that we liberate Thule and place a garrison between these savages and their ships. Short of supplies and with no line of retreat, even if they do beat us to the source of the Comet’s power, they should be unable to escape with the prize.”

The sharp blast of a hunting horn interrupted the discussion and both spirit weavers stepped to the edge of the balcony. At this altitude the banners of the Black Order could clearly be made out in the distance, and the morning sunlight glinted off the vast array of naked steel approaching the citadel.

Idril turned to Morwen. “It seems we must attend to a more pressing matter first, sister. I shall ready our forces.”