"Brulk!"
Brulk nipped his ear too hard, the familiar notch on his lob started to swell. "By the dead.." He grumbled. "What is it Gremk?"
"Dunlang wants to see you, couple o' his lads coming over to fetch you."
Gremk might've been a coward, but he wasn't a liar. Two big lads came over, one armed with a longbow and the other with a brutish looking sword. "Dunlang wants you." grumbled the bowman, his voice coarse as the dirt itself. "Right y'are." he nodded, casting a brief frown over Gremk. Khelem Dur stepped forward, but the swordsman did the same. "Dunlang didn't ask for you." He stated, with the same acid-touched tone. His dirty hand out stretched to Khelem. Looked as though the bastard slept beneath the swamps 'em selves. Those are the times, reckoned Brulk. "No issue, Khelem. Keep an eye on the crew, eh?" The big man nodded, taking a step back from the swordsman's reach. "Luck, Brulk." He said, giving him a pointed nod. "Aye." grumbled Brulk, stepping on ahead as the bowman followed him towards Dunlang's reed house.
"Edan?" came Khelem's voice, though fainter as Brulk stepped away. Only half paying attention, his thoughts on both Dunlang and the freshly disturbed corpse of Kust. "By the dead, I saw you and Eslyd hacked down by The Last Bridge almost a year back.." but the voice grew faint.
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Dunlang was slumped over in his chair. What passed for sculptured wood carved into either side showing the heads of great beasts. Brulk hadn't the imagination to settle on what they was suppose to be mind. Wolves heads, maybe. Perhaps a Warg. One carving he did recognise was that sitting on Dunlang's face. "You got some idea o' how I ought be running things, eh?"
Brulk felt his hand rise, going for his ear, but resisted and instead just shrugged his broad shoulders. "Can't say I go for digging up old faces, Chief." Dunlang shoved himself to his feet, pounding down the few feet between them until they stood eye to eye. Well, Eye to chin. Dunlang's heavy gaze beaming down on him. "That so?" He nodded, even if he didn't rightly feel like doing so. "That's the wrong idea." He grunted, bringing up his hands and clutching at Brulk's elbow's. "You don't even know the half o' it, but I'll bring us victory over these Eglain scum." Brulk recognised the tone, one he'd use when he was trying to convince his crew to go along with a bad idea while trying to convince himself at the same time. "Whats the right idea?" asked Brulk, to which his got only a harder stare. "Whatever I fuckin' say it is." barked Dunlang, angered by his own insecurities.
"Now, now.." Came a womans voice from behind, in the far corner of the room. She was about Brulk's height, but half as wide. The shadow's of the reeds played havok with his vision, but he could have sworn her skin was blue in colour. He squinted harder, and regretted it as she emerged from the shadows. "Your Chief acts for the good of you all, Creoth. He acts on the command of a higher will than his own, on that of the Red Maid.." She slid forward like a viper on a mouse, an expression on her face Brulk would've thought pleasurable if it was under a different circumstance. "Through action, he gains favour.. Through favour, he gains power.." She smiled a deathly smile, and Brulk's ear lobe burned. "And what power does the Creoth require, my child?" She asked. "Uh.." stuttered Brulk. "That's correct. Those with a will to fight, and the skill to do so..." Her waif-like arm stretched backwards, and into the room walked a familiar face. Kust.
"By the dead.." He felt himself utter, barely able to break his eyes away from Kust's. Blank, dead eyes peeking out of a hollow face. Funny thing Brulk found, atleast under the circumstances, was the axe wound still in Kust's forehead. Most of thing left side was missing. Temair could bring a man back from the dirt, but couldnt repair a couple inch o' skin. Those are the times.
"We're heading for a fight, Brulk." Dunlang had been speaking longer, but the sight of Kust's lumbering body had taken over much of Brulk's thought. He still stood there, standing awkwardly like a man still half asleep. Temair had retreated to her corner of the room, the shadows wrapped over her like a blanket, but he could still feel those eyes of hers trailing over his face. His ear lobe burnt something rotten.
"Couple o' scouts claim Eglain have been massing on the borders of Barad Dhorn. More of 'em than been seen this side o' the season."
"Sellswords and mercenary too, as the Maiden promised." Cut in Temair's icy tones. "But she too provides, for you have served well. More warriors flock back to you by the day." More unlucky bastards back from the dirt, thought Brulk. His face was sour, like he'd eaten a grape only to find it was the droppings of a lurker from the deep bogs. He felt himself shrug, though he didn't much feel like it. "You're the chief." Muttered Brulk. "Thats fuckin' right." Snarled Dunlang. "You're crew" the words slithered from Temairs lips "How many do you have, my warrior?"
Brulk grimaced once again. "Seven." Five short of a proper crew, atleast by Khelem's mind. Temair padded her bare feet across the reed flooring, and rested across Dunlang's shoulders. She spoke quiet, her mouth full of smiles and words, Brulk reckoned, full of poison.
"Weapons?"
"Weapons."
