Looking at the two fallen royal guardsmen, Willow ran over to them to check and see if they were still alive. One of them was dead yet the other was barely clinging to life. The Prince turned to his sister-in-law, "Get the Cleric! NOW!"

"Willow," The elementalist opened her eyes leaning against the stone wall, "He's right here."

Lazheros went over to the fallen guards and healed the one he could save. Sadly though, the other guard was gone, "He has gone to join his ancestors, Prince Willow. The other will be fine after some rest, and for that creature, I have seen this before and only once. She may of been an elf once but when her mind is broken, there's only instinct and blind rage. There is a being capable of bringing out the evil in a soul, and he is very good at it. A half orc Brujah-warlock who specializes in creating Meat puppets, and if I miss my guess, he's the one behind this."

War Scribe merely looked on and did what she always did--record all that she saw in her tome.

"Who is this half Orc Warlock?" The Prince clenched his fist in anger, "What is its name? I want to know who this creature is before I run him through!"

The bronze man narrowed his eyes for a moment, "Barakas is his name and unlike Gruumasht, who is easy to spot on the battle field, this half orc prefers to remain hidden. There was a terrible rumor years ago that he made a pact with the Shadow Realm. The Hells aren't much different, however, at least you see what your facing before you die, or am I wrong Chronicler?"

"You are absolutely correct," War Scribe replied looking up from her work, "Barakas made a pact with Shar, Mistress of the Night and Lady of Loss, to be precise. The Half-Orc literally sold his soul to her in exchange for the power to create Meat Puppets." The Drowling wistfully continued, "Personally, I think she got the better end of the deal. He wasn't REALLY asking for much and Shar was WAY TOO eager to stake a claim on his soul. Hell, she probably thought it was a good down payment for all of the misery she knew he would cause in The Realm."

******

Caliaphy waved her hand back and forth, "P.U! You stink! You need a bath!"

Irzen sniffed himself and smiled at the Fairy, "Usstan qua'l"

++++Drow to Common Translation "I agree."

Then the Dark Elf walked towards the ramparts to find Prince Willow and Princess Liliandra with the head of Ashuruk still clutched in his hands.

The Swordsman came into a new scene of carnage normally saved for the battle field with one very disturbing and vicious and very dead hand maiden.

Irzen saw Princess Liliandra, proudly approached the Elven ruler, dropped to one knee before her and offered up the head of Ashuruk, "Usstan belbau dos l'karliik d'dosst ogglin! Uk ssuule nau mzild! Dosst hosse f'rear victa! Westfall victa!"

+++Drow to Common Translation: "Behold the head of your enemy! He breathes no more! Your army stands triumphant! Westfall victorious!"

Liliandra stared at the Swordsman, "Get that thing out of here at once! We do not celebrate our victories by carrying the head of an enemy around for all to see!"

"Ah, Scribe, translation please before things get worse." The elementalist asked the drowling.

"WOW! It's been a long time since I've seen him stuck in Irzen mode," War Scribe cooed, "This should be fun! But, first, a translation."

Both Lazheros and Alyson grumbled.

The Drowling turned towards The Princess, "Your Majesty, Lord Irzen means you no harm. For the moment, he can only speak in the Drow tongue and these are the words he just said, 'Behold the head of your enemy! He breathes no more! Your army stands triumphant! Westfall victorious!'"

"We understood that part," Alyson leaned forward a bit, "you know with the head case there."

"Now, I'll tell him exactly what you said," War Scribe turned towards Irzen and spoke eloquently in the Drow tongue, "Inbau nindel klez doeb d'ghil a h'uena! Udos xun naut celebrate udossta victas a kurross l'karliik d'biu ogglin bauth whol jal ulu kyorl."

Irzen rose to his feet and without a moment's hesitation tossed the head of the fallen Orc up and over the rampart to the ground beyond the castle walls, "Evagna uns'aa, Qu'essan, Usstan zhaun naut l'liaden d'dosst lodias. Usstan jaklu'zin lac ulu bel'la udossta ultrinnan nindol tangi."

"Lord Irzen says--" War Scribe began before Irzen cut her off.

"Venta'kyorl Irzen!" The Drow insisted, "Udos ph'a thalack."

"--Captain Irzen says," The Drowling corrected herself, "He insists on me referring to him by his military rank because we are at war. Anyhoo, Captain Irzen says 'Forgive me, Princess Liliandra, I know not the customs of your people. I merely seek to honor our victory this day.'"

The princess looked at Willow, "He's your ally, this is your call but I'd prefer not to have that thing anywhere near our people living and dead."

"Is there anything you would like to say to him other than the fact he needs a bath?" War Scribe hunched her shoulders.

"I will help Alyson to the guest quarters for now and return to help with any healing that is required," Lazheros told Willow and Liliandra as he turned and picked up the elementalist again.

Down by the stables, the kurori shouted, "THE SWORDSMAN NEEDS A BATTTTTTTTTTHHHH!!!"

"Usstan zhaun, Usstan zhaun!" The Swordsman threw his hands up in the air and began to walk off.

++++Drow to Common Translation "I know, I know."++++

However, as he turned to leave, War Scribe seized Captain Irzen by his hand, "Whoa! Where do you think you're going, big guy? There is no way in the Hells you're going stomping up and down this palace stinking the place up covered in Orc blood and guts. You're going to the baths straightaway!"

The Chronicler turned back to the Princess and the Prince, "I'll be back in a minute once I've dropped him off in the baths."

In the blink of an eye, War Scribe and Irzen teleported away.

"Lili, you referred to Captain Irzen as a 'thing', Willow responded calmly, "This 'thing' as you call him may very well hold the key to our victory. But if you don't believe me as it pertains to Captain Irzen's mettle, why not trust the words of one of your own soldiers."

"I was referring to the head of the orc, Willow, not your friend as you call him. Forgive me but I am not comfortable enough to call him friend yet," Liliandra crossed her arms.

"Fair enough," Willow agreed, "Think of him as an ally then but please give him the opportunity to earn your friendship."

The Prince turned to Captain Andaerean who was walking by, "Captain Andaerean, can I have a moment of your time? Let me ask you this question and please speak honestly: How did the Drow acquit himself on the battlefield? Do you believe him to be a friend or a foe of our people?"

Captain Andaerean had finished stabling the horses when he was approached by the ranger, "The drow was exceptional on the battlefield, and had prior knowledge of the orc before engaging the thing to the death. I respect him as a battlefield officer and value his insight when dealing with an enemy on this scale. One soldier to another."

"Thank you, Captain," The Prince turned back to the Princess, "Lili, our list of allies is thin! We may need the help of many whom we do not call friend to win this war. Irzen and the rest of my friends did not come to our aid for gold nor glory nor fame. They came because I asked them to come. They came because they knew I would do no less for them if their lands were in jeopardy. We are beggars in this war, Lili, we cannot be too choosy about those whom we call friend if they are willing to fight with us."

War Scribe reappeared with a smile, "Well, I dumped Irzen in the palace baths where he is scrubbing himself free of the smell of dead Orc. So he should be good to go in an hour or two."

Then the Chronicler sighed at Princess Liliandra, closed her eyes and opened her arms, "Okay, if you're going to run me through or throw me off the parapet or blast me into oblivion or lop off my head for deceiving you, then I guess you better get started. I am at your mercy, Princess, do your worst."