Art elf sword

Calling of the Water Sword

With sword and song

Would hate to waste a good head!

"I don't care what you think that would serve for" the Brethren Knight Cleves said in a stern tone to a bunch of disappointed orc mercenaries. "You are NOT going to take any head -or anything else- that will rot and give away our position miles away only from it's stench and the flies. I don't care if it's for a bounty, trophy, part of your culture. I don't want to see ANY head, ears, hands, fingers or anything else. Are we clear?!"

"But how are we going to get paid?!" protested an Ozcura, waving the freshly cut head of a fallen enemy. 

Cleves sighed. "Just show the treasurer -Brother Dithmar- and he will keep a tally for once we are back in Castle Kreuzfeldt" the warrior-monk said. "And don't take too much loot, either" this generated a wave of protests, as it was part of their benefit. "No complains!" Cleves said. "We are deep in enemy territory, and we still have a long way to go. So we can't get overburdened. Take preference for food, because anything else we will have to carry all the way to the Demonlands and back"

There was general disappointment among the Orcpeliers -the orc mercenaries under service of the Order of the Holy Sword of Nortender-, but they understood the logic behind it.

"I don't know. I would hate to waste a good head!" said Magdalena, as she tossed the head of a vanquished enemy on a burlap sack her sister Hortence was holding. 

"Hello, fellow Orcpeliers!" said another grey orc near them.

They turned around, not recognising her from the garrison of Kreuzfeldt... or any of the other Orcpelier forces that where gathered as auxiliary infantry for this deep raid into the enemy lands, to support the heavy cavalry of the Order and the mounted infantry. But she had the right sort of gear, and a hastily pinned yellow cross of Nortender on her clothes. 

The third ozcura looked quite nervous... as if she had fought in the losing Dark Legion force and quickly slapped the symbol of the Order, rather than try to run or surrender -well knowing that in such a deep raid into the Demonlands, the order couldn't really spare time and manpower with prisoners.

The two sisters looked at each other, knowing well what happened. They knew the order didn't recruited on the battlefield deserters... but they where so far away from the lands of the Order, and in this battle they had already lost several of their comrades... who would tell the knights? Unlike them, they could appreciate an intelligent ozcura with an instinct for survival. 

"Hello... fellow Orcpelier" the twin sisters finally said to the relief of the new recruit. 

Fantasy slaves