The Sack of Wortbad
The treck from Thalia had been long and the oppressive presence of Khorne's hatred still lingered on Laelanyel. It was time to leave Shyish. Whatever the Harrowmark could offer her was now beyond reach. Except for a few supplies, of course. The simpletons of Wortbad would not care to part with some food, the aelf enchantress thought while pacing above the gate of the Rose & Scythe.
The Caengan banged on the inn door and shutters, but no answer came. Well, so much for niceties. Laelanyel would get was she needed, whether the locals wanted it or not.
A stir in the magical winds blowing over Wortbad brought the unmistakable tang of orruk scum. The Cleavermaws, again. Kind of an annoyance, but they could provide some sport.
Laelanyel saw that Aef-Grimnir thought the same as he ordered his kin forward to grab what they could while taking position to stop the greenskinz' advance. She drifted down from the gate and joined Durbak.
The Cleavermaws fanned out, Mogrum rummaging through a pile of crates and barrels.
Aef-Grimnir and the Kinless planted their feet in centre of the main square, while Engrin moved to secure a stash of food on the edge the village.
The orruks moved onto the square and Tark found himself, once again, on the wrong end of the Cleavermaw ship gun.
The Cleavermaws charged through the heavy black smoke. Durbak jumped between them and his liege, but was quickly taken down.
Laelanyel's shadegheist lingered around a padlocked casket hidden among some empty barrels. Its mistress, in the meantime, turned her attention to the simple minded ogor. It was so easy to turn the brute's fears against him, but still it gave her a subtle shiver of pleasure to see him fall.
Engrin came forward, a throwing axe slamming onto the back of the orruk that had managed to slip past Aef's swinging axe. The aelf joined the Runefather in the brawl.
The Cleavermaw's first mate joined in the fight, bringing more crew members with him. Laelanyel wove a glimmermist shield around her and Aef-Grimnir, fooling the orruks' blows.
Trailing red hot sparks, Aef-Grimnir's axe darted in and out of the mist, leaving only the baffled ship clerk standing.
At a barked order from Mogrum, the Cleavermaws retreated. The Weirdnob was clutching a cloth wrap in his meaty fist. Laelanyel did not pay much attention to that. Even if he had found something of value, chances were that he would not now how to use it.
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