~Renalf~
Renalf marched, or rather rode, toward the rear of the Orc's column. They seemed to love moving at a tremendous pace and they never tired. Renalf managed to make a quick adjustment in the saddle without the Orc running beside him noticing. Every other time he tried to move the Orc rewarded him by shoving the butt of his spear into Renalf's back.
The company moved so swiftly that they were able to keep up Renalf's horse who was moving along at a slow trot. Renalf was constantly being bounce up an down so that he could hardly even observe the scenery around him. About all he gathered was that they seemed to pass through an number of Rivera and streams which nearly caused him to freeze.
After traveling for twelve hours without stopping more than thrice the Orcs came to a halt. Renalf hardly bothered to wonder why. He just hoped that they would get out of the rain that had plagued them sporadically for the past hour. The water had, by this time, frozen him to the bone. He would have wrapped his cloak around him, but it would have only made him feel worse.
Renalf contemplated using a spell to draw the water out, but that probably wouldn't go well the the Orcs who probably wanted him to feel miserable so that he wouldn't even think of trying to escape. He couldn't really blame them for that.
He dismounted and was shoved down to the ground by an Orc. He didn't really care. He was nearly numb from being constantly pelted with rain. Soon, he feared, he would catch pneumonia. The band soon began coming back with wood to start a fire, but he doubted they would get anything going.
The head of the band, the Goblin, strode past Renalf purposely stepping on his left hand which was sprawled out haphazardly. Renalf jerked it back in pain and gazed at the Goblin as he strode past haughtily toward the fire. He shouted a few angry, fiendish words in a language Renalf didn't understand. The Orcs seemed to quicken their pace and work harder. Soon a ring of logs was formed, creeping around the ring of stones designating where the fire was to be started.
After a while Renalf lost interest. The dull thudding of the Orcs going to and fro lulled him to sleep. He was soon dozing unconsciously. He was awakened in another hour by an Orc stopping to bend over him and give him a small piece of stale bread and a little bit of Orcish wine. Renalf abstained from the wine which he knew would make him hallucinate, and not in a very pleasant way either, but hungrily ate the bread after he was done eating he opened his mouth and let the rain pass through his parched lips.
For the remainder of the evening he slept feverishly. Renalf knew that he had to be coming down with something. He didn't care as long as he slept without molestation. Soon however he was forced to get up and ride the horse again. He didn't keep awake for long.
The next morning found him drowsily rubbing his eyes in the saddle. He was quite sore, especially in his thighs. He was obligated to drink some of the wine to help the pain. The rest of the day, or possible days (Renalf couldn't tell since everything was a blur), was a blur.
The next thing Renalf remembered was when the column came to a halt. His vision was blurred and he had a bad headache, but soon his eyes widened as he realized that they had company. A party of goblins, he couldn't tell how many strong, was just a few paces away. With them were three strange companions. The first, and largest was a dragonet. Next in side was a cloaked man. Finally there was a can who was just dismounting from the dragonet. It was the strangest thing Renalf had ever seen.
The man looked up as Renalf was forced to dismount and head toward the goblins. "My, my..." a familiar, smooth voice said, "Fancy meeting you here, Renalf." Oh no! Things just got much much worse! The man was none other than Oqrol the Crimson.
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