Daramlhoardd’s War

Aferton spent a few seconds scratching his rear end before answering. “Karodem, was not kidnapped, nor was he forced by some dark magic to yield his weapons. He did so of his own free will.”
“By all that’s unholy,” Daramlhoardd shouted, “He must know the truth then. How can such a thing be?”
“It seems,” Aferton, hawked a large green gob and spat it close to the elf lord’s boot. “It seems that your son has been taking many trips out at the Caldor Mountains. He met Galowyn there and spent a great deal of time with her.”
Rage boiled within his hairy breast and almost surfaced before Daramlhoardd was able to rein it in. Getting on the bad side of these mages was the last thing he wanted or needed to do. “Was there any advice on how to conduct the war? What about some strategic battle plan?” As he left the wizards he wondered, “Can I trust these base creatures? Did Karodem surrender or are they lying to me to further their own evil ends?”
“I did not think to ask,” Aferton lied with a straight face. He indeed had asked these questions but he preferred to keep the answers to himself. Besides he was certain that Daramlhoardd would not like them.
“You what,” The roar bounced off of the cold grey stone walls. A hand reached for a gem studded sword hilt.
“I didn’t think to ask,” the voice was defiant and unapologetic.
The mighty army of Daramlhoardd was at last assembled. It had taken three weeks, three weeks of pleading, of cajoling, of threatening.

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