Survive on Coroleya - Decide Your Fate Game

Intermission

After travelling for weeks beneath surface of the Open Plains, Gregor finally emerged back into the golden light of day, gulping down fresh air like he'd been drowning in a river. Thanking, who'ever was watching out for him for keeping him alive yet again. Delirious with happiness, he stared up into the pale blue sky drinking in its beauty, intoxicated by the scent of the nearby woods and the sounds of birds fluttering through the air chirping. Closing his eyes he let the breeze wash over his skin, and felt the Suns kiss his face as they blazed across the skies above him, and let out a heavy breath of relief. Here he was at last. Borathas, Homeland of the Dwarves. Feeling the tension easing from his body, he slowly opened his eyes and viewed the glorious vista before. Craggy Mountains the size of titans looming up out from the ground like guardians to surround a wide open space that stretched for miles, filled with Dwarves busily constructing trenches, siege weaponry and camps. All the while thousands of Dwarves in black plated armour trained in the open field, testing their new weapons against each other. Most Dwarven Elites train out in the Sunlight to mentally strengthen their resolve for battle on the surface.

Further back, at the far end of the camp, built into side of the Mountain is the great fortress of Stonefold, white stone walls towering high into the sky. Thick round Bastions flying the various colours of the Dwarven nobility that had settled within the fortress and statues of their kings erected to either side of the massive slate grey gates, similar to the one he'd seen in Ironfield. As his eyes scanned the uneven terrain before him, he couldn't help, but notice hundreds of Wardemons parked outside the walls of the fortress. Tall imposing mechanical war machines shaped to resemble the likeness of Dwarves, made from bronze, with spinning blade for arms were formed up facing the Stronghold; like they were guarding the Dwarven Camps rather than the actual fortress itself.

Not sure what to make of all these battle preparations. He took one last look at the imposing Stronghold, before heading down towards the wooden bridge guarded by two short, stout Dwarves in full Obsidian plate armour that concealed their whole body, except for their black beards.

"What be yer business ere'?" asked the muffled Dwarven voice from behind his helmet. Presenting a charming smile that could win most people over he replied, "I'm here to speak with the Dwarven Lord Bolger about work clearing out the mines." The second Dwarf cleaning out bugs caught in his beard, let out a short sharp laugh. "I'm afraid yer abit late for that laddie. Bolger is dead. An Stonefold has been taken."Gregor's eyes widened in surprise. The Dwarven Stronghold has been taken? But how? It would take an army to take a fortress like that, and even then it would take more than a few years before it fell. The Dwarf as if hearing his internal thoughts continued, "Word from the stronghold, is that there be a powerful demon lurking abouts the fortress, hunting down our kin." A demon! Well shit, that does it; it's time to get out of here. Gregor turned to leave, when the next words from the Dwarf's mouth stopped him in his tracks. "Lord Darein, Bolger's son, is offering a bounty of a two thousand gold pieces for the blasted beast's head."

Eye glinting at the mention of gold, Gregor licked his lips hungrily. Two thousand gold pieces, that's more gold than he'd seen in a long while for a demon contract. Not to mention all the unguarded valuables he'd find  inside the stronghold. The Dwarf seeing his renewed interest let out a snort of amusement at his obvious gold lust, and pointed towards a large black tent set up in the middle of the field;not far from here. "Head over to the black tent yonder, and sign up with one of merc companies heading into the Stronghold. I'm sure they could use another sword arm." Half grinning, Gregor nodded his head in thanks to the Dwarves for their wise advice, and swiftly crossed over to the other side of the small bridge. Heading deeper into the bustling camp, which smelled of piss, shit and cooking meat. All the while his mind racing with all the possibilities this gold would bring him.

The noise of army life soon came crashing down upon him. Dwarves bellowing orders, warriors beating each other up with the practice war hammers and the banging of battlesmiths sharpening weapons. Drudging up memories of another Dwarven Lord he had served under, who had sought revenge against some rebellious upstart. A tale with a sad ending. Shaking his head to rid himself of the dark memory. He neared the black tent at the center of camp, where mercenaries of all kinds lounged around outside the faded black tent, along with long lines of slaves chained up in rows. Their haggard faces and wasted bodies drooping with exhaustion and hunger; eyes staring staring far off into the distance without seeing. But he had no room for pity in his heart, a mercenaries life, meant sometimes ignoring the evil in the world and focusing on himself, which often meant blocking his conscience. Still, he didn't think he would ever get used to the sight of slaves chained up like animals; treated worse than the beasts that stalk the night.

Passing in between their miserable ranks, he entered the black tent, and saw a bold headed Redling in full plate armour sitting at a desk staring at a map. His grey eyebrows furrowed in worry. Hearing him come in, the Redling looked up at him with hazel green eyes,and studied his movements. "You here to fight?"he asked in a gruff voice that was used to shouting out orders. Gregor nodded his head. The Redling leaned back in his wooden seat. "Good, I could use some decent fighters. By the looks of you, I'd say you've had some experience fighting. You ever lead men into battle?" Unsure, where this was going, Gregor nodded his head again. The mercenary captain stood up and smiled. "Glad to hear it, I need someone to take command of the Bronze Company. Gregor stared at the man incredulously, unable to believe what he just heard. "Sir, I think I may have misheard you." The Redling moved towards him to clap a hand on his shoulder. "You heard me fine. Truth is I need someone like you. Tough and smart. That lot out there, are dumber than gobs with no brains. You however, I can tell you've been in more than in few scrapes in your lifetime. So what'd do you say? You in? There'll be more gold pieces in it for you."

Gregor still not really believing, what had just happened, dumbly nodded his head in acceptance. Captain of his own company... who would have thought...