The Slave Knight Part 1: The Dagon

Chapter Twenty-One: The Fuhrer and the Ent Speaker

They walked far and wide. Following closely behind Yordhan and the newly quiet C, who Yordhan cared not to cajole into more talking. Yordhan was content to have the attention of Sir Winifred. Sir Winifred inquired more about their whats and wheres, namely what were they doing out and about in the forest (foraging for food and hunting mostly), where did they see the high elves (ten miles back, but probably further given that the ents do not like high elves and probably will keep them in the maze of their forest for as long as they can), where exactly are you bringing us (to the Fuhrer and the Ent speaker).

It was quite a long ways toward their destination, yet when they happened upon it, it was a pretty intense sight, or hearing for that matter. Yells of battle and crashing had emerged from the thickets of forest brush and bramble beyond. Clashes of weapons, the smack of flesh on flesh, the crunch of armor being broken, it was unmistakable, yet in spite of all the clamour, Yordhan and C continued to walk at their brisk pace. Toward the fighting.

"And where in God's name are you bringing us two!?" Sir Jabberjaw yelled, being distrustful as ever, as he unsheathed his axe and pointed it at Yordhan, threateningly. "An ambush that has gone awry it seems!? You bloody piece of shit! Who do you think you are!?"

"Yordhan." Yordhan said without emotion or inflection. He continued to walk toward the rabble and beckoned the slave knights to follow.

"It's an ambush Wendy, you can hear it and so can I. God's balls! The she bitches in the Milf can hear it. We are not walking into there, unarmed and unready to fight." Sir Jabberjaw's excitement got the best of him. He was ready to pounce and ready to hurt. Ready to press forward and end this charade of niceties between Sir Winifred and Yordhan.

"Tis only the Fuhrer and the Ent Speaker at their drunken games, yet again." Yordhan said calmingly, "they got deep into their ale once again and are just trying to match brustle and brawn. Nothing to worry about, nothing at all. Let us just go yonder."

C rushed forward and spat out angrily said frustratingly, "I have not seen my beloved in too long. I cannot stand this walking with this acrid heap of slave knights without her any longer." C rushed forward abandoning his captors and calling unto the Fuhrer and Ent Speaker loudly. It was a language none could grasp, but the words that were yelled about were made in a friendly tone and were met with a friendlier laugh and seemingly jaunty response. The fighting stopped and Yordhan moved forward as well through the thicket. More words were exchanged and then a loud voice to their understanding bellowed out.

"Come, knights that are slaves. Come into our camp and enjoy our feast, our fire, and our fellowship." It was a loud and deep voice. Very heroic and vibrant, with much joy and a slight slurring. Sir Winifred walked forward tentatively, and Sir Jabberjaw thought to grab at her to bring her away from the impending danger, but then thought better of it. She would resent him for that and thinking she was anything less than capable. It would question her own authority toward the Wenches. To both warbands she was forced to head. He let her do and be her. Sir Jabberjaw followed closely, while the remaining slave knights inched into the encampment, one by one, until the lion's share of them had emassed themselves within. The others stayed behind to corral the horses together and make sure none ran off.

"Ahhhhh, many knights. Good strong knights before me. Do you agree Bogargz?" The man he looked toward nodded his head quietly, and said few words.

"They slaves though," A slight rumbling in the earth and the slave knights seemed to confirm the words, but none thought ill of it and let it go. The first gigantic man barked out a laugh at that and patted the one called Bogargz on his shoulder as they sat down to drink more ale. They were two of the most gigantic men they had seen, aside from Sir Jonus. The one that spoke first, was more than a half a head taller than Sir Jonus. He wore a massive cloak of grizzly bear fur, with a hood that encompassed the maw and face of said grizzly bear. The armor he wore beneath was also consumed by the same fur. Sir Winifred assumed, rightly so, that the boiled leather beneath as well. Claws from the grizzly bear adorned his gloves, but they looked far from decorative as they tipped each end of each finger of this massive man and his massive hands. The man had no beard to speak of, but instead sported a white face and striking blue eyes. Atop his head was a mop of dirty blonde hair. He smiled great and wide as he gulped down a horn of ale with his massive pair of hands and even bigger arms to match. Surely, he was shorn with thick muscle, even though nothing below his raiment could be seen.