now, hard and relentlessly, you will utterly destroy all remnants of Nesme and any foothold the humans can dare hope to hold in your lands."
"King Obould wants us in the tunnels," one of Proffit's heads replied.
"Now!" the other head emphatically added.
"To help with Obould's victory in the north?" Kaer'lic said. "In lands that mean nothing to Proffit and his people?"
"Obould helped us," Proffit said.
"Obould showed Proffit the way out, with all the trolls behind him," the other head added.
Kaer'lic knew well enough what Proffit was referring to. It had been none other than Donnia Soldou, in fact, who had orchestrated the rise of Proffit, through the proxies of King Obould. All that Donnia had hoped was that Proffit and his force of brutish trolls would cause enough of a distraction closer to the major human settlements to keep the bigger players of the region, primarily Lady Alustriel of Silverymoon, from turning her eyes and her formidable armies upon Obould.
Of course at that time, Kaer'lic and the other dark elves had no idea of how fast or how high King Obould would rise. The game had changed.
"And Proffit helped Obould close the back door of Mithral Hall," Kaer'lic reminded.
"Tit," said one head.
"For tat," the other added with a rumbling chuckle.
"But dwarves are left," said the first.
"To," said the other.
"Kill!" they both shouted together.
"Dwarves of Mithral Hall to kill, yes," agreed Kaer'lic. "Dwarves who are stuck in a hole and going nowhere. Dwarves who will still be there waiting to be killed when Proffit has done his work here."
The troll's heads looked at each other and nodded in unison.
"But the humans of Nesme are not so trapped," Tos'un Armgo put in, right on cue, as he and Kaer'lic had previously decided and practiced. "They will run far away, out of Proffit's reach. Or they will bring in many, many friends, and when Proffit comes back out of the tunnels, he may find a huge army waiting for him."
"More."
"To."
"Kill!" the troll said, both heads grinning stupidly.
"Or too many to kill," Tos'un argued after a quick, concerned glance at Kaer'lic.
"The human friends of Nesme will bring wizards with great magical fires," Kaer'lic ominously warned.
That took the stupid and eager smile from Proffit's faces.
"What to do?" one head asked.
"Fight them now," said Kaer'lic. "We will help you locate each human band and to position your forces to utterly destroy them. It will not take long, and you can go into the tunnels to fight the dwarves confident that no force will mobilize against you and await your return."
Proffit's two heads bobbed, one chewing its lip, the other holding its mouth open, and both obviously trying to digest the big words and intricate concepts.
"Kill the humans, then kill the dwarves," Kaer'lic said simply. "Then the land is yours. No one will bother to rebuild Nesme if everyone from Nesme is dead."
"Proffit likes that."
"Kill the humans," said the other head.
"Kill the dwarves," the first added.
"Kill them all!" the second head cheered.
"And eat them!" yelled the first.
"Eat them all," Kaer'lic cheered, and she motioned to Tos'un, who added, "Taste good!"
Tos'un offered a shrug back at Kaer'lic, showing her that he really had no idea what to add to the ridiculous conversation. It didn't really matter anyway, because both dark elves realized soon enough that their little ploy had worked, and so very easily.
"I remember when Obould was as readily manipulated as that," Kaer'lic said almost wistfully as she and Tos'un left Proffit's encampment.
Tos'un didn't disagree with the sentiment. Indeed, the world had seemed so much simpler a place not so very long ago.
6. FORWARD THINKING ORC
"All the anger of the day," Tsinka Shinriil said as she ran her fingers over Obould's massive shoulder. "Let it lead you now." Then she bit the orc on the back of his neck and began to wrap her sinewy arms and legs around him.
Feeling the tautness of her muscles against him, Obould was again reminded of the wild pegasus. Amusing images floated through his mind, but he pushed them away as he easily moved the amorous shaman aside, stepping out into the center of his tent.
"It is much more than a stupid creature," he remarked, as much to himself as to Tsinka. He turned to see the shaman staring at him, her bewildered expression so much in contrast to her trembling and naked form.
"The winged horse," Obould explained. Tsinka slumped down on a pile of furs. "More than a horse ... more than the wings ..." He turned away, nodding, and began