OH EM GEE

Finally. I should draw a comic of me not doing this for ages. 

D8

Officialy , the Empire never had problens into the naval warfare or any kind of opposition during the war.

Unofficialy , however , more and more commanders designated to land combat , have being operating with responsabilitys beoyond their part of command inside the hiearchy and have being taking part on tasks in handling with naval operations , as the empire navy deteriorate itself with the curse of war , the negotiations going bad with Marienburg and they not affording to return  in being an empire protectorate , the situation of the Imperial navy was not really decent , in fact , dificult to see if anyone was giving any attention to the combats happening in the sea.

Morningsong came difficultly to Hariette, as she felt a sourness in her stomach and a small remaining headache from spending most of the evening before in a tavern.

She had stood there rigidly almost the entire night, as this was perhaps only the second time that she could recall ever being in such a place.  The smell of drink and tobacco was not something she really wanted to get accustomed to.  Nor was the smell of vomit.  That elf certainly had dispelled every single thing she had ever heard about the elder race.

Kneeling now in a row along with the other knights who felt driven to prayer, Hariette bowed her head.

"Ye damned fool, blasted idiot, bloody glory stealin' son of an Orc manlin'!", Ozorhaar screamed madly as his hammer smashed through another Ungor, his fury being played out against the mutant beasts who sought to make a meal of him while he slept.

"Oi, 'ow's that fer ye then?", his rambling continued as his axe took the arm from another attacker on a backswing, the return stroke gutting the creature as it stared at its fresh bloody stump.

"Greatest fight o' me life, a proper doom'n ye snatched it away. Took me doom with ye too!"

Unable to sleep, Clynt Hartigen walked through the Nordland warcamp.  He quietly looked over the tents of the sleeping soldiers who had pledged their loyalty to him not even a week before.  Even when he was an officer in the Imperial military, he was never truly comfortable with command.  While not an old man in any sense of the word, Clynt had seen too many young men and women thrown in the jaws of death needlessly, often following the very order he was given and passed on to those with him.  He sighed as he pondered the morning's coming battle, knowing fully well that many of those resting peacefully would not live to see the following night.  As he walked, his good eye fell upon a small group of warriors he picked up while defending Ekrund two days before. 

I wonder about him.

She rolled over once again in her requisitioned bunk at the temple, pulling the thin blanket over her as the wooden frame creaked, and she hoped that she hadn’t awakened any of the other sleeping knights in the room.

((finished this at home so here it all is))

“Mojdeh, look at this!”  Cassara’s usually reticent attitude towards her bubbly roommate had apparently completely evaporated, and the other girl startled in her seat, book falling to the floor in a heap.  Possessing not a single suspicious bone in her body, however, Mojdeh simply retrieved the book and grinned.

Cassara was, however, at this point too worked up about her discovery to even contemplate whether the vapid Arabyan would even understand what she was showing her.  Carefully she fingered through the pages of the tome she carried, and, finding the correct one, moved over to where her roommate was giggling in anticipation.

Masanair limped some as he walked towards the infirmary with Varsil.  The workout he had just gone through had truly tested how his body was recovering from the hip Varsil had managed to fix.  The hip bones had no issues now, but the muscles and other soft tissues had little time to adjust to his full use of the leg once more.  So now he limped again as the soft tissues screamed about the exercise Varsil had forced him through.

"My office.  Now."  The matron's words were not loud at all but said with a good deal of force not be argued with.

Masanair and Varsil swapped glances wondering who she wanted this time.

"Both of you."  An exasperated sound to the words as if they should have known that.

The chill of morning broke into the dormitory, waking the children before the warden came to rouse them for breakfast. The pitched roof forced what little warmth there had been to the top, and the stone walls radiated cold and damp. That was most mornings. This morning was different. Today a bad smell filled the hall, and the rats had come to investigate. The boy next to Faulkor’s cot had died in the night, his body slumped over and sandwiched between the wall and his tiny bed.