Erwen began to feel the effects of a sugar rush as he chewed on the rock candy tube that Siegfried had given him. Siegfried turned to Varien, who was sizing up his potential opponents in the room – the growling Yazga, the glaring Aunty Jurrg, and the two hulking orc warlords standing opposite the blood-smeared sacrificial map table. “Varien, why don’t you go assist our boys who are fighting in the forest whilst Rulgar here brings Bob and I up to speed on the tactical situation?” As he did so, he subtly cast hex on his brother. No one in the room was any the wiser, except perhaps Bob, who naturally suspected such activity from Siegfried. Without averting his steely-eyed gaze from the warlords, Varien nodded slowly. He leaned towards Siegfried. “Don’t do anything I might have to bail you out of later,” he whispered. “Hey, Bob’s supervising here,” Siegfried whispered back. Varien turned to Bob and shot him an “I’m watching you” expression, which Bob shot right back. “From one High Priest to another, right? Try to keep the situation under control.” He smiled and then hefted Fiendsbane and shield, departing the command yurt in search of the Dragon Revengers. “I told Captain Ezykes to hold his ground,” the paladin said to Fiendsbane. “Until we get there.” Aw yiss, Fiendsbane hissed. It’s time to Ashmadai another day.” Back in the command yurt, the Ettin Axe whispered to Siegfried. Now, we are getting somewhere, Krypt said in a low, commanding voice. Your choice of company has improved, Siegfried. Siegfried put his hand on Rulgar’s shoulders. “Now, while the human gets busy saving his humans, why don’t you catch me up to what you’ve been doing with the Ashmadai in these woods?” Rulgar shifted uncomfortably as an uncharacteristic nervousness overtook him. “Yes, uh, well, I am of course holding up my end of our agreement, brother, to harass and drive the Ashmadai out of Neverwinter Wood and reduce them as a belligerent force working against Neverwinter.” He leaned over to point to a quadrant of the bloodstained map stretched out on the camp table. “We collected ourselves after the earlier, well, unpleasantness in the depths of Tholl Sla-Houk, and marched into the Wood in order to flush out the game. And they wither and bleed before us.” “I would hear from your companions, brother,” Siegfried clapped his brother on the shoulder encouragingly as he secretly planted a hexblade’s curse on Rulgar, and regarded Yazga, Kursk One-Tusk, Hyrkzag Dragonskull, and Aunty Jurrg. “How has the horde fared on the rat-hunt in these woods?” Siegfried asked the quartet. Rulgar’s advisors looked uneasy at this interloper’s appearance and questions. It was apparent to Siegfried that Yazga had a strong emotional connection to Rulgar and was going to back his play no matter what it might be. Aunty Jurrg, on the other hand, gave a more careful response that highlighted Rulgar’s strategic prowess. Siegfried realized that Rulgar was Aunty Jurrg’s special project – she had clearly invested quite a bit in his success as his shaman and advisor and was strong in her belief that Rulgar had the blessings of Gruumsh in his endeavours. Kursk One-Tusk’s disposition was loyal, and he was as bloodthirsty an orc chieftain as ever there was, his clan of Sixblade Orcs infamous in their brutality. He relished the swath of destruction his warriors were carving across Neverwinter Wood. As long as there was violence, he’d be satisfied. Hyrkzag Dragonskull, the leader of the Severed Eye warband, gave Siegfried a very different impression. His features were distinguished by the scarification over his empty eye socket applied ritualistically by a red-hot blade, a signature look of the Severed Eye. He was cagey with his words and praise of Rulgar, and Siegfried, reading between the lies, realized that Hyrkzag was on this war council waiting for his opportunity to betray Rulgar. He was effusive in his praise of Rulgar’s prowess but to Siegfried he was laying it on just a little too thick. His darting eyes told a different story. While Siegfried was interviewing the war council, Bob sighed quietly to himself and subtly cast hold monster on Rulgar, executing a plan that he and Siegfried had hatched some time ago. Rulgar interrupted the conversation with a stuttering, almost servile explanation about the horde’s more excessive campaigning within Neverwinter Wood. He frowned as he tried to step towards the table and point at the map but found he could not. “Uh huh, uh huh,” Siegfried replied. “Very good, brother.” Siegfried smiled and reached a hand up to caress Rulgar’s prominent jawline. “But you have outlived your usefulness,” he said. Rulgar sagged suddenly, weakened, as Siegfried summoned all his shadowy strengths and struck his brother with a dozen eldritch blasts . And blast he did, disintegrating Rulgar, stripping flesh from bone, from skeleton to empty armour and clothing that collapsed to the ground, leaving Siegfried holding his brother’s steaming skull, its mouth agape in the final “what?” that barely had time to escape Rulgar’s lips before his annihilation. Yazga and Aunty Jurrg were too shocked to react. Skull in hand, Siegfried leisurely sat in Rulgar’s empty chair and laid the Ettin Axe of Uruth across his knees. At this moment, every open flame, lit torch, and light source flared menacingly, sending screeching shadows across the flayed-skin expanse of the yurt’s roof and walls. The greatest shadow looked like the silhouette of a hysterically weeping crone, head in her hands, shrieking and wailing in grief and rage. “Oh, silence yourself, woman!” Siegfried bellowed, his voice echoing in the tent. “You would never have been made queen on this mortal plane and this loss was of your own making! YOU BACKED THE WRONG SON! Now show up or shut up!” The flamed blazed forth and then receded impotently as the banshee-like wail echoed throughout the forest in the grieving throes of motherhood. There was a rush of wind as though the shadowy force was gathering her strength. Erwen wielded the heartwood relic to extinguish all flames within sight. Siegfied settled back in the chair and put his feet up on the table. “Hyrkzag, what are your thoughts on this campaign? I would hear them.” He tossed Rulgar’s skull to the orc warchief. Hyrkzag threw back his head and laughed uproariously, utterly pleased with this turn of events. If the Ettin Axe of Uruth could applaud, it would. “Now that’s how you take command of a situation,” both voices boomed and whispered in unison. We had no patience for diplomacy.” Yazga screamed, snapping out of her stupor and wielding her bladed gauntlet in desperate malice as she hurled herself at her lover’s assassin. Erwen stepped up past Siegfried. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself. I am Archdruid Erwen Pitsa, ruler of all living things in Faerun. Now that you’ve met Siegfried, the true and only brother, now let me introduce you to a storm of fire – one for Kursk One-Nut, one for Aunty Jerk, and one for Hurts Dragging Deez Nutz,” He pulled out the heartwood relic and cast firestorm. Astride the Arcetalos, Varien was ascending into the sky when a bright light flared behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see a mushroom cloud expanding over the space where Rulgar’s yurt had stood. “Oh, boy,” he muttered to himself. Yazga’s scream of rage turned into a scream of agony as she was incinerated into a cinder, her scream cut off by the sudden lack of oxygen in her lungs. “Hyrkzag, duck!” Siegfried called out. Hyrkzag managed to get behind cover as the flames washed over him, burning an orc sentry and Hand of Gruumsh to death in an instant. Aunty Jurrg dropped to the ground and desperately tried to extinguish the flames. Kursk One-Tusk howled in rage as the flames scorched him, but he withstood the worst of the onslaught. Hyrkzag got to his feet, still chuckling. “Fair is fair, little man.” He patted out some smoking cinders. Siegfried walked through the flames and grabbed Aunty Jurrg by the jaw, dragging her across the burning floor. “So, Aunty Jurrg, am I to presume you were an acolyte or servant of my mother? Now would be a good time to start begging for your life.” Jurrg hacked and coughed. “Give me a reason to keep you alive,” Siegfried growled, “as my imagination wanes.” Jurrg spat a black wad of ash to one side. “I served he who would rebuild Uruth Ukrypt to its former glory. Is that you?” “Small. Disappointing.” Siegfried said. “The glory of Uruth Ukrypt pales in comparison to what I shall build, and if that is all you can imagine, I see no reason to keep you alive.” “My dreams came from the Cave Mother and from Gruumsh Himself!” Aunty Jurrg protested. Siegfried’s lips curled in scorn. “Gruumsh? Gruumsh? My dreams are greater than Gruumsh could ever conceive! Gruumsh jailed and shackled us with his incontinence because he could not handle an insult from an elf. He teaches us to be weak as he is, to make the same mistakes as he always loses, which is why Uruth Ukrypt was the greatest his servants could ever achieve. If you continue listening to that dull, unlearned, impatient coward of a god, then I shall break you on my way to break him.” Siegfried turned to the two smouldering warchiefs. “What I achieve, I achieve by thinking for myself, not thinking as Gruumsh thinks, the only dreams I need are the ones I make with my own hands, with my own steel, and you will either be tempered in the crucible or burned to ashes in my wake.” Erwen stepped through the flames. “You should be a motivational speaker!” he exclaimed. “Have some more candy!” Siegfried said. He turned back to the cave witch. “Gruumsh fails Gruumsh’s own ideals – he tells his followers to gouge out their own eyes in order to make them as weak as he is. If all you can do is follow his limited vision of what orcs could be, then I don’t need you.” “Limited vision!” Erwen repeated with a chuckle. “You know, because he has one eye!” Aunty Jurrg shakily bent the knee. “H-help me to dream bigger, Siegfried!” Suddenly there was a cracking sound and Aunty Jurrg’s head tilted at an unnatural angle, her neck snapping. She immediately went limp. “Oh,” Siegfried said. There was a rumbling all around the yurt and a voice boomed. “LIMITED VISION, EH?” Siegfried stood his ground. “I’ll give you a chance to correct me, One Eye. Your followers have been found wanting. If you’re willing to defend yourself, I’m willing to listen.” “I DESPISE WEAKNESS ALMOST AS MUCH AS I DESPISE IMPUDENCE,” the voice thundered. “THE WEAKNESS AND IMPUDENCE OF ONE SO WILLING TO CAST ASIDE THEIR FAITH AT THE FIRST CHALLENGE.” Siegfried wagered that this scorn was being directly largely at Aunty Jurrg’s twisted corpse. "She did break rather quickly,” Siegfried admitted. “AND YOU, YOU I HAVE WATCHED, YOU I HAVE HEARD. YOU TALK A GOOD GAME, SIEGFRIED. IS THAT ALL IT IS TO YOU?” “My conquest is mine,” Siegfried replied. “Be it at dagger in the back or an axe to the face. My ascension is strength, and is a strength that you have failed to explain to your followers.” “And he has mommy issues!” Erwen hooted. “I have a healthy relationship with my mother,” Siegfried said. “As for that witch that birthed me, she is also under control. And as for you Gruumsh, it remains to be seen whether you will be left behind, or if you have the strength to adapt.” “IS THAT A CHALLENGE?” Gruumsh thundered back. “Why not?” Siegfried replied. “What’s the worst you could do, kill me and cast me down to the Hells? You know I would flourish there. I’d be kicking down your door in a thousand years.” “YOU SPEAK AS THOUGH YOUR SOUL IS NOT ALREADY FORFEIT. YOU FORGET I’VE BEEN WATCHING.” “I’m sure you’ve been keeping a good eye,” Siegfried said. “Tell me what you want, old man.” “I’LL DO BETTER THAN TELL YOU,” Gruumsh’s voice echoed. At once all flames were extinguished and the world began to fade to blue.