To believe that man that was now a lapdog to a sorceress was once the great Castor the Brutal would be laughable. No warrior would subject himself to treatment like that. However things were not as they seemed, although he disgraced Grom by accepting the deal to spare his life. That was still something he felt ashamed about the fear of dying that made him weak. However years of service to Deanora had left the man thankful for the moment. Up to that point he had never felt fear before and now he controls it. In a sense Deanora made him a far better warrior.<br/><br/>Of course that alone didn't explain the reason the warrior didn't seek to free himself from his mistress's grip. That reason belonged mostly in the fact that Castor ,or Sigurd as he is known now, was in love with her. He absolutely hated the feeling and despised that it existed in his being but there was no ignoring it. Even as the sorceress pressed that beautiful body against him staring through the helmet into his eyes there was no mistaking the faster beating of his heart. Not that he would ever admit it. From the outside to even Deanora he was playing the servile slave.<br/><br/>Underneath that ever present helmet (http://www.displaystatues.com/images/080049GLSL.jpg) no voice acknowledge his mistress's orders or the necromancer's summons. The warrior was dead quiet as was customary for the man. Steel talked far better then any voice could. Looking through the helmet's eye holes he regarded the motley lot before him. Was this supposed to stop the might of a trained professional army? It was truly laughable almost that the necromancer was so sure of his victory. Men like him think they understand Grom but they are just conceited fools, ignorant of what it means to be a true disciple of Grom. Victory is never assured but he doubted that Streban knew the teachings. As much as he doubted that the man had actually learned under Grom himself. Castor was Grom's fallen protege and he planned to repent with his life blood.<br/><br/>The only person out of the companions around him that stood out was Dawn the Paladin. Her beauty shone like her armor and it caused several things to stir in Castor. Shaded eyes gazed at the woman's form which was so obviously tempered by battle. Strong woman were something of a weakness for the warrior. Those green eyes seemed to a light with a fire that outstripped her undead status. She looked so alive for being dead. That he could give to the necromancer, he did do good work. Everyone else for now registered on a basic tactical level, elf hunter, human tree fucker and ditzy meatshield. They were to topple a kingdom with this lot.<br/><br/>Walking outside with Streban, Castor let Gram slide out of his scabbard with a hiss. Underneath his chain shirt muscles flexed as the excitement of battle washed over the warrior. Seeing the forces that he was supposed to command he could of laughed at the impossibility of the task but that was not the way of a son of Grom. Gathering the few battle ready folks he saw Castor walked to the fortifications that they had to work with. It was sad gate but there was a job to be done so he wasn't going to complain. Giving it a quick look over Castor began ordering his men and woman.<strong>1</strong>Most saw him as a simple brute but under Grom he had become a tactical genius, able to make the best of bad ground. Underneath that full helmet his mind churned and made plans for the siege as he climbed the battlements. A baritone voice drifted over the stone walls as he began to singing a tune,<br/><br/><em>"Hark, I hear the foe advancing<br/>Barbed steeds are proudly prancing<br/>Helmets in the sunbeams glancing<br/>Glitter through the trees.<br/><br/>Men of Harlech, lie ye dreaming<br/>See ye not their falchions gleaming<br/>While their pennons gaily streaming<br/>Flutter in the breeze."</em><br/><br/>Somewhere down the line a man picked up the singing followed by another.<br/><br/><em>From the rocks resounding<br/>Let the war cry sounding<br/>Summon all at Grom's call<br/>The haughty foe surrounding<br/><br/>Men of Harlech, on to glory<br/>See your banner famed in story<br/>Waves these burning words before ye,<br/>"Caede scorns to yield!"</em><br/><br/>Now the entire battlement was a light with singing as they prepared for the incoming forces,<br/><br/><em>Mothers cease your weeping,<br/>Calm may be your sleeping,<br/>You and yours in safety now,<br/>the Harlech men are keeping<br/><br/>Ere the sun is high in heaven,<br/>They you fear, by panic riven,<br/>Shall like frightened sheep be driven<br/>Far by Harlech men"</em><br/><br/><hr/><strong>1.</strong><em>Discern Realities:</em><br/>At 2014-05-11 13:31:57, SGTDan (uid: 37668) rolls: 2d6 Result: 11 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=58227)<br/><em>What here is useful or valuable to me?</em><br/><em>What here is not what it appears to be?</em><br/><em>What should I be on the lookout for?</em>