Tabithas tale

Tabitha Wolfsbane was standing in the impromptu muster yard - the muddy area in front of Castle Grey. The last thing she could remember was the Angel in all its terrible glory, before waking up in the field hospital mere moments ago, all stiff and confused. People were mostly in good spirits, so the Angel must have been defeated, but none could tell her what had happened to TGDEC. A number of her people were gathered around her all talking at once, trying to bring her up to speed. She just let the sound wash over her while she gathered her thoughts, sorting priorities and assessing resources. 

Her gaze wandered around the field. The Greyton Rabble were standing around in a mob, looking like corpses wrapped in sadness. They had been bloodied in both battles so far and had lost a number of their comrades in the process, so were looking worse for wear. She could see Bu’s Medics moving amongst them, passing out encouraging words or a bitter root where needed. 

B1 and B2 were rolling around on the ground, with Mortimers Maxim and the Greyson Shields in a circle around them. The two more experienced units were looking calm and relaxed, more caught up in the ogre betting pool than worrying about the coming fight. Tabitha didn’t approve of the lack of discipline, but trusted them to pull together when needed, so she let them have their fun. 

Tabithas gaze drifted over the makeshift wall the Greyson Specials were sitting on, and settled on the partially liquified remains a horse lying further out in the field. After a long moment and with a sinking stomach, she recognised the remains as being her horse, Misty.

Misty had been the last link to the childhood Tabitha had left behind in Skor. Born as the eldest daughter of a minor aristocrat in the House of Oswald, Tabitha had been raised as a Lady. Or so her father had attempted, anyway. She often skipped out on sewing lessons to go whoop the local boys with sticks however, and quickly went from simply watching the patrols to arguing with the sergeants about their orders. Her Father attempted to rein her in, but Tabitha knew her place in the world, and would not be dissuaded.

Misty had been a gift from her Father on her 13th birthday - one last attempt at bribing her back into obedience. Tabitha took the horse with nary a thanks, and used it to roam further afield. Her Father gave up on her at this point, focusing his energy on his next eldest, a boy 11 years Tabithas junior, Martin.

Tabitha was happy being the family embarrassment and focused her time and attention on military logistics and engineering, topics her father disapproved of, as they were not appropriate for a noble born lady. She would bunk in the local barracks when she could get away with it, or in the loft of the engineers guild when she couldn’t.  As time went on, she spent less and less time at her family home, and by the time she had reached her 20’s, she was gainfully employed as a military engineer, supervising the construction of dirt fortifications for patrols and deployable bridges for the army.

Not long after her 26th birthday she received a missive urging her to come home. Her father had fallen ill, and it was only appropriate that she observed his passing - or so she thought. He seemed to wish to reach a compromise with her in the final weeks of his life - he would do her the favour of disowning her, leave her with a small purse of gold and give up all attempts to further influence her life. In exchange, she would give up all claims to everything family related, change her name, and do an associate of his a favour.

Tabitha thought these terms agreeable, so gave her word.

Xelo’Tath of Clair stepped out of the shadows, chains rattling but otherwise carrying none of the finery he possesses these days, bar the grin. “The look of horror on your face suggests you have realised this already, but yes, your father did indeed make a deal with the devil. This particular devil is known as Xelo’Tath of Clair. Nice to make your acquaintance, Tabitha, formally of House Oswald. You are beholden to me, and I do believe I shall take advantage of that immediately. To the south is a town known as Dejune. In it is a man-child stuck in the body of an orc, he won’t be hard to find. His name is Mortimer, and you shall serve him for a year. Do his bidding, and see that he doesn’t fail” Xelo’Taths grin widens “And keep him from getting himself killed, will you? He seems to lack the survival instincts you mortals usually have in spades”

Xelo’Tath turns to the ailing Sir Oswald, his grin getting even bigger still. “As agreed, you have given me a year of your daughters life, and so I shall give you another year of your own. Come, I cannot repair you here.”

Reaching out, he disappeared with Tabithas father, leaving her alone with her thoughts

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"Mistress. MISTRESS. The enemy isn’t far away. That dwarf is yelling for you, you might want to attend him”

With a shudder, Tabitha turns away from Mistys slowly melting corpse, her thoughts turning to her duty. This would be over soon, one way or another