Akiros Ismort scowled as he rode along the Zebulon Pike in the warm sun sweating profusely while Baron Yorick enjoyed conversations with his subjects as they went. Akiros had a contingent of Meeroever guard following just behind the baron providing security. Akiros himself didn’t need to be there but it was a welcome, if uncomfortable, way to escape Meeroever. The Warden was furious. Akiros could admit to himself that he wasn’t cut out to be leader. That had been a hard concept for Akiros to accept but with it came the realization that his role providing law and security to the cities of the kingdom and for the baron and his council had brought a sense of purpose and fulfillment that he had searched for since his escape from Taldor. It even occurred to him that serving Brother Zero and his group had allowed Akiros to serve Erastil and while he had no plans to necessarily repent for what had happened in a way it made him feel as if he had regained some small measure of respect. In fact everything had gone well until Corbin. It was bad enough, the Warden had stated to any that listened, that the General had tried to steal his men to play army with men needed to man Meeroever and Olegton and the pike, and although he come to enjoy his battles with the battlepriest the latest turn of events was impossible. Now Corbin brought absolute scandal upon the barony with his deplorable behavior. Akiros couldn’t respect a man in that kind of position who behaved as Corbin did: drinking every night and gambling on his cups, consorting with unsavory individuals in any place where a beer is poured, partying in the Castle, trying to steal his position (Akiros found it hard to let of of that one), that week in Olegton alone that ended not only Corbin’s welcome there but Topper’s eviction from the town on the end of Oleg’s boot but this farce of a occurrence that brought that freak of a harlot Korrah Daggerthews into Castle Stag. That idiot Corbin loses at a drinking game, an arm wrestling contest, and a pitched bare fisted brawl through half of Meeroever and suddenly he’s bedding the ogre-faced, muscle-knotted, troll faced female half-orc Numerian primitive. It made Akiros shudder. Their couplings sounded like elks rutting; it had the servant frightened. The beast of a woman stalked the castle at a whim, abused the staff, and forced Akiros to station triple the men in the castle to ensure security and to watch the hag. He didn’t know what the baron thought of it all but this tour up to Olegton was welcome indeed. It was unfortunate that Akiros couldn’t ride the whole way but he didn’t trust the “General” or his beastcunt alone in Meeroever for too long. Akiros would return when the baron had crossed the Rickety Bridge which was now quite sturdy and well travelled and leave the guards, Baron Yorick and all of the damn crows (Akiros had really started to hate crows, ravens, whatever) and their incessant noise and shit.
The baron ended a pleasant chat with a farmer and began to ride again. Akiros Ismort began to smile at the slight breeze from the river when there was a tumult of wings above him and cries and screeches from the unkindness of ravens that leapt into the air heralded the guano that hit Warden Ismort in the helm and slid down his cheek. Akiros gritted his teeth and sloshed water on himself to clean the mess off but thought to himself that it was a better place to be than near the General and his slatternly cow.