Age of Wonders 3 Custom Campaign (Elven Warlord) Part 5: La Guerrita

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The thick, lazy drone of cicadas punctuated the balmy evening atmosphere as Theodora's combined army made camp in the Dusty Barrens. A dense mist, wafting up from nearby forests and swamps to the southwest combined with the familiar hazy heat to produce a moist, humid fug that was both cloying, and strangely relaxing.
As had become the Elven princess's custom over the course of her developing military campaign, Theodora's forces combined conventional organisation with a degree of improvisation, strangely concordant with her... chaotic tendencies. The inherent powers she strived to contain, her ordered nature constantly struggling.
Tents and makeshift fortifications, mostly crude but skilfully-sharpened wooden stakes carved from the tough, gnarly trees particular to this region of the Barrens, were arrayed in broad, sweeping concentrations, clustered primarily around the road junction half a dozen miles south of Ursfor.
The Orcish inhabitants of the town - now rapidly reaching the cusp of prosperity, with the mine now reopened and the inn doing fine business - had gratefully provided provisions to Theodora's forces, in celebration of her defeat of the great Spiders.
Already, skilled Orc artisans were getting to work creating commemorative drinking vessels from the chitinous remnants. Theo herself sported a rather impressive war-horn, fashioned from a hollowed-out pincer, alongside a similar counterpart for drinking purposes.
She giggled to herself. Absolutely no chance whatsoever I might mistake one for the other and find myself puffing in mute futility in front of everyone, come the next battle... Sighing, she returned her attention to the game of cards she, her champions and several others now played.
Currently stripped down to a pair of silken pantaloons and chainmail bikini, Theo lounged upon cushions placed atop a chaise-lounge brought from the capital. She sipped from a crude iron tankard and nearly spat out the mouthful, stifling a curse.
'Phtugh!' she spluttered. 'This is...' she remembered Garrommkruk, captain of the Orcish unit, was sat just to her left, studying his hand of cards intently - 'Subtly different from the sort of libation we're used to, don't you think?'
Shane grinned, downed his in a gulp. Theo studied him closely. His features betrayed no evidence of distaste. Typical, she reflected, doubtless his druidic travels have frequently accustomed him to much more challenging drinks, over the years. Perhaps it is genuinely to his liking!
'It's strong stuff, for certain,' he concurred. 'I like it, though!'
Garrommkruk chuckled approvingly. He shot a sympathetic wink to Theo.
'I'd imagine it does not suit the Elven palette as much. Your Highness's willingness to sample our finest is appreciated,' he grunted. 'But... feel free to favour your usual tipple, if it pleases you. I will certainly not be offended!'
Theo blushed and, shaking her head, finished her drink. 'The serpent was quite the foe,' she reflected, thoughtfully.
Tyrobur nodded. 'Aye, t'was a formidable adversary. Fortunately, our various strengths won the day.'
'All you need is...' Shane prompted.
Theo grinned. 'Sharp metal, to bring home the point.' She examined the exquisite dagger discovered among the spoils of a recent battle.
ᴭllsa, sat to Theo's right, stroking the latter's thigh despite her friend's half-hearted attempts to gently fend off her dainty, tickling fingers, mischievously chimed in.
'Careful, Theo - you'll do yourself a mischief with that!'
Theo smirked, sheathing the dagger with a smooth movement. She raised an eyebrow in mock disdain, haughtily returning her attention to her cards.
'Jealousy does not become you, sweet ᴭllsa. Any more than you can hold a tankard of ale, yourself,' here she poked the Scout's bare midriff playfully, causing the girl to yelp. She dropped her cards, cursing, then burst into a fit of giggles.
'White Duke, your ladyship. Doesn't he remind you of someone?' ᴭllsa held up the card in question. The resemblance to a figure of increasing regional significance was unmistakable. A coincidence, of course. Theo tried to fight down the crimson flush which engulfed her cheeks, failed, felt humiliation rising from somewhere betwixt her hips. Oh!
'I haven't even met him,' Theo replied, briskly. 'Although I will, at some point. At a suitable juncture.' Her blush was practically beetroot red. 'What?' she enquired; everyone around her guffawed, as one, unable to control themselves.
'He is quite handsome,' she conceded, as composure was regained. 'But the measure of the man will become known to us in due course. If he is establishing a presence to the north, we shall need to build a similarly robust.. bastion, perhaps in the brush. I mean wood... I mean... hills... I...'
Gods help me, she thought, sighing, cheeks hot, omnipresent giggling surrounding her again. Horatio. Hmm... I wonder what he's like?
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