"Kill the Mage." was all Lontok could think about since Eyedrinker made his decree. As he saddled up on Smiler again, and prepped himself and the beast in all the fittings of war, "Kill the Mage." rang through his mind. The armored skullcap didn't lessen the taunting as he threw it on, nor did the snug pull of the leather tunic, gauntlets, and boots. There was a quick glint has his large dagger found its home on his thigh, bound by leather straps, and an even more sinister glare as Lontok thought of the things he would do to a sorcerer if given the chance. He had many puckered wounds that never seemed to heal completely from those noxious potions and malicious spells that haunted his youth as a slave. The damned Drow loved to practice darker arts on their slaves, and Lontok had not been exempt. He still had images of young 'converts' slinging mumbled hexes and garbled wards across the grounds of the compound. Of course Lontok had been collared and chained in iron to a boulder as to dissuade any attempts to avoid the target practice. The apprentice who came up with the blasted idea had been one of the first to have his throat slit when Lontoks escape came. It didn't do well to dwell on bad memeries and harsh feelings, least said hummie lore. Lontok just spat and launched into the low haunch of the warg as he and the Chosen set out to battle.

The fog was unnatural. brought on by dark arts. Lontok could tell as much, and his nose knew that the haze hid bloodshed too. There would be death today, and the Captain wished for it to be the Mages. His grip on his bow tightened as he felt rumblings of what he thought to be carvery or siege equipment passing by. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when a dark shadow loomed out of the mist and sent Koloch flying. No, that was not band of horses or battering ram; it was a cursed mountain! His warg barked and lunged under the arc of the flying Rosie(Lontok might have even been able to grab him, but it'd have been folly at his trajectory.) and dove under the large gait of the golem leaving the rider, Lontok, to quickly smash himself into wargfur to avoid clipping the behemoth. Speaking of behemoths, as Lontok rose up with arrow strung ready to fire, he had to realizations. One; firing arrows at a stone golem was akin to firing volleys at a mountain. Two: Ushgar(who Lontok already thought was unnaturally spawned) had decided to fist right said mountain. He could only cock an eyebrow in confusion at these circumstances before his friend Ushgar's heel came swinging around to hit him square in the temple as the golem attempted to throw his assaulter off. Lontok went to sleep faster than he would have with a belly of spirits and a bed of whores. The cap went flying, as did Lontok from the saddle as he landed in a heap away from the golem's shadow. Smiler, his warg, circled around, attacking an Achnal spearman that went after the dismounted archer.

The kick might have knocked him out, but landing square on his face sure did wake him back up. His tusks plowed up fresh earth as he swung his head furiously trying to catch his bearings. He could find his bow until he jumped up and fell back down with it twanging across his ankles. Smiler growled and jumped past a still confused Lontok to a hummie that bared an axe. The splash of blood missed the Captain but reminded him he needed to take action. Sharp orc eyes scanned the battlefield, spotting Ygdri in combat with a group of squishies, and the burgundy glow of Koloch's armor as he fought a very fancy guard of somesort. Why was it not crimson like usual? Did the fall knock his tinker around enough that the enemies had changed? This must be the personal magesguard, or so he thought. The explosion of a fireball in the distanced explained why, as the flash put a strange hue on Rosies armor. Lontok could have swore he saw Derthag in that meteor. No time to worry now as he slapped at his lower back to find quiver and bolt which he strung up swiftly with lethal intent. He was still spitting dirt from his mouth and the grit stung his eyes as he let a shaft loose into an Achnal pikeraider far behind Koloch. 

"We've got a damned golem and tuskers scattered all over fighting the bunnies. We need to find the mage and end him before he ends us. Any idea which way?" bellowed the halberd-wielder loud enough to be heard

He threw an arm out pointing in the direction of the pompous mage who stood defiant in his leyline powered rune of protection. It would ward away any physical or magical attack that was sent his way as long as he stayed within the small area. Grim news for tuskers indeed. 

"The shebitch wants magesblod! She found it too!" he screeched as he tore and swatted the dirt from his face in annoyance.

Then he stared down at the handful of dirt in a very bemused manner. The spark in his eye could light a candle, but for now it would have to kill a mage. 

"Cover me, this just might work!" hollered Lontok as he ran and leaped in a crouch onto Smiler's back, who in turn rose up on her hindquarters in surprise. 

At the peak of the warg's stance, one would have seen Lontok in quintessential archery pose, one leg on his mount shoulders standing in the saddle, letting a arrow fly straight toward the mage. Unbeknownst to the mage, this big orc bolt carried with it a secret. It was covered in the very dirt Lontok had fallen in, and in that moment of clarity/head trauma, he had a epiphany. The flashback of memories watching learning mages pelt each other with dirtballs, the native earth being magically inert to any protective ward or spells due to the leylines it hailed from. It also worked well for arrows too, and the fact that arrow came from a burly orc longbow only made the package even more deadly for the mage.