The Torrents of War: Part 3 - Pieces on the Board (Patreon)

The last few days had been many things to Burx. 

It was inspiring to have seen Nazgrel's triumph over Orgrim through his embattled defense of Chieftain Xex'Mon. The other orcs had even regrown by the blessings of the Drakkari's deities in what could only be called a miracle. 

It was dispiriting to have seen so many of his kindred lose themselves to riots and fury. Their foes even going so far as to unleash Warlock magics in the chaos, but even their own Legionaries had some surrender to treason or bloodlust, but thankfully only a few. 

It had also all proven exhausting. Stomping through the winding mountain peaks, picking across ruined villages and abandoned camps. Occasionally being struck by raiders or finding their kindred dead in the snow from exhaustion and cold. 

'Some part of me truly hopes this promised land in the North is not so miserable and grim as this place.' He thought, looking at the bleak grey mountains and skies, the pristine white snow doing nothing to waylay the growing slush and sense of grim oppressiveness. 

He shook his head and returned to the moment at hand, as he followed Xex'Mon, Nazgrel and a host of other commanders and Priests into a winding ravine. 

"Our native allies tell us this is where a good number of them are holed up," Xex'Mon intoned. "Let us see if we can finally resolve these matters-"

A pained, high pitched wailing flooded the crevasse and they stormed ahead, Drakkari only able to march in single file while Burx and Nazgrel could run side by side. 

What awaited them was, he supposed, the remnants of their escorts. A small creature he knew to be a Kobold lay dead in the snow, a Gnoll was wrestling with a white fur covered Orc, while a troll lay bleeding against the wall and a bird woman rebounded off the stone, shrieking in fury. 

"For Zul'Drak!" he bellowed, leveling his shield at the suddenly charging warrior and redirecting his mighty axe. Stretching out his arm, Burx let himself surge forward, his open arm impacting against the taller orcs neck and sending him flying off his feet. 

Skidding to a halt he saw Nazgrel slice across the bare chest of an approaching orc before headbutting him to the ground. Xex'Mon came to a sudden halt and with one might hand hoisted the wrestling orc off the thrashing gnoll and lazily slammed her against a wall. 

The last tried to escape but the Harpy pounced, her claws digging into his back and lightning coursed through her body sending him into spasms. 

Burx turned away, biting his tongue until, "That's enough!" Xex'Mon snapped. 

The harpy rasped something at him in what sounded like a bastardisation of the trolls own tongue but Xex'Mon answered easily. 

"You have won, now let our Priests and Shaman tend to the healing and tell us of what happened here." 

The injured troll on the wall snorted, "Ambush, obviously. Guess they didn't want anyone finding their way to us yet?" 

Burx let a War Priest slip by him, carrying the now barely breathing Kobold in the palm of her hand while moving towards the twitching orc. 

"Have they taken the valley?" Nazgrel asked, a frown marring his features. 

The Harpy's feathers flared and she said, "Not yet, but they hold the mouth, we are keeping them out." 

Xex'Mon nodded and held up his captive, "Anything to add?" 

She spat put a gob of blood and muttered, "Should have waited, you woulda made better hostages..." 

"Ah so that was the scheme," Xex'Mon nodded, "Well, I am thinking once we can all travel, we should not keep our allies waiting no?" 

He looked to Nazgrel who blinked owlishly before nodding his head, "I concur, Chieftain Xex'Mon!" 

It wasn't long before they started moving again, watching the high walls for another strike team, but Burx still heard it when Xex'Mon whispered to him. 

"By the way Burx, excellent maneuver back there, you do us all proud." 

Burx swallowed, and stood a little taller, "Thank you, Chieftain." 

_______________________________________________________________

The sea air still had that distinct winter chill as it blew across Hooktusk’s frame, instinctively she wanted to ground herself, but the sharp winds meant little to ships so vast and magically protected as those of the Drakkari Fleet.

With that in mind, she turned her attention back to the ever-expanding horizon from her perch on deck, the crew quietly going about their tasks, bracing for either another dull day of sailing or an ambush at any moment.

For her part, Hooktusk lounged on her chair, a throne kindly gifted by her monarch but not one she terribly liked, save for the fact it was a throne. For all her sordid, mixed heritage, Hooktusk was certain no Drakkari blood flowed in her veins and so she had not inherited the larger troll’s affection for stone structures.

Shifting into the cushions she’d draped over it, she smacked her chops, failing to resist as yawn that overcame her.

The Frozen Warlord lent to her as a guard by Malakk scowled, “You carry yourself far too carelessly for one of such rank.”

“I carry myself exactly as seriously as I need Bil’Zed, anything else is ostentatious,” Her gaze snapped to a bat on the horizon and she flung herself from the throne, “At last, we have word!”

The messenger bat swooped down with a screech and deposited a sealed scroll in her hand before flying off to join its kin on their perch.

Breaking the seal and skimming the contents thrice over, a growing frown on her lips.

“What is the word?” Bil’Zed intoned.

She waved him off, “Ships from Kul’Tiras landed at Hillsbrad, reinforce some https://wow.gamepedia.com/Lord_Agrovane or some shit.”

The Frosen Warlord let loose a cold breath, “Betrayal then?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed, “Suspect perhaps, but nothing so overt.”

“And how would you know? Presuming your enemy’s actions is folly I am thinking-”

She, somewhat gently, closed the taller troll’s mouth and shook her head, “Let me worry about the intricacies of how fast messages run in contrast to ships and I shall leave you to your business.”

The troll scoffed but offered a lazy salute, “So the meeting is still on then?”

“For now,” she said, trying to remember the Tirasi patrols from the Second War in case they would enlighten her. “Send some dragoons to scout out ahead though, more than planned, and with a wider radius.”

That at least satiated the guard, Bil’Zed saluting as he spoke, “As you say, Navarch Hooktusk.”

Strolling back to her throne, Hooktusk flopped down, leg swinging over the side of the arm rest as she rubbed her chin, ‘I wonder if things are going smoothly in Arathi, or if I’ll need to send ships to Faldir's Cove?’

_______________________________________________________

The sun was breaking through the clouds, casting the marshalled legions in a gentle late Winter light, as the snow grew thinner on the sloped fields, the slush being pushed aside by Shamans will leaving them a clear path to march.

From atop his mammoth, Malakk murmured, “Thoradin’s Wall, an impressive thing to be sure.”

And it was. Smaller than some of Zul’Drak’s wall perhaps but by no means fragile, and despite recent wounds it had obviously withstood the test of time. Its white stone jutting out from the earth and stretching well out of sight North and West.

Orange adorned Syndicate soldiers lined the defenses, while others gathered at the base, part of an advance force promised by Beve, bolstering their number to that of six Legions.

“Will you be maintaining the Wall?” Gal’Darah asked, “Zul’Drak has its tiers but the steps are always open.”

Malakk chuckled, “An empire should not have closed doors, yes I am familiar with the thought, still,” He toyed with his tusk, humming. “This is a heritage site for humans, tearing down would be… Disrespectful. But perhaps it could stand to be remodeled some? We shall decide later and act as we need.”

Gal’Darah nodded in acceptance, his brow furrowing, “I am surprised Royal Counselor Perenolde has not returned.”

“I imagine she has much to discuss with Lord Falconcrest,” Pai Stormbringer hummed from her place, levitating near Malakk’s throne grasping her newly looted Arch Mages stave tightly.

Malakk nodded, leaning back into his throne, “I trust this will not take much longer. For now… Let us enjoy this little break, it may be the last we have for some days.”

_______________________________________________________

As far as hideouts went, Northfold Manor was certainly on the nicer end of things Beve thought. Lush farmlands, a large multi-story home bedecked in typically spartan-esc Arathi trappings and plenty of livestock that would ensure content soldiers and guards.

They were meeting in the oaken living room, stripped of lounges and other comforts it was one of the only rooms capable of comfortably holding Frost King Malakk’s elite guards. The sharp-eyed duo stood stiff as stone, but their eyes were alight with focus as they watched her pace around the chamber.

Falconcrest, all long hair and sharp angles, stood beside his square jawed and bald bodyguard Otto, neither’s expression gave away anything, but they radiated worry and discontent.

“I trust you understand Lord Falconcrest, that while I don’t want to impugn your scout’s skills, that given recent events I want to be sure of all the facts, yes?” She kept her manner honey sweet, even as she choked her steel stave on one hand, flashing teeth with every word while Singer was humming just out of sight.

Biting back bile, Falconcrest saluted, “Our scouts are well informed on this princess-”

“Royal Councilor,” she teased, motioning to the smiling Drakkari.

“Of course, Royal Councilors Perenolde,” He continued rhythm offset. “My scouts can be trusted; they know we cannot trip up so late into the game.”

“Hmm, yes, especially when so many risks have already been taken,” she hummed, shuffling through the scattered scratches on maps and left-over notes. “Still, if this is right it seems our main adversary may be the Witherbark and Boulderfist with how Strongarde is fairing.”

Falconcrest watched her for a moment before nodding, “Yes, I concur, though… I expected more, the Witherbark were meant to always have great numbers.”

“Perhaps they are squabbling with the Dwarves as well, we shall have to check,” she mused, “Still, if so, many people are racing for the capital or Ironforge we will need to make haste. Thank you Falconcrest, I assume you will be joining us on the march?” Her smile was wide and near gleeful, finally forcing the man to sag his shoulders.

“If I may ask, what pray-tell do you intend for me after the… Durnholde incident.”

“Why, whatever do you mean?” she teased.

Brow knitting together he sucked in a breath, “I… My forces were late to reinforce your position, rumors abound, and we did lose the Keep save the foundations-”

Beve tapped her staff rhythmically in time with Singer’s song, “Yes, the loss of the fort and so many new recruits was a shame, but lamentable things happen in war. Your battlefield competence may be in question, but that is no concern of mine and as to rumors,” she met his gaze, “Well, I know the troops say you held back your forces long enough for me to die tragically. In fact, I know even some of your fellows whisper of these scandalous accusations but… I never put much stock into rumors.”

She could see the wheels turning, his jaw rolling as he ground his teeth.

"Aah, but I can see it in your eyes," Beve sang, "you want to know what the catch is. But you, see, my dear lord, you have already caught yourself.”

She levelled an accusing digit at him, waggling it as though he were a disobedient pup. “None will trust you now, not because your ambitions have been made clear as day, but because you have shown when everything is on the line, you will prioritize your power alone to our jeopardy."

She twirled around to face him fully, a grin on her lips as she strode between the glaring Drakkari, "Besides, I think it is much safer to have my enemy where I can see them, rather than let them be cloaked in shadows, don't you?"

Falconcrest bowed low, his movements stiff and mechanical, even as relief washed over him, “I am most grateful for your wisdom and mercy, Royal Councilor Perenolde.”

‘I doubt it,’ she thought, a teasing smirk on her lips, “You are most welcome my dear, now hop to it and have your forces ready to move in short order. We will need our advanced scouts after all~”

“As you wish, milady,” He answered with a salute before marching from the house, Otto trailing behind him glancing back over his shoulder to ensure no surprise attack came.

“That was fun, shall we return to his imperial majesty?” Beve asked.

The elite guard nodded, as Singer slid up to her side, though the troll’s brows furrowed.

“He could be likened to a kinslayer, is it wise to trust someone so unreliable?” Kutube'sa asked.

Beve shrugged, “I will be informing Frost King Malakk of his duplicity as well and if he feels differently than that shall be that. As it is, I’d rather have a neutered foe where I can see them than grappling with whoever replaces him. Besides, whatever else he may be, Falconcrest is effective and removing him risks making me look petty or frightened.”

“Mhmm, very cutthroat,” the warrior rumbled.

Beve giggled, “My dears, you have no idea, that is what I adore about your politics, such… Honesty.”

Bith’Sa’s gaze was drifting towards the north, and Beve taped her stave, “Are you with us sweet Frost Warden?”

The troll woman arched her brow briefly and chuckled, “I was merely casting my senses north, these lands have a strange power about them I am thinking, and I can sense a concentration of… Something not far from here.”

“Ah, that would be the Circle of West Binding I suppose,” Beve answered thoughtfully.

“You know of this magic?” Bith’Sa asked.

Beve shrugged, “Somewhat, they hearken back longer than our written histories, but the Circles of Binding dot this land and number in four. There was always tell of great magical power, of voices and diabolic rituals,” she chuckled. “Some were sights of worship before the Light, for good and ill, others study, now they are forgotten, deemed relics and haunted at best, for a time it was even illegal to be present near one, lest you be accused of vile sorceries and heresy, that is all I know of them, it was in our history text books!”

Bith’Sa nodded, “There is definitely something… Off about it, I shall need to alert Frost King Malakk, so he can put a team of Shamans and Wardens onto it and establish a research post.”

“You think is that serious?” Beve blinked.

Both trolls chuckled and Kutube'sa said, “With our people’s history, one learns to take the things writhing beneath the earth very seriously, but we can discuss this later, shall we go?”

“You and your secrets, I hunger for more, but yes, we can discuss this in more… Comfortable surroundings,” she joked, raising her staff high and feeling the air begin to tingle and pulse with magic, light pulse around them and she struck the ground and in in a flash they were gone.

_______________________________________________________

The crown did not weigh as heavily on Galen’s head as he thought it might and while https://wow.gamepedia.com/Trol%27kalarhad been a challenge to wield, unfamiliar as it was, the Witherbark had given him ample practice in the last week.

At the thought of the damned creatures he squeezed the blade hilt, hastening his steps through the quiet capital towards the cracked but resolute walls of his city https://wow.gamepedia.com/Ariana_Thesslockewith a platoon https://wow.gamepedia.com/Stromgarde_Defendersand his own snipers following in his wake.

The sun was breaking through the end of winter gloom, but when he breathed mist still escaped his mouth. He came to a stop at the city gates as they began to creak and groan, swinging inwards and the first genuine smile of the day blossomed on his lips at the sight of Valorcall and his retinue awaiting them.

The taller man flung himself from his horse and marched forward to kneel, “My king, I am heartened to see you are well!”

Pulling Valorcall to his feet, Galen grinned, “A little worse for wear but well enough.”

Ariana cut in, “The Witherbark’s assault broke two days ago, though not before their ogres breached an outer wall, we nearly lost a district.”

“But we did not,” Galen stressed, turning back to his battle brother he clapped the man on the shoulders and frowned, “You have word from the front.”

“I do my liege it is… Less than ideal.”

Sighing he answered, “As things seem to be these days, what happened?”

Valorcall sighed, “Ironforge got word of the succession but do not acknowledge your claim, they have opened their borders to any who wish to leave Stromgarde.”

Galen bit back a snarl, “I expected as much, but I did not think they would act so swiftly. Can we destroy Thandol Span?”

“Maybe if we had acted a week ago,” Ariana said with a scowl, “But they will be too well defended for anything save a suicide mission now.”

Valorcall nodded, “She is correct, I had sub commander https://wow.gamepedia.com/Dathanor_Cromwellinvestigate as best he could but by all accounts the Dwarves of Dun Modr are well armed and alert.”

Galen’s hands balled into fists, his teeth grinding, “Damn the Trolls and damn the Ogres, twenty years of silence and only now they choose to be a thorn in our side, I’d almost respect the cunning if it weren’t so damned inconvenient!”

His lieutenants nodded in sympathy as he tried to rally, “What of the Witherbark and Ogres, are they at least proving a hindrance for the Dwarves?”

Valorcall frowned, “Somewhat, they are raiding refugees, more-so now that they broke off their assault, but I cannot help but think they are planning something greater.”

‘Dammit, the trolls alone we could have dealt with, the Ogres alone, the damned Dwarves alone, but all at once with people fleeing South, we have not the means!’

“Come, join me in the war room, you can eat and rest up while we discuss how best to… prioritize our forces.”

The mood was dour as they began the trek back to the Keep, a falcon’s shadow passing over their heads unnoticed.

_______________________________________________________

Navarch Hooktusk idly ground some sand beneath her heel, her Malakk assigned Frozen Warlord standing nearby alert and as humorless as his homeland was cold.

The microscopic island they stood upon was barely twenty feet in length, a mix of hole filled coral that was being worn away at by wind and waves, leaving for a slight dip to make a sand bank lined with moss and seaweed.

“Heave ho! Heave ho!” Some obviously human voiced bellowed, making her sigh with relief.

“Finally, we can get this meeting over with,” She muttered, tossing back a sip of her diminishing rum supply as she watched the ship fade into view and caught sight of the square jawed, brunette in a long billowing cloak that was https://wow.gamepedia.com/Flynn_Fairwind.

Bil’Zed started to lecture, “Remember to be on guard and that you speak with-”

“Frost King Malakk’s voice, yes, yes, I know,” She mocked, “how about you do your job and stand guard with your invisible little panther friend there and leave negotiating with pirates, to the pirate.”

The Drakkari scowled, his gaze flickering to the near invisible frame of a black spotted, white furred Drakkari wreathed in unfamiliar magics obscuring their presence.

Flynn’s rowboat drifted to their meeting spot and with a quick flick of some rope around a thick bit of stone was pulled in. The dapper pirate clapped his towering cousin, Klause on the shoulder and was followed by the man as he hopped from the boat and onto the island. Leaving behind a sprightly looking gunner watching from the water, dwarven rifle resting on their shoulder and gaze set upon them.

She threw her arms wide and cackled, “Flynn Fairwind, how are you ya old pirate?!”

“Well enough,” he answered gamely, a smile on his lips but his arms remaining tight to his frame, “Forgive me for not reflecting your warmth back at you but given past encounters I feel some tension may be warranted.”

She snorted, “Come now, when have we ever fought seriously.”

“You set one of my crew on fire,” He answered with a tilt to his head.

“After he stabbed one of mine,” she chuckled, “The Bruisers did not care for us after that.”

“They did not, I recall some other incidents but… Those were all as pirates.”

She saluted with a flask, “And we are no longer pirates, but oh so noble naval commanders are we~”

The old tune was answered with a hum from Flynn even as he shook his head. “Not officially anything yet I’m afraid, save for one of several captains under contract to Lady Ashvane, for whom I was asked to speak.”

“Yes, yes how did that happen I wonder?” She asked.

“Our fleet had a minor scuffle with the Tirasi as they returned from the front and our fleet commander was killed, it could have become a blood bath but then word reached us of Ashvane’s offer. The promise of lands and titles for every captain kept us in one piece, as for me.” He gave a helpless sort of shrug, “Apparently she liked the cut of my jib.”

“Must be the way you carry yourself then, careful or she may want to marry you off to one of her spawn,” Hooktusk chuckled.

“Mercy me, spare my soul from the dreary dabbling’s of inbred nobles, would you? This politicking is enough to last a lifetime,” With that he pulled a small flask of his own out and shared in a sailor salute before throwing back a gulp and tipping out the rest to the sand, an act she mirrored.

With the pleasantries done, both stepped forward, poised and relaxed, they met one another’s stare without blinking.

Hooktusk spoke first, “So tell me, how do you see this going?”

“Exactly as promised, agents will sabotage much of the fleet in the harbor, guard stations will be struck by assassins and our collective forces shall sail in with minimal resistance.”

“Wasn’t asking about the plan, was asking how you see this going, you Fairwind. No one else.”

The man clicked his tongue in thought, a small frown on his face, “I think the plan is true, Ashvane loathes the Proudmoores and those who watched her husband die for an honor duel. I fear less for your or our lives in the battle than I do what comes after.”

“Oh, do tell?”

Flynn kicked some sand disinterredly, “I do not know if what Ashvane imagines the future of Kul’Tiras will be shall line up with your kings and I’d not trust many of those she calls to her side. They likely think this no great change save a shifting of some land and titles to their own pockets and may not take kindly to the thought of a true troll king.”

“They underestimate us then?” She asked.

“I think so, or perhaps merely do not understand you,” He scoffed, “Or they are simply that arrogant. Ashvane thinks ruling Kul’Tiras shall be simple with the right titles and some enforcers, I am less sure.”

“Hmm, it is a rough place,” Hooktusk conceded, “But those are concerns for the future, as of now we cannot still ourselves in a storm for fear of what may be awaiting us on land ey?”

“You are right, we are agreed then?”

“Not yet,” She countered, leaning forward, “You really trust this woman?”

Flynn lolled his head to the side, “Enough to agree to this plan but no farther, and not without an escape route for my crew in mind.”

Hooktusk scoffed affectionally, “Smart man, but what of the ships arriving at Hillsbrad then?” Word had arrived only recently that the coast still remained out of Drakkari hands, and she was not of a mind to be embarrassed by letting that slide with no comment.

Flynn rolled his shoulders, “Not much to be done about that, our sponsor kept what she could contained to Kul’Tiras an Daelans paranoia did the rest, but they have ships across the islands, so some were bound to be sent to foreign shores. Still, this may serve the cause in the end.”

“It could,” she answered, tapping her empty flask, “Could turn it into a bastion for resistance too, but the sail back should give us time.” Lest treason was afoot, but that is what dragoons were for she felt.

It was risky as it ever was, but she’d known Flynn for a time and his reputation for longer, and if he took a contract, he stuck to it and never double dealt without being the first one cheated.

‘We want this war done and if Kul’Tiras still stands, Hillsbrad and Arathi remain battlefields, but if I secure it, we can put a stop to the squabbling and bleeding here and now.’ The fact it would be perhaps the greatest feather in her cap was a nice boon in of itself too.

‘I was given command, might as well make use of it.’

Sucking in a breath she grinned, “I will agree, provided some subtle shifts.”

“Oh, pray tell?” The captain asked, eyeing her warily.

“Your ship shall accompany ours before we set off, and I dictate the array of the Drakkari Forces, if this Ashvane thinks themself a better naval commander they may believe that, but they do not dictate when or how we attack.”

“… I believe she will accept these terms, provided you, or we I suppose, attack on the allotted day, even her forces would not be able to claim the island alone. Can we arrive on time still?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, we have our ways,” she chuckled, patting her Gral blessed belt buckle.

Flynn nodded, eyes reflecting the golden shine of her blessed item as he held out a hand, “Shake on it then?”

“And drink to it later,” She chuckled, clasping his arm.

_______________________________________________________________

Nazgrel could well understand why their native allies had sent agents to guide them through the mountainous crags. Winding stone walls, with shadowy ground and deep drops, all branching in different directions. Even worse, they often grew cramped, the Drakkari in their number having to shuffle on their sides to slip through the crags.

One could die in them. 

But with a Harpy up above and their allies familiarity with the land and left over markers, they made good time. 

Time that was spent informing them of the nature of the conflict between Frostwolf and the Valley Dwellers. 

As they told it, with the defeat of the Amani in the Troll wars and the spread of humans across the lands. Many deemed the human empires enemy would find themselves retreating into the mountains. The mountains were still ablaze and awash in arcane energies for centuries after the war, meaning so long as one avoided the core territories life could be good if not easy. 

But as the magic faded and humans came more and more they would retract into the mountains and highest peaks. Eventually many would stumble on the hidden paths to the great Valley, beloved by the Spirits, its plants offered succor, its beasts food and the earth a great bounty. 

For generations the four tribes would live in harmony, occasionally dueling for influence but always with restraint and purpose. In this safe seclusion they thrived, until one day, the Frostwolf clan arrived. 

Having somehow sneaked passed Alterac's mountaineers or even managed a secret deal with one of their authorities, the clan found their way into the valley. Staking their claim in the North which had always been reserved for beasts to be hunted. 

Negotiations had barely begun before breaking down, confusion, fear of discovery, all sides backs being to the wall as well as growing offence and a looming food crisis set them at odds. 

One would think the Orcs easily outnumbered, but their Shaman, Drek'Thar called forth a great giant of stone and ice. A last line of defense for the valley dwellers turned against them and left to run amuck for weeks before it was lulled back into its tomb. 

Their numbers greatly depleted and wary such a thing could happen again, the valley dwellers surrendered the North, but remained bitter for years to come. 

Nazgrel wished he could say he was surprised by his mounting disappointment in the one remained 'pure' clan of Orcs, but he was not. 

He cast such thoughts from his mind as they finally returned to wide open space, and beheld the sights before them. A great, vast plane of snow that gave way into slopes and rising peaks that stretched North and South for miles. So high were those walls of stone, they pierced the clouds! 

Gathered on one side of the clearing below it were the Orcs, great banners of blue and white, blowing amid tents of hide and cloth. They were stared down from the slopes of the mountains rise by their Valley Dwellers, their mixed camp of trolls, Harpy, Kobolds, Gnoll and a host of Wolver and strangle some humans. All gathered around a great caves maw that could easily let three orcs walk side by side up into the valley. 

The Drakkari aligned camp let out a great cheer upon their arrival that shook the mountains, snow spilling over the stone. 

One could practically see the orc camp deflate as Nazgrel and his fellows made their way to the Valley Dwellers camp, their Harpy escort flying ahead to inform her mother of the ambush. 

Nazgrel cast one final glance at the orcish camp, and then turned his attention to his fellow Drakkari.