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Jellen stared down at the map of the human territories, a sneer of disgust curling his lips. His fort was marked with a black diamond encircled by a simple crown, the symbol of the dark lord. All around him for leagues were lands dominated by the most loathsome species on Midia, humans. Jellen had been born to a regal and powerful species that was far superior to any other race on his home planet, or any planet he'd visited since. Theirs was a culture of wisdom, strength, and beauty unsurpassed by any in existence. Now he dwelled in a drafty, crudely built fortress surrounded by a sea of inferior creatures not unlike insects in their capacity to produce filth and offspring.
He populated his fortress with mostly elven men because they were strong and suitable for servitude. He found destroying the humans so irresistible that he was forced to avoid them entirely. His elven servants dealt with anything involving the lands around them, including trade and communication. Jellen let the elvens deal with human disputes, and never involved himself with the management of the territories. Lately, he had left that to Vesakan, his second in command, despite her obsessive worship of the dark lord.
Jellen was not personally needed to control the rebellious humans, and every moment spent in that fortress, so far from the beloved Power the dark lord had stolen from him, was an insult. He couldn't even scry or magically spy upon the orb or the dark lord, so he was forced to settle with incomplete reports written by mundane spies. It was maddening.
He was weary of hearing reports of soldiers being trained, weapons being forged, and fortifications being built. His own scrying could at least tell him those things, but what did it matter? The humans had no hope of defeating his forces, let alone the dark lord. For years, they had been building their petty reserves, their pathetic 'army', but had yet to make any indication that they intended to attack.
Jellen crumpled the map, not for the first time since it was drawn, and threw it to the floor. He was weary of humans, weary of the insult of his post, and weary beyond endurance of answering to the dark lord. It was time to spur the humans into action. It was time to call them out, to urge the constipated rebellion into mobilization, so he could crush them and be done with it.
For the first time in months, Jellen smiled. Once he was free of the yoke of his post, he could return to the Northern Mountains and pursue recapturing the orb from the dark lord. It was time to take his power back. Jellen let out a sigh of anticipation, imagining how wonderful it would feel to be enveloped by the Power of the orb once more.
Vesakan would soon be returning to the north to report to her true master, the dark lord. Jellen would make his move then. It would not take more sorcerers than he could muster in a day. One swift, decisive strike should be the only action necessary to bring the humans to heel. He was actually looking forward to it. The orb had always been gleefully fond of destruction. This action would be homage to the Power.