Recent content by Bula

Bula nodded and as Voe got comfortable, her gaze swept the tiny clearing for a sturdy tree. Unlike the tiefling, the shaman did not have a bedroll of any sort. Once he stoked the fire, she leaned toward it a little, savoring the warmth. A moment later, she stood to her feet. "I'll trust you on...

"Crobhear," the shaman decided with sudden certainty after Voe finished speaking. Another bite was taken of the food she'd been offered and she savored it this time. It did taste good compared to what she'd been living off of as of late. Finishing, she turned towards Voe more fully. Orange eyes...

Bula's appetite soured after another bite, Voe's words a truth she didn't want confirmed. She too had searched high and low, but strangely enough she hadn't seen a single orc other than herself since the ice trolls. Though a shaman, Bula hated stirring the spirits of her ancestors from their...

The shaman looked to the food for a long moment, not ready quite yet to partake. She needed time to mull the offer over, to learn whether or not she could trust Voe and his drake-hound. Something akin to a smile briefly moved her lips before they settled into the frown that often creased her...

The last thing Bula expected was to be greeted and then coaxed out of her shadows. She was hesitant at first to emerge from the tree line and into Voe's small campfire's area, but food... Food was a tempting and damn good reason to do just that. Her fiery gaze slid over to the drake-hound...

Months had passed since Bula's encounters with the ice trolls that separated her from her tribe. There was a pang in her chest for the familiar, but tonight Bula could not spare the time to mourn her own losses. Instead, she had a belly to fill that growled angrily at her. It'd been weeks since...

Bula was less careful in her pursuit, perhaps lending too much of her trust to chance as she followed after Hath. Her gaze remained ahead of them, even as the clashing of the remaining orc in battle with the troll rolled down the road in their wake. "Hug the wall," Bula called out to him...

Hath already slipped, albeit without any smoothness to go with it. Ice had a way of taking away one's independence simply by existing. Out of her sight, the half-blind shaman rose carefully to her feet to prevent any unwanted slippage. The scout was nearer now, eagerly throwing his weight into...

Bula had little more luck than Hath and when the blade of her hatchets–first one, then the other–struck the hide of the ice troll, it bit through the armor. Only enough to draw a sliver of icy ichor and irritate the creature, but it was enough. Unable to free either one of her axes, even with...

Bula skid to a stop, digging her heels into drifting snow as the wind picked up. Her head turned, jaw clenched into a grimace. Her gaze settled on the wounded man, as if locked in a trance. Something moved in her blind eye, a faint glimmer she thought was phantom memories–brighter than what told...

Something akin to the beginnings of a disgruntled snarl twitched the corner of her lip. The orc's gloved hands rested up on the hilts of her axes, the feel of their hafts against her fingers familiar and comforting. Black braids hung around her face, flecks of snow and ice caught in their thick...

Gorsgoya's administrations elicited a low growl from Bula. It hurt, but it was good for her leg, which had already been scraped clean of dead skin. The wound was worse than Bula showed, but that wasn't uncommon for the she-orc. Her head turned, ear toward the exit of the tent as if she heard...

The orc wanted to discuss these things privately, without any company save her mother. But her wounds did need looking after, less they fester, and she looses the limb. That would render her useless to her clan, she believed. She couldn't live that kind of life, she was far too active to be...

It was the second time she'd come home sporting wounds. Bula was proud of the scars she bore, of the scars she would yet bear. The she-orc, nonetheless, paid heed to her mother's words. She didn't want to deal with seeing Gorsgoya, but a splint would do her twisted and broken foot well. With a...

The blood covered, earless orc's right ear, or lack thereof, not hearing Mabess's departure from her tent. Fortunately, Mabess called Bula's name loud enough for her left ear to pick up. The right side of her body looked her experience. Worn, damaged, imperfect. At least scarring meant something...