It started as all great adventures did.
With a very long walk.
You see, Bruk knew in his heart of hearts (and sometimes in the still-beating hearts of those who met him while he was hungry) that he was The Guardian of the Forest; chosen by nature herself to slay all those who dared to destroy her. However, there was a small issue at hand. There wasn't really a set place to go, or distinct foe to vanquish. Which boiled down to Bruk letting his feet (and all those hearts) guide the way in aimless wandering.
Thus the very long walk.
Completely oblivious of the world around him, the Orc had blundered, slaughtered and eaten a path of destruction with a very wonky inner compass. He had become the scourge of wood and stonecutters alike, leaving small towns unable to build much of anything due to his habit of tenderising all the able-bodied workers with his meaty, green fists.
He had to be stopped, well, at least in public opinion from those with suffering businesses and empty hearths (and let's not forget the fletchers, they were most annoyed).
Eventually, this led to a modest bounty being placed upon the wayward Orc, otherwise known as 'BRUK' but sometimes known as 'OH HEAVENS, HE'S COMING FOR MAAAAGGHH!!!' A bounty that Bruk was very much unaware of; he had been too busy trying to comprehend their loathing of the environment that nurtured their development as a society and how they were blind to methods of sustainabil-
Okay, no, he had been thinking about food. Being the Guardian of the Forest was hungry work, after all.
And in such deep contemplation Bruk had failed to observe the suspicious pile of leaves in the middle of the road and only noticed their presence after he had stepped upon them.
A trap.
For beneath the pile of leaves was a large hole, about twenty feet deep. A hole which Bruk now occupied after tumbling into it like a large green oaf. This was a very confusing experience for him, it wasn't terribly often that the ground itself tended to eat people like this. Was nature mad at him? Had he done something wrong?
It made his head hurt (although that may have been because he hit his head on the way down).
“WAT BRUK DO WRONG?!” the Orc asked the hole that was now the sky, a large trembling pout appearing on his terrifying face.
“Oh, you know what you did, fiend!” came a victorious yet accusatory voice in response. Was it really the voice of nature herself? She sounded rather nasal and quite masculine. This was rather confusing, but as Bruk was already confused, it didn't really matter too much.
“NO! BRUK NOT KNOW!”
Appearing at the top of the hole was first, a drawn bow and arrow and second the man that held it. He was about to respond to the brute's disorientated shouts as rehearsed in his head the entire time he laid in wait but was unfortunately interrupted by the bounty.
“WAIT! YOU NOT NATURE! WHY YOU LYIN TO BRUK?!”
The man blinked, at first annoyed and then bewildered.
“I...beg your pardon?”
The man, Reginald Pewter had designed this idiotic trap with his partner in crime (and part-time lover) Brumhilda Bosht. The other hopefuls wishing to nab this bounty had laughed at the concept of a big hole in the middle of the road but who was laughing now?
Reginald knew that the smarter option here was to rain down a storm of arrows upon the trapped Orc and be done with the matter, but between its perplexing questions and his immense feeling of pride he couldn't do it just yet. Not without Brumhilda (also known as BB, or BBB when she was feeling extra bad) who was at that moment in time, convening with nature.
Or taking a piss in a bush, to shed the shackles of polite society.
“BRUK FOUGHT YOU WAS NATURE BUT YOU NOT! YOU A LIAR!”
“What?”
With a very long walk.
You see, Bruk knew in his heart of hearts (and sometimes in the still-beating hearts of those who met him while he was hungry) that he was The Guardian of the Forest; chosen by nature herself to slay all those who dared to destroy her. However, there was a small issue at hand. There wasn't really a set place to go, or distinct foe to vanquish. Which boiled down to Bruk letting his feet (and all those hearts) guide the way in aimless wandering.
Thus the very long walk.
Completely oblivious of the world around him, the Orc had blundered, slaughtered and eaten a path of destruction with a very wonky inner compass. He had become the scourge of wood and stonecutters alike, leaving small towns unable to build much of anything due to his habit of tenderising all the able-bodied workers with his meaty, green fists.
He had to be stopped, well, at least in public opinion from those with suffering businesses and empty hearths (and let's not forget the fletchers, they were most annoyed).
Eventually, this led to a modest bounty being placed upon the wayward Orc, otherwise known as 'BRUK' but sometimes known as 'OH HEAVENS, HE'S COMING FOR MAAAAGGHH!!!' A bounty that Bruk was very much unaware of; he had been too busy trying to comprehend their loathing of the environment that nurtured their development as a society and how they were blind to methods of sustainabil-
Okay, no, he had been thinking about food. Being the Guardian of the Forest was hungry work, after all.
And in such deep contemplation Bruk had failed to observe the suspicious pile of leaves in the middle of the road and only noticed their presence after he had stepped upon them.
A trap.
For beneath the pile of leaves was a large hole, about twenty feet deep. A hole which Bruk now occupied after tumbling into it like a large green oaf. This was a very confusing experience for him, it wasn't terribly often that the ground itself tended to eat people like this. Was nature mad at him? Had he done something wrong?
It made his head hurt (although that may have been because he hit his head on the way down).
“WAT BRUK DO WRONG?!” the Orc asked the hole that was now the sky, a large trembling pout appearing on his terrifying face.
“Oh, you know what you did, fiend!” came a victorious yet accusatory voice in response. Was it really the voice of nature herself? She sounded rather nasal and quite masculine. This was rather confusing, but as Bruk was already confused, it didn't really matter too much.
“NO! BRUK NOT KNOW!”
Appearing at the top of the hole was first, a drawn bow and arrow and second the man that held it. He was about to respond to the brute's disorientated shouts as rehearsed in his head the entire time he laid in wait but was unfortunately interrupted by the bounty.
“WAIT! YOU NOT NATURE! WHY YOU LYIN TO BRUK?!”
The man blinked, at first annoyed and then bewildered.
“I...beg your pardon?”
The man, Reginald Pewter had designed this idiotic trap with his partner in crime (and part-time lover) Brumhilda Bosht. The other hopefuls wishing to nab this bounty had laughed at the concept of a big hole in the middle of the road but who was laughing now?
Reginald knew that the smarter option here was to rain down a storm of arrows upon the trapped Orc and be done with the matter, but between its perplexing questions and his immense feeling of pride he couldn't do it just yet. Not without Brumhilda (also known as BB, or BBB when she was feeling extra bad) who was at that moment in time, convening with nature.
Or taking a piss in a bush, to shed the shackles of polite society.
“BRUK FOUGHT YOU WAS NATURE BUT YOU NOT! YOU A LIAR!”
“What?”
