Open Chronicles A Trek Through the Blight

[Jason Chronicles]

The behemoth approached, unlimbering a massive sword.

The orc watched, lips splitting into an anticipatory smile. He slid off his warg and walked toward the half-giant. His companions fanned our in a semi-circle behind him, enclosing them in ring of barren earth with walls of wargs and crumbled stone.

“I am Khurash,” said the orc, pointing his axe at the white haired monster, “and my blood will trickle. Yours will pour.”

 

[Ormr]

The Half-Giant barely seemed to notice that the Warg Riders were fanning out, they'd melted into the background while this focus remained on the Orc who had challenged him.

As Ormr approached he offered nothing but a grunt in response to the Orcs name. The sword he held in his right hand would stretch across to his left before he backhanded it back across at height with his opponents stomach as he came within range of Khurash, his right foot shifting forward slightly as the swing was made.

Even at range the sword, massive as it was could rip open the Orc but Ormr's blow was fairly basic; he knew that with the weapons Khurash had the Orc would have to come to him though he punctuated his actions with a rumbling...

"You are nothing."

 

[Kol]

Kol had kept his word.

The Raiders who remained were quietly sent away towards the south. There they would eventually meet the river and hopefully find a place to stand guard as they waited for their leader.

Meanwhile Kol and the three Skinwolves slowly moved away from the broken Keep. A small amount of blood was spilled, several of the orc corpses were mutilated and a blessing of the Dark Gods was granted. The Sorcerer and his abominations were cloaked within the desert, hidden to all but the most observant.

They slowly spread themselves out through the land, creeping alone until they found a place among the barrens. They're they would wait.

Kol peered down towards where Ormr fought, watching the duel and slowly beginning a count of the Warg and Orcs who surrounded the Great Giant.

He would have to kill them quick.

 

[Jason Chronicles]

The time for words was passed. Now iron would speak, in whispers and in shouts. The great two-handed sword whipped through the air like the trunk of an Aberessai elephant. Khurash knew it could flatten him even if he blocked the blow.

He gave ground and retreated, let the tip of the sword hum past his naked stomach, then advanced at a run before the back stroke could come. He moved swift as a deer, fierce as a leopard seeking to get in past the half-giant’s guard.

 

[Ormr]

The Half-Giant watched as his sword swept past the Orcs stomach, swinging with the momentum of his arm. He would roll his arm outwards when it became clear the sword wouldn't make contact so that he could manipulate the momentum of the blow and arc his weapon around, lifting it so that it came over his right shoulder, angling over his back.

No attempt to halt the advance of Khurash had been made.

Ormr's lips had twitched, the Orc rushed in to close the gap and with his left foot turning over the ground the Half-Giant would launch himself to meet Khurash so that the two of them collided in a horrendous collision as he brought his right leg up to deliver a mammoth flying knee to the Orc's chest.

Twisting his waist Ormr had reached out with his left arm as well, outstretching it so that the massive gauntlet covered hand could reach for Khurash's right forearm and crush down over it before twisting outwards in an attempt wrench the small axe from his opponents grasp.

 

[Kol]

The Sorcerer sat quietly below the expanse of a hollow piece of stone.

In his periphery he could just barely make out the positions of the three skinwolves. Each of them were anguished with the stay of their hand. Even from here he could sense their need for death, the call of the slaughter.

Kol knew that they would not stay their hands for long.

The Dark Gods had more than touched their minds, they had broken and twisted them long before they had ever been born. Fingers danced slowly over His Rune Knife, and as he watched Ormr press his advantage he knew it would soon be time.

 

[Jason Chronicles]

Gripping his long knife reverse, Khurash slammed it down toward the incoming leg, caring little whether the knee landed or not. He would throw himself upon this giant like a ravenous wolf upon a bear.

The knee made contact and air exploded from his lungs in a great rush. Stunned, Khurash felt a gauntlet wrap around his right forearm and twist, seeking to wrench the axe from his grasp. The orc ground his teeth and bared his lips in a breathless snarl.

 

[Ormr]

The Long Knife planted itself deep into the Half-Giants leg above the knee, in the thigh and his mouth opened in a horrible roar as the pain of the wound shot through him even as his knee collided with the Orcs chest.

RAAAAAAAA!!!

Ormr's weight transitioned onto his left leg as he came out of the knee strike, pain still shooting through his right leg from the knife. Gritting his teeth together as he and the Orc were all but inches apart the Half-Giant tightened his hold on Khurash's forearm and threw his right shoulder forward hoping to seize the moment by swinging his right arm off his shoulder and driving the pommel of his sword into the side of the Orcs head like a hammer.

He'd follow through by whipping his left arm out in the process and turning his left foot to the outside as he threw his right shoulder forward so that he could attempt a pivot and try jerking the Orc off balance, sending him away and to the side while Ormr's hand raked up his forearm to the axe seeking to disarm him again.

The Half-Giant's thigh bled freely, a dark ichor spilled from the wound and he'd favor the opposing leg for now.

 

[Jason Chronicles]

Still without his wind, struggling to breathe, Khurash drug his knife down and out. Blood slickened his hand and he wobbled on his feet as the behemoth jerked on his arm. He caught motion out of the corner of his eye, flipped his knife around, and drove it up toward the incoming wrist. But not soon enough to stop the blow, only lessen it.

The pommel smashed into Khurash’s head and opened up a great gash that sheeted blood. Lights exploded in his vision and his ears rang violently. A lesser man’s skull might’ve cracked, but the orc warrior’s bones were thickly built. Stunned, he lost his grip on the axe, which was ripped from his fingers with ease.

Khurash stumbled backward, still clutching his knife, struggling to stay on his feet, blinking through hot blood streaming into his eyes, and still unable to breathe.

 

[Ormr]

The Long Knife pressed into Ormr's wrist, the gauntlet covering it providing some protection. It would be like stabbing into the thick hide of a bear there would be penetration but not nearly as deep as what would have been otherwise.

As Khurash stumbled away the Half-Giant flung his massive sword aside, lifting his right arm afterwards as he flexed his fingers and tested them. He could still move them but his grip wasn't as strong, ichor was felt hot on his skin beneath the gauntlet which ran to his forearm and soon it would leak from the underside of that.

Rage filled the Half-Giants eyes, he took a step forward then grimaced as he felt the wound on his leg sizzle with pain but gritting his teeth, biting down Ormr's fury knew no limits as he rushed Khurash. Charging the Orc, he was slower than he would have been if his leg didn't labor him but the adrenaline and heat of anger helped dull the pain considerably.

Leaping at Khurash, Ormr would literally attempt to bull rush the both of them onto the ground while he reached for the Orc with his right hand. While his grip wasn't as strong due to the wound Ormr attempted to press his palm over the knuckles of Khurash's lefthand so that he could use his arm to push it backwards and control it if the Orc attempted to stab. The Half-Giant's left hand would reach out to eclipse the Orc's skull, pushing back as he rushed to try and drive Khurash's skull down into the ground....

"FEEL YOUR BONES BREAK FILTH!!!!"

...if they did go to ground Ormr would attempt to mount Khurash so that he could continue driving his skull back into the ground.

 

[Kol]

A sharp whistle left Kol's lips.

The tone rang out and seemed to bounce through the decrepit ruin, echoing out as the only signal of attack. Within the instant of it's sound the three Skinwolves burst forward from their hidden places and rushed forward.

Each of them stood near as tall as Ormr, their mangled and manged flesh already soaked with the blood of Blight Orcs as they rushed forward and into the back of the Warg Riders that surrounded the Half-Giant and his foe.

From their throats cried the howl of wolves.

Kol stood from his own position, black flecks forming into the Rune Knife in his hands as he too dashed forward and plunged his blade through the throat of a confused orc. Blood dripped down the blade and onto his hand, life filling him.

A laughter erupted, though he was not sure if it was his own.

 

[Jason Chronicles]

A great rush of air finally filled Khurash's lungs and though it was but the harsh, blistered wind of the Blightlands, still it tasted as sweet to him in that moment as the cold mountain air of the Spine. But the half-giant would not give him a break. Even as Khurash blinked through the sheet of blood running into his eye, he saw Ormr charge, felt the earth tremble beneath the behemoth's feet, heard the bellow.

The half-giant reached for him and Khurash reached back. He knew even through the daze of his ringing ears that if Ormr pushed him to the ground then it would be the end of all things. The orc would not die in the dirt. He had fought too many battles and slain too many warriors. This could not be his end. He ground his teeth and his broad lips peeled back in a bloody grimace. As Ormr's hand wrapped around Khurash's fist, Khurash's other hand found the giant's shoulder and the orc jumped, letting his legs fly backward so that the half-giant met no resistance and the charge carried on. Khurash pushed down with his hand on Ormr's shoulder, hoping that the force of the charge and his own weight would eventually bear the half-giant to the ground, with Khurash on top.

Around them, snarling wargs and howling riders collided in a tangle of fur and fangs with the Skinwolves.

 

[Ormr]

Already pressing forward it would have been impossible for the Half-Giant to reverse his momentum. He would collide with Khurash, an odd grin of satisfaction painting itself across his features as he felt the Orc's hand find his shoulder and then the Orc sprawled backwards ensuring that the momentous charge would not plant him back into the earth. Narrowing his eyes the Half-Giant would have none of it though as he continued to press forth.

Ormr had been reaching for Khurash's head, seeking to plant a hand over his face when the Orc sprawled so the Half-Giant made the logical choice, he thrust his elbow backwards and swept his arm out in the process to catch the inside of the Orc's arm. The intent being that he would knock Khurash's arm away when he attempted to put pressure on his shoulder and force the Half-Giant down onto his stomach.

Instead with no pressure applied the Half-Giant, reeling forward for lack of opposition on the Orc's part would collide with him shoulder to shoulder with both their legs outstretched and extended behind them so that neither could gain the advantage overtop of the other. Maintaining the grip he'd established on the Orc's knifehand Ormr followed by bringing his left arm back around in a powerful uppercut that jerked up between the two men for Khurash's ribs, driving the bone knuckles of his gauntlet there before shoving away.

Attempting to create distance between the two the Half-Giant sought to right himself on a knee semi aware of the scene that played out around the two as Kol and the Skinwolves attacked....

"You fight well for an Orc."

....he would admit then, choosing to remaining on a knee. Flexing his right hands fingers again he could tell the wound was not terrible but the stab to the thigh he'd taken was much deeper, it bled more freely leaving crimson to leak from the entry point.

 

[Kol]

The skinwolves fought with no sense of strategy or tactic.

All they cared about was the thrill of death, the blood that washed over their flesh, and the rage that sank within their hearts. To them there was nothing else save for the battle in front of them, nothing save for the orcs being savaged.

They felt the sting of cuts, the brutal gashes that fell into their flesh, but none deterred them from their path. Tooth and claw found blood, death swam in the air, and ferocious howls echoed into the air as they continued their slaughter.

Kol barely glimpsed any of that of course.

He cut his way through the orcs, his Rune Knife glowing with a sickly black light as it sliced through the throat of a warg. Black hands of Abyss reached up from the ground as the Dark God's magic erupted from him, dragging warg and orc alike into the depths as what little life they had was dragged away.

Slowly The Sorcerer pressed forward.

 

[Jason Chronicles]

Khurash's feet came down into the bloodied soil beneath them and he dug in his heels as the half-giant lurched against him, as if they were two players in a game of head-ball testing their might against the other. Khurash was strong, yet he could not surpass the raw sinews of the towering Ormr. Just then, a powerful blow met his bare stomach, bone knuckles digging gashes even as the force of it made his ribs creak. He let out a grunt of pain and felt the blood trickling down his abdomen.

All around him, orcs died brave deaths against the skin walkers, howling defiance to the last with their mounts.

"You are a worthy foe," panted Khurash. "Maybe one day I will take your head. But not today."

He barked an order that rose above the fighting like a clarion call and suddenly the orcs still living reined in their wargs and drew back, opening up a gap between them and the skin walkers. Khurash wiped the back of his arm on his face, smearing away the blood streaming from the cut above his eye.

"Let us speak, so no more proud warriors die. Where do you travel in the barren lands? Who is this shaman with you that calls on the dark gods?"

 

[Ormr]

The Half-Giant remained on a knee. Drawing a thick digit across the wound dealt to his thigh he'd have grimaced as the ichor leaked from the wound. When the Orc called for a cessation of hostilities Ormr did not attack again . Instead he would hear what this Orc had to say.

Raising his hand he would have called loudly....

"Enough Kol!"

...his voice a deep resounding rumble as he called out to the Sorcerer in an effort to cease the bloodletting. The Battle had been a good one, Eogorath would be appeased.

Ormr, lifting himself back onto his feet would tower at his full height again and chuckle darkly as he considered the words of Khurash before he answered the Orc...

"We go south to the Drawa River. The Sorcerer will open up a path deeper into the Blightlands then."

...Ormr paused, even in contemplation he seemed to resonate a beastly aura...

"Eogorath tells me that if I travel at his side greater battles will be had. So far he has not been wrong."

...a predatory smile graced the Half-Giants features, perhaps he was speaking of Khurash just then as well as other bloodshed to come.

 

[Kol]

Kol himself stopped as soon as Ormr called out.

The half-giant's echoing voice boomed in his ear and his blade immediately stayed. An Orc on the ground in front of him trembled for a moment, grabbing at the dirt to quickly scramble away. Before he could stand though one of the Skinwolves caught him, massive claws rending flesh.

The Sorcerer cringed slightly, his fingers tightening on his dagger as he motioned with a hand. The whites of his eyes quickly grew, and an odd expression filtered over his features.

A strange guttural noise echoed from the throats of the Skinwolves. They seemed to freeze for half a second, their eyes growing to match Kol's own as they seemed to stumble. Slowly each of them came to a stop, blood still dripping from their forms.

For a moment they lingered, then Kol slowly walked up besides Ormr.

Each of the abominations followed in turnings, moving in half broken steps as though they were little more than marionettes.

 

[Jason Chronicles]

Khurash shifted uncomfortably, large lips set in a grimace as he watched the shaman. His head pounded, his ribs groaned at him like trees beneath a wind, but still he stood proud and faced his foes. His surviving warriors dragged themselves upright, or leaned tired on their wargs. The dead remained where they had fallen, clutching their weapons. They had died bravely, as warriors. What more could they have asked for?

A grunt acknowledged Ormr's words of praise.

"Then you go into the Ash King's lands, guarded by his sons of fire and black steel legions. All tribes there pay tribute to him. Those who do not hang from the walls of his fortress. Few are welcome in those lands." Khurash grinned bloodily, for he knew that he and the half-giant were already of a mind on this, like brother wolves.

Separate, the three of them were each powerful. Together? They could be a warband.

But what would the silent sorcerer say?

 

[Ormr]

A look of distant satisfaction touched the Half-Giants features when Khurash spoke of the Ash King and the Sons of Molthal. It would certainly not be a stretch to say that both he and the Orc were of a similar opinion on the matter. Lifting his right arm he'd test his grip, flexing his fingers while the blood beneath the gauntlet he wore felt sticky against his flesh then...

"When the Sorcerer has made a way deep into the Blight then we will strike as deeply as we can. The Sons of Molthal are weak pig spawn and they will be slain."

...there was some overconfidence in the rumble of Ormr's voice but the Half-Giant would not be dissuaded. No doubt Kol had wanted to raid further into the Blightlands for the sake of his people but Ormr had started to have other ideas....

"Our forces are not large but if we could slay the Ash King these lands would be ours to divide as we pleased."

...an ambitious, somewhat insane idea to be sure but it seemed perfectly credible to him. Why else would Eogorath put him on this path if not for one of the greatest battles of all.

The Half-Giant turned away to retrieve his sword, hefting it up over his shoulder so that he could sheath it over his back again while looking between the Orc and the Sorcerer...

"What do you think Kol? Do you think your Dark Gods would offer their aid in this?"

 

[Kol]

A dozen Cheshire grins appeared within the clearing. All of them wider than Kol had seen in decades. They seemed to stare down at him, each one whispering, each one adding the the symphony of words within his skull as the Giant and Orc made their bid for greatness.

Kol's white eyes seemed to vibrate for a second, thin lines of red appearing as the strain of keeping the Skin Wolves began to creep upon him. His lips thinned, and he slowly reached over to the curve of his knife. His arms ran over the edge, a deep cut spilling crimson onto the ground.

His eyes closed for a moment as he delves into the sea of voices.

"Yes." Kol offered finally as his arms lowered. The blade and wound trickled slowly with blood, though oddly enough the latter already began to slow. "They would see this done."

As would he. The Nordwiir had called out for a new home, they had sought a path from the Lost Isles. This would be it. This would be how he would bring them forth. A new land, a new place for his people.

The grins all around him seemed to widen. "First we carve a path into the his lands, and then we stain them with the Ash Kings blood."

As he spoke the three Skinwolves began to howl.

 

[Jason Chronicles]

The orcs looked to Khurash and he nodded. They beat swords on shields, fist on flesh. Their wargs pawed the ground and howled.

Khurash picked his axe up from the ground and raised it overhead, blood still streaming down his body. The orcs roared their approval.

“Let us hunt!”