Fable - Ask Border-Crossing through the Blightlands

[Shai'Rel]

The sun had just risen when Shai'Rel and her companion left their warm forest homes for the harsh, frigid badlands to the north. The path was well travelled by her kin, though traces of their passing are rarely noticed by the despoilers that called this land their home. Those that followed the trails back were never found. However it was normally at night when Shai'Rel and her sisters set out to collect the abandoned materials left behind by battles past, be it armor or swords. Anything the Y'Tor could melt down was taken.

Although that time was behind her now, as the aching mark on her face would remind her until the nerves heal. Though now that she was beyond home, she would keep her helmet on. They were headed to hostile lands now, the scent of grass and morning dew soon to be replaced by frozen wind and stale miasma. The river would not be too far. Once they cross that, then they'll arrive to the foraging grounds. Beyond that was left to the imagination. She and her sisters had never traveled beyond the battlegrounds, but she wouldn't be the first to do it either.

To reach the outsiders, they must follow the mountains through the Blightlands. After that trial, everything should be fine.

As the sound of the river faintly reached her ears, she turned to her companion. "We are close to the river now. Beyond that will be a dead land with remnants of ancient battles. It will be much colder there." Shai'Rel has her armor to warm her up, and the cowl and cloak she wore would help keep the heat in. Should the cold prove too much, she could have her weapon ignite to provide the warmth they'd both need for this journey.

Zu-Atso

 

[Zu-Atso]

Zu-Atso nodded, his gaze looking down upon the ally and friend. "battle and blood will keep us warm, Shai'Rel." he lifted up his sun-axe, the brilliant yellow gem shining brightly under the blackened blade. "And the sun-gem will save us from the worst of the cold." the gem, as if on command, glowed, its rays providing warmth and a bright light upon the Kroxan. As the first of the cold wings struck his body, he did not shiver or even gift it notice, for he knew his duty would truly begin. To purge what he could, to protect what he loved, and to bring the Shur safety for times to come.

He lifted his gaze forward. He would leave his home, this warmth and this jungle, for a cold and dead land, one of war and strife, of strength. He was nothing but the latter, he was not a shaman nor a taleweaver, what he is, is a warrior, a hunter, the maw that will consume the blight orcs and their wretched chains. His people would be slave to none, his Shur would be slave to none, and the wilds would be tamed by none.

 

[Shai'Rel]

As expected of a warrior, a little cold would do little to deter them. All the same, she would prefer to cross the river at its thinnest, which is why they were a bit of a distance away from the mountains. Then the plan was to follow the river up until they can get as close to the mountains and use it as a guide from there. They could not just risk cutting through the miles of flat land. They would be too exposed.

With the river on one side, that cuts the possibilities of ambushes by half, and they would still have fresh water and fish to feed themselves with. The mountainside may not be so lucky however, if it turns out that it wasn't as steep as the border with the Wilds.

"Careful of loose rocks on the riverbed," she cautioned as she pulled up her cloak and wrapped it around chest-height. She would try to keep it dry as she crossed. The water was only up to her stomach at its deepest, but her footing was sound. She would not need to worry about Zu-Atso's trek, unless he were to somehow lose his footing, which was unlikely given he was from the marshes. They've dealt with less stable ground than this.

 

[Zu-Atso]

the Kroxan cared little for a light stream, as he held his sun-axe at chest height, each step pushing through the water with ease as claws grabbed and held onto the riverbed. Although his loincloth would be wetted it did little to bother the titan, or more accurately little he showed, the river colder then most swamps and wetlands he moved through.

"Do you think the sun ever shines upon these cursed lands?" He asked, both himself and his companion. The wind and the water both seemed derived of the warmth of the world, derived like the inhabitants of the land. Would his gem be the only true light on the accursed earth and soil? He was unsure if the thought scared him, or if it brought an even greater purpose to this duty and trial.

He crossed the stream swiftly, lowering the gem slightly to warm and dry his feet and cloth, wanting to avoid any premature slowing of his movements. Shai'Rel had made an excellent choice, they would not need to worry of ambushes or attacks from all directions, but the mountain had its own issues. He was unsure if he could climb, should the orcs have positions high to ambush them with spear and stone, an ambush he could survive, but one that his companion might not.

 

[Shai'Rel]

"We never stayed long enough for the sun to rise. Would that our discovery may invite misfortune. They believe this battlefield is cursed. And when someone sets eyes upon us, we make sure to fortify that fear." Nonetheless, this place had its unnatural presences. What disaster did this place feel to taint the very air as such.

Her eyes passed over the ground, picked clean of all the metal implements, yet the debris from wooden crates and broken bodies long picked clean by the birds still littered. Craters in the grounds and raised earth were the only features that broke the flatness of this region, with trees dead or dying dotting the landscape.

"Encounters here are rare in the night. Though I suspect it will be more active in the daytime. But surely your shadow would be enough to deter the unsavory ones. If not, we'll only leave more pickings for my sisters when they come out to salvage their weapons."

 

[Zu-Atso]

he let out a chuckle, although it left him more akin a growl, his teeth revealing themselves as he opened his maw once more. "They will break upon me as winds break against this mountain." his tail lowered towards the ground, a toothy grin stuck on his face, one that soon faded as his eyes too scanned the barren land. "The blood that will flow into this earth... The shamans told me not if it would heal." he had hunted and he had slain, the blood that flowed through the marshes was as pure as the kills, free of taint and betrayal. But the spawn of this land, their blood was tainted, blighted like the lands. Only their blood was pure for certain on these lands, only the blood they shed could amount to any purification, But that much blood, no tribe could shed.

 

[Shai'Rel]

Her companion was enthusiastic with battle, which was one of the reasons why she approached his tribe for willing companions to join her outside the warmth of their homes. Though she couldn't wrap her head around their shamans' words, Shai'Rel could count on the warrior's ability to keep himself alive.

Shai'Rel walked in silence, wondering just how far they needed to go to find another tribe, as one way or another, they can gather some idea to where they could go or what to avoid. So far there was no evidence of outsiders on the path they've walked.

Though perhaps calling others outsiders would not be proper anymore since she would be the outsider in this region. Hours had passed and nothing of note happened. Just how far did this dead land stretch out for?

 

[Zu-Atso]

The silence that followed felt like hours, each step taking them through the dead land, yet it seemed as if they had not travelled at all, the blighted earth and cold mountain stretching and stretching and stretching on.

And then, the silence of the blightlands shattered, as war cries filled the air, and from the mountainside orcs emerged, and with them javelins, rocks and arrows soon filled the air. Primitive weapons, yet ever effective, even as Zu-Atso's scales took the impacts with stride, he could feel yet more metal bury itself between them, arrows and javelins finding their mark on their massive prey.

As Zu-Atso looked upwards, he could count seven of the tusked attackers, as five of them began charging down the mountain side with axes, clubs and cleavers.

The battle he had awaited, had finally arrived.