Open Chronicles Infestation | The Spine

[Hath Charosh]

Open to all orcs who want to do some orcish things.
Mabess

---

The Spine

Hath heard the spear hiss through the air just over his head. It wobbled through the air and struck the rocks ahead of him with enough force to shatter the shaft.

He skidded to a halt, turned and dropped to a knee to make his frame smaller. His bow came around, arrow already nocked. Red and black striped fletchings came up to just below the level of his eye as he sighted down the point. With a smooth release he sent the arrow flying.

One of the gnoll that had just raised his arm let his spear fall from his grip. The warrior looked down at the shaft protruding from just below his sternum before crumpling into a heap. The other gnoll barked and howled in anger. Hath counted at least four more. These ones had dull yellow fur with brown spots. It made them quite easy targets in the rocks. By contrast he wore furs that matched his surroundings and was covered in grey and black paint.

It didn't hide him well enough. He turned away from the missile he saw on his periphery, but felt its bite as the arrow cut into the gnarled muscle of his left bicep. Hath hoped it hadn't embedded in bone. Having an arrowhead removed from his shoulder blade had been one of the most traumatic experiences of his life.

The orc grunted in pain and slung his bow over his shoulder. As he turned to run he drew his short sword with his good arm.



It was nearly dawn of the following morning that he returned to the tribe they had found nestled in the mountains. Much of the warpaint was smeared down his face. He kept his fingers tight around a blood-stained bandage around his left arm. Having lost the gnolls, Hath had made the decision to remove the arrow. It was only his arm and hadn't struck bone. Fortunately it had also been a narrow point.

Orcs were hardy creatures. They didn't die of sickness just from a flesh wound often. However, he hoped one of the shamans had some animals to slaughter for their intestines to make some stitches.

When he found the leaders of the small tribe he pulled a pouch free from his belt and spilled its gruesome contents onto the ground. The little bundle of blood matted floor flopped over to reveal its shape: a gnoll's ear.

"Found them," he grunted. It wasn't a vindictive task to find their nest so that they could be forced to leave. It was simple survival. The area didn't have the resources to support both the orc tribe and a growing pack of gnoll.

 

[Mabess]

Only the flickering of the central firepit illuminated the area before the sun would coat the mountainside in fiery hues. Maskaroth was quiet at these hours. It as well, appeared rather vacant, with only two villagers out and about in the clear, while the others went out hunting or remained in their beds asleep.

Mabess was among the awake, standing beside a table in the open capital house that lay well in view of the whole village.

The large barghests that rested at the front of the house grew angsty. The chieftainess too rose her head and turned to Hath Charosh as he approached her plot.
Her view soon admiring the presented ear on the floor. If the bargests weren't tied, they would have lopped the ear off the floor.

Gnolls and Orcs were like wolves and cougars. They'd ravage each other's young in a breath's notice in ways to sabotage. It was the way of nature, it was just a matter of who would strike first. And for Mabess the lives of their young were too precious.

»Mmm...« she murmured. »We must strike fast.«

 

[J'Darak Moghahk]

The Spine

Through most of the night he had been tracking, reading the lay of the mountain side and valleys that snaked between, the Gnoll were cunning creatures and Moghahk knew he would need to be at his best not to lose the trail. From steep rocks to trickling streams he trudged, weaving and shifting in the darkness, stealthy despite his rather large size. The creatures in question, had stolen something from Moghahk and stealing something from Moghahk, was not a wise decision.

He planted the haft of his great-axe into the rock covered dirt by his side, crouched low with beady golden eyes fixated on the flickering flames of the den not too far down the valley, his thick fingers stroked a nearby boulder as he pondered his next actions. Far too many for him to fight alone, though he would never admit such things out loud.

The sound of baying and the eerie cackling that was rather signature of the Gnoll drew his attention, his nares flaring to take in the smell of both the night air and the stench of beasts. He moved like a shadow, a very large, very frightening shadow. The two Gnolls were digging into the carcass of a buck, a large one at that, making a bloody mess of its carcass. His carcass.

J'Darak scrunched his face in both disgust and anger, how dare these miserable creatures steal from him, how dare they feast on his meal. Creeping ever closer, he raised the black blade of Gja-Tok to his forehead and closed his eyes.
"Besa sria, kae kreamd." He spoke low, intimately to the axe-head, knocking it to his skull, before he stood and twirled the blade in both hands, stepping into the bushy clearing the beasts had decided to feast. Neither noticed the dark, lumbering figure as he advanced, neither noticed the raise of his axe and only one noticed when it came crashing down, cleaving the first Gnolls spine clean down the middle and splitting his body like firewood.

The second Gnoll only managed a single distressed bark before a hand was clamped firmly on it's maw, crushingly tight and a second hand was pressed to its throat, squeezing like a vice. Moghahk bared his teeth in a twisted grimace, saliva drooling from his over-sized teeth jutting from his lower jaw. If a Gnoll could feel fear, this one would have.
With a sickening crunching squelch, J'Darak tore the entire throat from the beast, discarding the twisting, writhing body to the side as it fought silently to breath with no means to do so.

The carcass, his carcass was ruined, torn and shredded, even he would not eat the scraps of lesser beasts. No, he had to take a new trophy, a new hunt. His beady golden gaze moved to the still struggling Gnoll, his lips twisting into a wolfish grin, before he ripped Gja-Tok from the back of the first Gnoll and advanced, an executioner to the dying.

Maskaroth

The warm, cascading rays of the fresh sun's dawn coated the mountainside and twinkled across the sparkling rivers and streams that ran through the spine. The fires of Maskaroth were still clear even with the rising light as Moghahk made his way along the trail, axe over one shoulder and the corpse of a Gnoll being dragged behind him in one hand by it's legs.

It was this sight that greeted the villagers who were awake, the Black Orc trudging his way towards the capital house, his teeth gnashing wetly, grinding out of habit. Once inside, he noted Hath Charosh had returned before him, clearly having gotten into some sort of scrap on his scout, much like Moghahk had himself. Grunting to catch the attention of the pair, he reached down to grab and slide the Gnoll carcass by the scruff of its neck to Mabess.

"Gots a lot of them, den down in the valley." He reported, spitting on the mutilated corpse at his feet; the gaping hole where its throat had been a clear indicator of how it died. "A couple hunting groups close to here, they come soon." He growled, a rope of saliva dripping from his teeth as he looked across to Charosh and gave the bloody bandage on his arm a testing prod of his finger out of curiosity.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath eyes that finger wearily. Hath was quite tall, but the orc it belonged to was far broader than he was. Under normal circumstances that wasn't necessarily reason not to snap that finger and kick off a fight he was almost certainly going to lose. If orcs didn't start scraps they knew they would lose there would be a lot less fighting when large groups of their kind assembled. There was balance in establishing the natural order. Orcs were respected for strength, but also their wisdom, their cunning. They were not respected for the amount of shining coins they owned.

In this instance Hath refrained from doing more than grunting and giving the finger a glare. There were gnolls nearby and Mabess wanted to deal with the problem soon. No point missing the fight for a squabble.

"Someone stitch this?" he asked, looking towards the shamans. If they had any magic to go with some stitches made from intestines or tendons then all the better. "Going to need more arrows," he muttered, feeling how light his quiver had become as he stood tall.

J'Darak Moghahk

 

[Mabess]

Mabess eyed J'Darak Moghahk, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was gritty, filled with subtle contempt.
»How fast are they on the move? We can't risk them discovering Maskaroth.«

»We prepared arrows... When the hunters return we should have plenty enough feathers for more if supplies run out.« Mabess would point at the hunting hut that lay just within reach. She then eyed Charosh and the elderly orc at her side in a way to guide his gaze to the elderly one. »Grosgoya will take care of you.«

The elderly she-orc, Grosgoya, soon rose her head at the mention of her name, she appeared shaky and as wrinkly as a crumbled towel, but her skill in treating wounds and the knowledge of herbs was invaluable to the tribe.
»Oheee heh heee, come here,« she wheezed while pointing with her finger at Hath Charosh. She would take care of his wound promptly on the spot.

 

[Ruzyr]

Maskaroth

Ruzyr looked at Grosgoya as she stood up next to him and walked towards Hath Charosh. He stared up at the clouds and seemed to concentrate. After a few seconds he spoke, to noone in particular: "It will rain within the hour". He focused his attention on Mabess.

"They won't be able to find any tracks running towards Maskaroth once it rains."

Ruzyr slowly stood up using his cane for support. He rummaged through his robes and pulled out two small water skins. Shakily he used the hand to support himself on his cane to grab a long ceremonial dagger from his robes and bring it to his other hand. After he cut his palm, thick crimson blood oozed out of the wound. Ruzyr grabbed the water skins and brought them up to his palm, letting blood drip in with the rest of the contents. As the blood poured out, you could see small lines of light run from his palm following the blood.

After Ruzyr corked the water skins, visibly shaking, he collapsed onto his knees with a loud grunt. Crawling back up using his cane, he walked towards Hath Charosh and J'Darak Moghahk. He looked weaker after what happened, barely managing to support himself on his cane.

"Here, take these."

He shook the skins, to mix the blood with the rest of the potion and threw them the rest of the way towards Hath and Moghahk. They slid across the dirt in front of them towards their feet.

"Drink them next time you hunt." He addressed Moghahk. "Bet you could rip a gnolls head off with your bare hands when you do."

He slowly walked back to where he was sitting before and sat back down while groaning and using his cane for support.

 

[J'Darak Moghahk]

J'Darak thought for a long moment, his features scrunched at the question. How fast were they moving, well he was not sure he could answer that particular question, having only seen the scouting parties at a distance and following no particular path, but he knew they would not be far behind, especially at the mention of her hunters in the area. His attention was drawn towards the elderly Orc as he spoke;

"They won't be able to find any tracks running towards Maskaroth once it rains."

Moghahk ground his teeth, perhaps the elderly shaman was right, but he knew better than to take that guess. Leaning against Gja-Tok as he looked Mabess up and down, his burly shoulder lifted, both in uncertainty at the elderly Orcs speculation and also partly dismissal.
"Gnoll already know where Maskaroth lies, hunters will leave tracks even in rain. They will wait for dark, when we sleep." He speculated himself, especially from the numbers he had seen and their seemingly organised approach to scouting and patrolling the many ravines and rock outcroppings. "I see den-camp, undefended, soft for the bite of Orc iron and tusk, we should crush them." He suggested, slapping a palm to his left pectoral with a heavy snarl, his deep 'brows growing heavier still.

It was only when the elderly Orc prepared a potion and skidded it across the floor, that Moghahk simmered down, crouching to take the skin between his fingers and eyeing it suspiciously, then the elder, before he placed it on his leather belt. He was fairly sure he could rip the head off of a Gnoll even without any fancy potion, but he would not pass up an opportunity to rip one in half.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Ruzyr Mabess J'Darak Moghahk

Hath's eyes went wide as Grosgoya rubbed some kind of salve into the wound. It hadn't closed yet, the off-white salve turning a shade closer to that of his blood. As he watched her trembling hands take a bone needle and thread it he wondered just how bad this stitching would be. Yet to his surprise the elderly healers hands became rock steady as the point was brought up to his skin. Even if there wasn't a battle coming an orc wouldn't ask for beer to numb the pain for something as minor as stitches.

Hath was stitched up nearly. It stung and the healing salve carried a pungent, acrid scent but it wasn't going to keep him out of the coming battle. If it opened up again then it opened up again.

Hath offered a shrug. The answer seemed simple to him, but that didn't mean it was necessarily the correct one. There was a reason he didn't lead a large number of orcs within his own tribe.

"Ambush and kill every last scout. Then route the rest of them," he offered.

 

[Mabess]

Mabess would ponder as she circled around the table like some kind of predator, only placing a sole finger upon the wooden surface as she drew an invisible map over it.
All from her head; Maskaroth was here, sightings were located down here and there...Her hunters were sent down river and due to come from this direction in a mere hour or two... Hmh...

The messenger buzzards anxiously kawed from their stand.​

Her eyes would snap from the table and switch between Ruzyn and J'Darak Moghahk as their exchange happened. She had more faith in the shaman than a mere warrior. But she could not ignore the information that Maskaroth was indeed found, in fact, her blood boiled.
"My hunters are due to return soon, it seems as we will fight in the covers of the rain. The ambush is on our side if we act quickly enough, but I fear to put Maskaroth in harm's way with all my warriors gone. We will have to be precise with our pursuers."

Grosgoya would then soon join Ruzyn again, sitting on the bench and quickly turning to her old shaky self. It was impressive how pedantic she was with her craft. (Though Mabess worried that the time would soon come where the elder would leave the material earth forever.)

Mabess' head would then slowly turn to Hath Charosh.
"Then ready your weapons and hon your steel, we attack as the showers begin." her voice was stern, now gazing upon all the able-bodied in the camp. Though she dared not send all her soldiers out. Perhaps the children, elders and some warriors will have to move further up the mountains to hide from any eventual ambush...yet they could stray into bands of gnolls away from the presumed safety of the village.

Mabess took a string and tied it at the end, adding coloured beads to it in various colours and patterns. Those versed in this language could read that this was a rallying call for a neighbouring tribe with whom the Ashlanders had close ties with.
She would tie this intricate message to a messenger buzzard's leg and let it perch on her arm before she would exit to the centre of the village and let the bird take off towards its destination.

 

[Scabhair]

Geysers of dirt clouded the air where paws slammed against the ground. Tufts of grass were torn clean from the earth as the great beast barreled around a twist in the canyon, narrowly missing the sharp teeth of the outcroppings.

Not a moment later a spear scraped against the face of the cwm. It was only the first of many to follow, rising along with the echoes of gnoll pack. Their tiny feet thundered along the dried basin, but they couldn’t match the long, swift stride of a gathamhr.

Five paces.

Scabhair exhaled.

Three.

She dug in for purchase.

One.

Drew the string to her cheek.

The first gnoll came shrieking around the corner.

twang

The arrow pierced his throat. His eyes bulged. His tongue flopped out of his mouth like a dead fish and then he tumbled backwards, tripping over the rest of the party as it poured out of the narrows.

She continued the rhythm of breath and release like clockwork, nocking the arrows straight from her right hand. The last gnoll managed to twist out of the way, earning himself an angry red line across the neck. Before she could pull another arrow out of the quiver, the screaming beast was upon her, its stone blade raised for a vengeful stab.

Just as suddenly, the weight of the imp disappeared. A great shadow leapt over her prone body, and then the gnoll was gone. She scrambled back onto her feet just in time to see him reduced to an afternoon snack for the great lion, who’d buried its muzzle in his guts as soon as she’d snapped his spine with an offhand swipe of her paw.

“Cearh. Tar.”

Inodeirr growled.

“Femhadh mae anghen arh ais.”

The beast ended up dragging the carcass with her the rest of the way. Relationships were all about compromise, apparently. Orcs usually compromised with the method of ‘the biggest stick’, but Scabhair was a woman of cultural progress.

She even scuffed her boots instead of tracking mud onto the dry dirt around the fire.

“We’ve a problem,” she announced without so much as a greeting. “They caught one of your hunters, so we’re blind in the east. I managed to lose the pack that were tracking me,” except for the corpse out front, obviously, “but I don’t know how much time we’ve left.”

She nodded to Hath and the double wardrobe of an orc. “Lend me a few of your archers and we can set up on the cliffs, keep any surprises at bay.”

 

[Hath Charosh]

Mabess J'Darak Moghahk Scabhair

Just a few minutes later.


Hath stayed quite still against the rock face. The grey warpaint had been reapplied over the strip that had come off his arm with the bandage. His bare torso blended into the mossy rocks behind him. He felt a cold drop of rain land on his shoulder. Not only would the rain wash away the paint, but even a well-waxed bowstring would succumb to the damp if it got heavy. The weather was turning faster than even the shamans had predicted.

It just needed to hold off a little longer. A flash of lightning cast long shadows through the canyon below and Hath caught sight of the gnoll party creeping forwards carefully. The thunder rolled over them just a few seconds later. He used it to cover a soft murmur to Scabhair.

"Moving targets, difficult light, bad weather. Almost as difficult as picking something off when mounted..." the challenge in his tone was clear.

The plan they had settled on was quite simple. The archers would pelt the gnolls from above and drive them back down the canyon. Back to where J'Darak Moghahk and the other fighters would be waiting. Then, under the cover of the approaching storm, they would head for the nest and drive away the remaining gnolls.

A faint whistle echoed off the rocks. Another drop of rain landed on his cheek. Hath took half a step forwards and drew. He ignored the pain in his left arm, bending forwards at the waist to line up his target. The arrow left his fingers with a soft twang. He just caught sight of the black and red fletchings in flight before the arrow thudded home. Coming down from above it struck a gnoll in the flesh between shoulder and neck.

Perhaps it was cheating to take the first shot before the pack scattered into the rocks, but there were plenty of them to despatch before the day was done. Another flash of lightning heralded even more rain and he wondered how long his bow would remain effective for.

 

[Graella]

The she-orc smiled. She'd finished making paint a few hours before. Using ash from the fires, she'd folded the lime based ash into their paint, resulting in a grey chalky goo that would cover their smell. An advantage that would aid in their scheme, though rain would result in the ash running. It mattered not, but that point, the war paint would be useless but as a fear tactic. She'd covered herself in the paint, head to toe before taking on her clothes and weapons. Leaving a large vat of the stuff with her mother Mabess to ensure that those who left would do so without a trail.

She curled her hand around her blade, watching as the other Orcs had come and brought their own findings, shortly after her return with Scabhair. Graella hadn't made much of a noise when the hunter had fallen, he was a smaller Orc, so his death was like the wolves picking off a weakling. She smiled at her mother, staying well enough away from the males Hath Charosh and J'darak Moghahk. She wasn't in the business of upsetting her mother, or putting her in a bad position around others. She greeted her mother with an affectionate bump of her head against Mabess' shoulder, turning to stand by her as the rest spoke. They were ready. It was time. She would go with the hunting group, ensure that the gnoll threat was eliminated.

The Spine-Gnoll encampment

Graella crouched in the brush, hair braided back to stay out of the way. Graella wasn't much of a patient one to sit with bow and arrow and aim and breathe. She was better with an axe and sword. Both of which she held in either hand currently. She waited. Waited.

Thunk!

There it was. The first shot, and soon a rain of arrows rained the Gnolls, driving them back. Graella waited a moment more, waited for the mad scramble and rush as gnolls tried to escape the deadly shower. Graella's first shot was a cleave to the skull of the first unsuspecting gnoll. She yanked the axe back, and kicked the gnoll to the ground, taking a second shot with her sword at the next oncoming gnoll. She didn't have to put as much power behind it, he ran his neck through onto her blade, without even realizing what had happened. The soft squelch sent a spurt of blood into a mist, and Graella grinned, teeth grit hard. She yanked her sword back, over her head in a wide arc and charged at a third gnoll. They tumbled, and she wrapped a leg around the gnoll's arm, dropping her sword and axe, she wrapped her hands around his wrist and pulled. The bones popped loudly and the gnoll screamed. She sat up and with all the force she could muster, she dropped her heel into his neck, crushing his throat. She twisted to her belly, grabbed her weapons and stood, jumping up quickly, but not quick enough. She felt angry fire tear through her shoulder. She hissed, turned towards the attacker and growled. With a shriek roar she attacked, axe raised, sword slashing. She crossed in deep, past his arms and sank axe into the crux of his neck. She plunged the blade into the soft abdomen of the creature. The gnoll coughed blood, and sputtered slowly with it's last breath, falling to the ground. Graella's chest heaved heavily, trying to catch her breath. She looked around her to see where she was needed yet.

 

[J'Darak Moghahk]

The plan was simple, not exactly what he had intended, but good enough. Standing side by side with his kin, a natural funnel in front of them to defend against the party of Gnoll and Gja-Tok in his grasp, all was good in the world. With a roll of his neck and shoulders, he flexed and stretched, before placing the base of his great-axe to the ground, bringing the flat of the black blade against his forehead, he closed his eyes and spoke low. "Besa omd saor, kaad brocd broda." With the words drifting on the wind, he tapped his forehead to the cold iron.
Shaking himself down, he gnashed his teeth, growled and grunted, before slamming his foot twice, pounding the left side of his chest repeatedly, he let the thoughts of Mages and Magic, the biting cold of blade against flesh rush across his mind, he remembered the feel of cutting down all of those who stood before him, remembered the flash of mage-fire and the incineration of his kin.

Snapping his beady golden gaze open as the first arrow was loosed, sending the Gnoll scattering, most towards the line of Orcs ready and waiting with their blades. Moghahk roared, saliva roping from his jaws, frothing at the corners of his mouth, veins pushed against his skin and all he could think about, was killing each and every last one of the enemy before him.
His berserk rage barely noted friend from foe, shunting two Orcs aside as the first blow was dealt by the Chieftains daughter, leaping like a banshee, another bellowing cry echoed forth from the beast, Gja-Tok falling forth in a cascade that could not be stopped.
Beneath the blade, a Gnoll lifted a makeshift wooden and hide shield, yelping in surprise as the axe cut straight through, cleaving the creature's arm in two, before burying itself in his chest. Ripping the axe free, J'Darak shunted another Gnoll aside, into the waiting spear of a fellow Orc, a third Gnoll was torn asunder as the bite of the black blade found it's mark, eviscerating, the creatures organs coating the floor before it had even had a chance to die.

On and on he surged, axe ripping, tearing, his teeth sinking into flesh as Gnoll after Gnoll were dispatched before his rage. His latest victim was momentarily spared, the axe being raised to be it's executioner, only for the whistle and thud of an arrow to embed itself into Moghahk's shoulder, grunting low and taking a single step back, he eyed the shaft, breaking it halfway to the head.
At his feet the Gnoll had taken advantage of the moment, plunging it's spear desperately to the black orc's abdomen, feeling the cold sink of the blade, Moghahk roared in rage, swatting the spear aside and grasping the Gnoll's muzzle between his vice like grip, raising the creature fully off of the floor, he plunged Gja-Tok into it's chest, before he tore the spike down from chest to pelvis, spilling the creature at his feet, before discarding it to the side, narrowly ducking another strike aimed at his head from another. He responded in kind with a quick slash of the great axe's spiked pommel, ripping the throat open.

Raising Gja-Tok above his head, he roared once more, voice guttural, booming around the ridge and mixing with the sounds of battle. Blood caked his grey hide, both his and Gnoll-blood, slices and wounds covered his rippling form and with another almighty roar, he slammed Gja-Tok down onto a Gnoll who had one of his kin on the backfoot. It's skull split right down the halfway point of it's muzzle, gore spilling from the open face.
A second Gnoll was caught by it's throat and within moments it's head was torn clean from it's neck. Moghahk lifted the head high, slamming Gja-Tok to his chest and bellowed like a creature of nightmares.

"Kerr srak orr, saor srak orr, rev sraer kdirrk kruk sraer budeak!"
"Kill them all, tear them all, rip their skulls from their bodies!"

Mabess | Hath Charosh | Graella | Scabhair | Ruzyr

 

[Mabess]

Her heart stung as she heard of her hunter. Every member was precious to the tribe. Every single one. Mabess commanded. "It is a shame...If possible retrieve him alive if it is not too late."

As the hunters returned and the weather began to worsen, she would start to rouse the others awake.
The able bodied warriors were split and assigned to accompany Scabhair, J'Darak and Hath as asked, while she herself took two close hunters with with her for she would lead the elderly, the children and the injured higher up the mountains where the gnolls rarely went.
Mabess would give Graella a loving hair rub as the youth brushed against her. "Take care my darling cub."


She rallied the noncombatants and mounted her barghest. With two hunters in tow, they would scout the mountain path ahead of them.
Mabess would only return to the main fight once she was sure they were safe.

 

[Scabhair]

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays a proper orc from a challenge. Scabhair flashed a pale grin at her fellow hunter, left hand firmly wrapped round her bow whilst she palmed four arrows with her right. There was no need to voice her agreement, and no time for it besides – Hath felled the first gnoll, and the band below scattered like sheep before wolves.

After that it was a matter of some swiftness and plenty of luck. The fighters crashed into the ebbing frontline of the gnolls while arrows rained down on their rear. Plenty landed in the mud as the critters dashed to and fro, cowering behind the boulders at the foot of the cliffs. All the while the storm above them rumbled louder and louder, soaking skin, leather and fur.

Another scream echoed through the ravine as the large shadow of J'Darak Moghahk barrelled through the attackers as if they weren’t there. She nocked an arrow, aimed, and released. Instead of the satisfying thunk of iron in flesh, Scabhair heard the tell-tale snap of a gone string. A moment later pain bloomed across her forearm as a razor-thin cut pearled with beads of red.

“Shite.” She ducked behind a rock of her own, tilting the bow to examine the damage. The limbs seemed to be alright, but it was difficult to tell between the intermittent bolts of lightning. She slotted it back into the quiver best as she could now that it was unbent, unfastened the lot, draped it over with her fur coat, and sprang down the slope with axe and shield in hand.

Couldn’t let Hath get too far ahead now.

Mabess | Hath Charosh | Graella | J'Darak Moghahk | Ruzyr

 

[Hath Charosh]

The camouflage paint now streaked down acrossbhis chest as the cold rain pelted his skin. Another flash of lightning and Hath momentarily lost the bead on his target. His second arrow went wide as he heard the telltale crack of a bow being dry fired. Not dry, he realised as he glanced across his shoulder, the string had gone. At least the bow was in one piece. He grumbled a complaint; a fair contest ruined by luck.

The rest of the warband was charging up the ravine already. He nicked and loosed one more arrow that struck a gnoll in the thigh.

With the other orcs closing and the rain hammering down he wouldn't get many shots off. Scabhair was probably right not to string a spare bow. One final arrow finished the gnashing gnoll before Scabhair could get an easy kill on the tally.

Hath left his bow strung behind a rock. He slid a knife and shortsword into his belt and took up his axe. Armour would have been better than paint, but there wasn't the time before he had to start picking a path down into the ravine after Scabhair.

 

[J'Darak Moghahk]

The rain lashed, lightning cut arcing swathes through the night sky, illuminating glistening fur and flesh, blood and mud. Moghahk loved every second of it, the shouts of combat, the clash of blades, the whistle of arrows. He was enraged, an unstoppable force, his axe was his purpose and the Gnolls were the end of that purpose. Cleaving, slashing, tearing limb from limb as Gnoll after Gnoll fell, their blades slicing his flesh but only fueling the boiling heat in his mind, raw muscle and Orcish tenacity embodied.
Gja-Tok sunk into the chest of a Gnoll in one mighty swing, launching the creature up and off, watching it sail over the melee and smash into a group of both friend and foe, it meant very little to J'Darak however, Orcs around him could tell, keeping a wide birth of the thrashing monstrosity lest they too be felled by the black axe.

What little of his mind remained focused for a moment, a moment was all he needed, he could see it now, a Gnoll was charging with a deep hate, a seething passion with spear-outstretched, it's sole aim to spear the she-orc before it whilst her guard was down, preoccupied with another Gnoll. No one else noticed it, but Moghahk did, he noticed and it served a new purpose for Gja-Tok, a new hunger.
J'Darak charged, like an Auroch defending a member of it's herd, like an Orc defending a member of his clan. He had no connection to these people, but an Orc was an Orc, a brother and a sister, a fellow member of his kin. With an almighty spittle flecked roar, he surged past Graella like a maelstrom.

The bite of the spear against his side was felt, but it did not falter the black orc from his focus, the Gnoll barked in surprise and was cut short by the blade of Gja-Tok, cleaving the creature's throat clean through and then more, lopping the head from neck, followed by the heavy smash of the shaft against the now headless creatures chest, sending the body barreling back into a group of three Gnolls just before both Hath Charosh and Scabhair joined the fray.

His roar was heavy, deep, beastly as he set his beady golden gaze on the pair, for a moment it almost looked as though he would attack them too, but some side of him knew they were friends and instead his rage was diverted, cleaving a Gnoll to his side, eviscerating the poor creature, as he surged forth into another group of the disgusting, matted creatures.

 

[Graella]

Graella yelped as the large black Orc charged, focused not on the Gnoll attacker but the fierce battle-crazed male. She leaped out of the way, confused for a moment. It wasn't until he engaged the Spear wielding Gnoll that she realized what he'd done. He'd protected her. From death surely. She roared and attacked a Gnoll, aiming to hit her with his own spear when she knocked the haft with a sharp quick beat of the dull edge of her blade and slammed the axe in her other hand into his ribs, throwing her body weight into the swing, she could feel the crunch of ribs as it sank home. Her mouth twisted into a snarl, tusks baring. The gnoll fell before her and she turned to watch J'Darak bull rush away in a fury after lopping the head off the the gnoll. She fell back into the fray, working through the gnolls that remained. Cutting, slashing and smashing through several gnolls.

The slash in her shoulder burned as sweat collected and fell from her. The salts causing the burn to become a bit more intense. She smiled. Pain was a reminder you were alive. Something she very much enjoyed being. Alive. She paused, hoping that her mother had gotten everyone out of the way of the fight as best she could. Hoping she'd see her mother soon. Graella swiped a grimy hand across her brow. She rolled to dodge an incoming attack, and snarled at the new gnoll attacker. She crouched and began to circle the gnoll, he did the same and both began to twirl around the other in a death dance. She batted his spear with her sword, grunting, and growling. Mind games. She batted his spear again. And when he flinched, she attacked. She got inside the gnoll's guard, and slammed her blade down on the inner elbow of the creature. It screamed and she head butted the beast.

Mabess | Hath Charosh | Graella | J'Darak Moghahk | Ruzyr | Scabhair

 

[Mabess]

The transition from rain to storm bore no good news for Mabess. The plan to relocate her people further up the slope was soon changed into a different direction... If the gnolls would not take them, then the mountain would.


The chieftain swayed her arm as a signal to change direction; and whoever was with her, mostly children, adults, and two other huntresses would follow her further along the ridge. Some hushed complaining and worrying were heard here and there, but most people kept quiet for they dared not reveal their location to the opposing forces.
As the rain continued and the leaves of the floor were growing more and more saturated with water, more and more covered in mud, it only became harder to progress further. The ashen paint upon their skin too slowly began to melt away by the rain as well. It gave them good scent coverage while it lasted, but now stealth no longer was on their side.

»Hush,« one of the huntresses, Ubabe spoke as she lowered herself. The only other pack beast, a barghest appeared to be on high alert. It sniffed the air and ground and its ears were erect. Everyone followed suit and looked around cautiously.

And suddenly three gnolls charged towards them. An anticipated ambush, but an attack nonetheless by hat appeared to be one of the many scouting divisions sent out.

The huntresses were anxious to move, but Mabess soon dissapatedany will to move as she firmly spoke out. »Don't scatter, stay together.«
One of the three gnolls slipped three meters from the crowd and slid across the ground right onto the readied spear of Sheeha. »Grr, vile vermin,« growled the huntress.
The biggest of the gnolls, a pale gnoll charged at Mabess, but a single swipe from her ash leopard sent the beast flying down the hillside. The pale gnoll unable to reach out for a root before their body disappeared past the cliff and only it's shrieking yowl was heard, which too slowly waned away.
The third, however, changed it's mind and scattered away, constantly slipping over the wet forest floor. Ubabe who rode the barghest quickly caught up to him, the canine beast grabbed the gnoll by the back and violently tossed it around until life left the corpse. »There is no escape.«

Mabess cautiously gazed around the forest, everyone had gone hush and observed the surrounding land. In the mean time, the noncombatants would calm their nerves. The clearest sign of safety was when the two pack beasts calmed down. »Let's move,« Mabess swayed her arm again, leading the noncombatants onward.

Hath Charosh | J'Darak Moghahk | Ruzyr | Scabhair | Graella

 

[Hath Charosh]

Scabhair Mabess Graella J'Darak Moghahk

A deluge of rain came down. Footing became treacherous as it streamed down the slope and ran down the centre of the ravine. Hath nearly slipped and cracked his head on a rock. He found himself increasingly concerned with Scabhair's opinion of himself and losing this little contest by tripping would probably put more of a dent in that than his head.

Pushing himself back to his feet his hands tightened around the handle of his axe, snarling in frustration. He wasn't given much of a chance to get his balance set. A gnoll stalked towards him with purpose.

This one was taller than the others and more strikingly he carried a steel sword and had several ill-fitting pieces of armour strapped to his body. Hath doubted he could convince Scabhair to count this one twice. It gave her a serious opportunity to catch up.

The gnoll lunged with a testing strike, forcing Hath to bring his axe across his body and take a step back. Couldn't the hugr black orc have faced this one? The madness in his eyes had convinced Hath that he was actually going to turn that rage on his fellow orcs until sated.

The gnoll continued to probe with his sword, keeping Hath's axe head away from a threatening position. This one knew how to fight and Hath had paint running down his bare chest instead of some armour. The gnoll even stepped sideways to keep Hath from taking higher ground.

Coming in fierce, the gnoll went through a routine of cuts and strikes that forced Hath back even further. The gnoll's bright eyes followed the head of his axe. They didn't see him dig his toes into the soggy ground before flicking up a ball of mud. Nor did they see the other hand of the axe's long handle come around. With a loud clack the haft struck the gnoll's jaw.

Hath took another pace back to give himself the advantage in spacing and swung hard. The gnoll brought up his sword but it did little to arrest the momentum of the axe as it fell, cleaving deep into the neck. The gnoll howls and span away, but it was too late. It scratched at blood matted fur and slipped.

Hath placed his boot in the middle of its back and brought his axe down once more to finish the job. Looking around he saw that the fighting was almost done. That had been close. There was no point worrying about that. Every fight was brief and ended with a death. He held no illusions about his mortality. One day he would lose and his spirit would leave on the wind.

At least it hadn't happened by tripping up in the mud.

 

[Nagora]

Nagora was one of the warriors that had found alongside the likes of J'Darak Moghahk, Hath Chorosh and Scabhair. She was every much a warrior like them and the rain was doing nothing to dampen her spirits. The archers may be having problems with their bows, but she had nothing to worry about with her twin axes in her hands. She relished the joys and delights of combat, soaking up every second of it, from the shouts and cries of battle to the splitting of limbs and the decapitation of heads. The fact that they were doing it to gnolls made it all the more better. She never did like Gnolls, and the twin Gnoll-skulls hanging at her belt shook with a rustle as though making a sign to recognise that fact.

Moghahk was a rampaging berserking champion in his own right, taking down three-four Gnolls for every two she split open with her axes. The black orc was certainly having fun, she mused. Nagora spun in a deadly whirlwind of axes as she chopped off a Gnoll's arm that still clung onto a crudely-forged sword usefully before the other axe landed on his legs, effectively disabling the pathetic creature as it was left limbless by her merciless strikes. Despite how many of these sickening vermin her fellow brothers and sisters had exterminated, they seemed to be no end to them.

While her warcry was no where as intimidating and beastly as Moghahk's, it was still plenty enough to frighten more than several of the Gnolls who began yelping and tittering in that awful way they do whenever they got the jitters. She followed the charge after the massive Black Orc, cleaving and chopping her way around as she followed in the footsteps of the champion. Nagora gave a cry of pain when she felt a sting of pain when she turned to glance at the offending direction only to see a nasty little Gnoll wearing an awfully misfitting helmet on its misshapen head who had just managed to get an arrow into her side. Breaking the tail of the arrow, she swiftly decapitate the pathetic creature, the helmet no more use than it could have been anyway from the way it wore the flimsy excuse of an headgear.

J'Darak Moghahk | @Hath Chorosh | Scabhair | Mabess | Graella |

 

[Scabhair]

The constant, lethal danger of open combat wasn’t her favourite feeling in the world. Even the best of fighters could be felled by a lucky strike, by a stupid mistake, by a wayward arrow. Though there were no certainties in life, there were fewer still in battle; Scabhair appreciated her certainties.

Nonetheless, she appreciated battle all the same. It brought with it a rare clarity of mind that she couldn’t find anywhere else. Her thoughts always raced, following threads, observing, questioning, wondering.

When blades spat sparks into the rain and quarrels whistled past, there was no time for any of that. Her existence was reduced to the aching of muscles, to the sharp sting of a breath drawn short, to the burn of an old wound on her arm.

She shoved a crude spear aside, pinned it to the canyon wall with her shield, and sank her axe clean into the pit between clavicle and shoulder. The gnoll crumpled with a wet whimper as she jerked her weapon out of his leaking lungs and dragged new air into her own.

It was over.

Even as raindrops whipped the heat from her skin, Scabhair closed her eyes and turned her face skyward. The sweat and blood would soon mingle with the mud, feeding new growth as spring finally conquered the lower reaches of the Spine.

As her heart ceased its gallop behind her ribs, the orc slowly began to pick her way across the waste of life. Words seemed misshapen in her throat – she spat out a tuft of gnoll fur and tried again.

“We should go check if the tribe is alright.”

Hath Charosh | Mabess | Graella | J'Darak Moghahk | Nagora

 

[Mabess]

As time passed the valiant warriors were surely done. But mabess would not risk it.
But luck would soon shine upon her.

»Dormak Ironside? Good to see you brother,« Mabess waved to the orc chieftain (Who was in fact not her brother) of the tribe which she summoned at the start of this ordeal.

»We came as quickly as we could. We could not spare having this menace spread further north into our turf,« Dormak spoke as her rose a gnoll head. The soldiers painted in black and white rose their share of trophies as well. »The bounty was grand, we picked off any scouts and individual groups that were about.«

»In the safety of numbers we should head back to Maskaroth, I am weary at what state my remaining soldiers are at. Hopefully the gnolls have been fully eradicated.«

With other brief exchanges the strenghtned troop would slowly head back to Mashkaroth, hopefully not infested in gnolls.

 

[Hath Charosh]

A short while later and the orcs marched back up the slope after the tribe. It was slow going. The rain was still coming down hard and every member was either carrying wounds or carrying a grisly cargo.

Hath had three gnoll pelts over one shoulder. Between them they had several gnoll legs to be cooked. It wasn't the best meat and was certainly too tough for his liking without some cooking.

"Only managed three," he murmured to Scabhair hopefully out of earshot of the others. The sudden rain had put an end to his archery, dangerous terrain and a well armed gnoll had slowly him down with the axe. Not an impressive tally for comparison. Especially when he'd seen the black orc barrel through as many at a time more than once.

Hopefully they would meet the rest of the tribe soon. Most of the paint had washed off and even as the rain died out a cold wind was whipping in from the north west. With any luck the rain would end and they could set some fires. Hath hoped they had enough herbs or spices to make gnoll marginally more pleasant to eat.

 

[Graella]

Graella was panting when the fighting ceased, the strangled sound of the very last Gnoll breathing his very last breath echoing in the almost surreal stillness. She dropped to her knees in the blood and viscera on the churned mud and muck. Trying to catch her air. She sat back on her ankles, her arms felt dead, like useless snakes hanging from her torsos. She was sure that if the berserking black orc came her way, she'd have no energy to get up and avoid him. She sat still, trying to regain her energy and strength, rivulets of rain water cleaning away the filth of the fight. Her black hair was thick and matted close to her skull, pieces of flesh stuck in the tangles. Mother would fuss at her, but secretly she'd be proud. Graella's tusks were bared as she sucked in great lungfuls of air, licking her lips of blood and rain water. Happy that at least they had something cool to whet their mouths.

She pulled her legs out from under her, straining because the muck had sealed around her. She chuckled, removing herself from the ground's greedy grasp. Her shoulder stung, and she had bumps and bruises, cuts and scrapes all over her, but the bit that hurt the worst was the shoulder, where the broken shaft of an arrow had sunk down into the soft spot before the ball joint of the shoulder and arm. She frowned. That would not be fun to remove. She'd wait for the healer. If it bled out here in the muck, no doubt it would fester and she would die. Better to leave it be for now.

Graella broke a finger off the last Gnoll she'd killed and braided it into her hair before slogging off with the others, curious to see where her mama had gotten off to.