Open Chronicles Long Way Round: Berry Bad Behaviour

[Bruk]

A few moons had passed since Bruk had emerged from the Ixchel Wilds.

Having followed the guiding lights of the forest the Orc had eventually found his way out of the dense brush (minus one brother) and onto more commonly walked trails. There were questions to be had about the legitimacy of said guiding lights. Were they real? Was Bruk really the Guardian of the Forest? Or was it all just some kind of feverish hallucination brought on by rampant flower eating? I mean, I know what looks like the obvious choice there, but still...

...you never know.

His new quest as nature's chosen warrior was still branded so fresh across his mind that you could practically still see the burning embers in his eyes. It didn't matter if it wasn't real because Bruk believed it (and Bruk still believed in the Tusk Fairy) and that was all that counted in his mind.

So where was his new quest taking him? Where did the map marker lay? Well, uh, there wasn't one. After leaving the forest he had just picked a direction and started walking. There was no North, East, South or West, only the way that he had decided to go (the way that the spirits had deemed to guide him if one had to guess), and Bruk was content in that. He slept out in the open, he ate whatever he could scavenge and he defecated freely, as what nature intended.

He had stopped for rest by a small canal that was far removed from its origins at the base of the Spine. He had to look for quite some time to find a location that wasn't too wet and squelchy for a nap. A damp Orc is a sad Orc after all. No, his chosen spot was fairly solid, a smattering of trees for cover, water to drink and well, what else did you need?

Probably food come to think of it.

Ah! But as nature's chosen hero it was provided for him! Weeds, grasses, flowers and even a few berries were dotted around the ground and in the trees! It was a veritable feast! The tree berries, of course, were his first choice, a sweet treat perhaps before a nice peaceful nap and so Bruk began to climb the tree, grunting heavily as he did so.

Yes, it was as elegant as it sounded.

 

[Nayella]

Nayella walked.

It was all that she seemed to have been doing as of late; walking. That fact alone was a torture that she could hardly commend with. Her feet were sore, the boots she'd stolen from Elbion were all but worn through, and slowly she was starting to wonder if her legs would soon stop carrying her forward at all.

Yet her path had taken her far.

Elbion now lay thousands of miles behind her, and the mage-hunters that had been at her back for months now had not been seen in what seemed like weeks. She wondered if that was a coincidence, if they were simply lurkin right behind her or had truly moved on.

The With did not know.

Still, a moment of rest wouldn't be too bad.

Not this far away, not after she had walked all of this way. Yes. That was what she needed, just a moment of rest.

A passing second to sit. Nayella let out a deep breath, her head shaking slightly as she cut from the path within the forest and headed towards the sound of a nearby stream.

 

[Bruk]

An Orc in a tree, now that was a sight to see.

What next, Humans living in peace? Elves not being arseholes? It seemed at this point that anything was possible. Some bark was lost in Bruk's endeavour, and a few branches perished in his conquest but after about five minutes of awkward climbing, grappling and adjusting he had happily lodged himself within the tree and within reaching distance of the berries.

“WAT BRUK GOTS 'ERE!”

They were large for berries, each one approximately the size of the end of Bruk's thumb. The skin upon them was a dark shade of green and so smooth that they almost appeared glass-like and they did not grow in clusters together but rather each grew individually, accompanied by a singular thick and dark waxy leaf.

And Bruk tried, he tried so hard to take some kind of mental note of their description, but his limited mental capacity and hunger took command over his priorities.

As delicately as he could the Orc plucked a singular berry and popped it into his open maw. There was an initial pop of a rather sour juice as he bit down, then followed by the taste of extremely sour flesh that caused Bruk's face to pucker in a manner that would have terrified both children and the elderly.

Not too bad, truth be told. Not quite the loving embrace of fresh meat but hey, this was nature's bounty and he wasn't about to be an ingrate.

Next he tried the berry's leaf.

It tasted like a waxy leaf.

Happy to carry on eating the berries, Bruk happily continued his meal. Plucking berries and eating each one in a different way, his face contorting with each one. He tried sucking on the next one. Then he attempted to slowly peel the one after that in his mouth with his teeth. The third he squashed with his tongue. Eventually, he did run out of individual ways to eat them and resorted to simply stuffing them into his face at a rate of knots, causing the tree to rustle with his movements.

It brought him a strange amount of joy and he chuckled to himself as he ate. Evidently pleased as punch he began to sing a jaunty wee song to himself.

“BRUK SO SMARTS!

HE CLIMB DA TREE!

HE EAT DA BERRIES!

DAT NATURE GIVE!

HE EAT DEM ALL!

AN' FEEL ALL FULL!

DEN GO TO SLEEP!"

It would surely shoot to number one in the charts.

 

[Nayella]

Nayella cringed as she hear the caterwauling of an Orc without a sense of tune. One hand instantly shot to her ear, the other raised glowing with a pale green light.

Her face morphed into a grimace, the sounds of Bruk echoing down from the tree tops and touching her ears. The Blight Witch scowled, her eyes darting through the woods as she tried her best to locate the source of the sounds.

Her gaze shifted in desperation, not finding the Orc as his green flesh hid him among the trees.

"SILENCE!" Her voice boomed out within the woods.

There was no magic behind the command, no word of power, the only thing that lay behind the call was absolute anger and annoyance.

This was not some tavern inn with a whore singing on the table, this was not Alliria. This was a forest. It was supposed to be peaceful, calm. Not this racket.

 

[Bruk]

When a very rude voice erupted and ruined his jovial song, a brief flash of hurt appeared upon Bruk's face. For being such a grizzled mass of scars, it was actually quite a tragic expression, akin to the family dog running up to get petted and being completely ignored. Despite that, he was not, in fact, a lovable family pet but a particularly large and violent Orc.

“BRUK CAN SING IF WANT!” He retorted rather childishly, not having much cranial input between words thought and words spoken.

There were a few grunts and sounds of many more branches being broken as the Orc attempted to dislodge himself from his spot in the tree (he was quite wedged in). Eventually, after a few awkward moments, he had freed himself and decidedly leapt out of the tree and onto the ground.

His landing wasn't too graceful, but it also wasn't on his head, so you know, you take the wins where you can get them.

While one might have expected a merry sing-song Orc to look a certain way, Bruk really didn't live up to that standard. As he stood to his full height, he observed the very rude woman, his hang-dog expression replaced by a savage gaze. What he lacked in height (for an Orc, mind you) he made up in width. An absolute gnarled tank of a being. Every patch of flesh on display seemed to have been scarred in some manner, indicating that violence was his absolute way of life and his eyes burned with utter fury.

Although in his experience, impolite women were never impressed by grizzled savages.

“WHO YOU TO SAY WHO CAN SING AN WHO NOT?!” Bruk roared, pointing an accusatory green finger squarely at the woman.

 

[Nayella]

The Witch glared at the Orc.

It was not the first time she had seen one of his kind, though it was the first meeting of one with such a...stature. She stared the creature down, her fingers curling.

Nayella was not a large woman, in fact by even human standards she was on the smaller side. Her people hailed from a chain of islands in the far north, above the continents and in the sea where even the Merchants of Alliria did not travel.

When the Orc roared at her she couldn't help but flinch slightly.

When such a beast screamed it was difficult not to be taken aback, but Nayella managed to hold her ground at the very least.

Her fingers curled, an odd pale green floating around her palms as magic began to roil within her veins. She did her best to keep her face impassive, her voice not booming this time, though not meek by any measure of the word. "Someone who wants the peace of the forest not the gnarled sounds of broken rocks."

 

[Bruk]

Bruk scoffed at her reply, the rusty cogs in his brain attempting to grind together to come up with some kind of retort. It was a slow-going process. He just kind of stood there awkwardly as he tried to think. Yeah, a real slow-going process. So anyway, how are you? Have you been up to anything interesting lately? Oh neat, really? How many sweaters? My gosh, what a predicament old Margaret has gotten herself into ag-

“ROCKS ARE DA FOREST TOO!”

I guess it was an answer? I think? Citation needed?

“IF YOU WAS MORE IN TOON WIF NATURE YOU BE ABLE TO HEAR IT BETTA!”

Hey, that was kinda better. Almost viable. I mean it was mostly insulting but wasn't that how most arguments were really won? Your honour, I rest my case.

“HCCCCHHKK!”

Like a cat with a hairball, Bruk stopped for a moment and started making strange raspy horking noises, his wide tongue sticking out as his grizzled face bore a disgusted expression. The very sour berry flavour making a hard resurgence within his mouth. This stretched over a few awkward seconds as the Orc seemed adamant on regurgitating something. Nothing came up, however.

“HHCCHHKK!”

Returning attention to the tiny woman, his pin-prick eyes gave her a good strong once over but then paused, hovering around her hands. Bruk suddenly looked rather concerned. Were her hands supposed to glow?

“BRUK FINK UR HANDS GOT DA SICKS!”

 

[Nayella]

Nayella outright recoiled in disgust as she watched the monster try to hack something up like a cat with hair stuck in it's throat. A scowl crossed her features and her nose crinkled slightly as the scent of rotten...fruit reached her nostrils.

It was so bad that she almost threw up. "Ugh."

The Blight Witch couldn't help the audible note of disgust leaving her. Goosebumps ran across her skin, and for a moment the magic around her palms faltered ever so slightly. When the creature turned to her once more however the glow returned fully.

Her palms curled.

"Stop." Nayella said agitated. "Yelling."

She spoke in a low simmer now.

This creature had gotten on her nerves from the start, and every word it spoke just made it worse and worse. Not to mention the awful retching. "What are you doing here?"

 

[Bruk]

Yelling?

“BUT BRUK NOT YELLING!” The Orc responded, quite flabbergasted at her request.

It really confused Bruk. He hadn't been truly yelling, a raised voice perhaps but the miserable woman didn't understand the concept of his yelling. His features were clearly scrunched in confusion at this point. Was he supposed to show her what his yelling was actually like? Wait, no. Engage brain. She was asking him to stop yelling.

So that meant...

...don't yell?

Had she not asked a follow up question Bruk would have likely considered violence as the next option, given that she had been and was continuing to be so rude. However there were no signs from the forest spirits that she was an enemy to be destroyed and quite frankly he was beginning to feel a touch sluggish. Probably just needing a nap.

“BRUK ON QUEST FROM NATURE! BRUK DA GUARDIAN OF DA FOREST!” He yelled (quietly?) in response, feeling that this was a perfectly normal and acceptable life goal. “ALSO EATIN AN NAPPIN!”

His tusks twitched as he ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, still tasting the sourness from the berries. Was his tongue numb? Nah, surely not.

“WAT YOU DO?!”

 

[Nayella]

Nayella considered simply killing the creature.

She was almost certain that Bruk was an orc, but that did not mean much to her. There was no law for her people in killing creatures, even if they were simple minded. In fact, among her people such things were considered a kindness.

Her finger twitched. "I am a Witch."

It was really the only way for her to respond to the creatures...question? Or had it been more of a demand.

Many had called her as such, and she felt it was more fitting than calling herself a mage or sorceress. There was no insult to the title, not once she had taken it.

"I am...searching." Could the monster he reasoned with?

Surely not.

Though even a simple minded squirrel could be properly directed.

 

[Bruk]

A witch! Bruk had never met a witch before!

“BRUK NEVER MET WITCH BEFORE!” He bellowed in excitement unknowingly repeating the narration. A sheepish expression swiftly crossed his face when he realised that he had yelled (loudly) once again, well at least in the case of this woman's ears.

“SORRY!” Bruk shouted, this time in what was maybe a more palatable tone, although with the case of the bad news face that the Witch had it was very unlikely.

A frustrating thing about other species was their tendency to be constipated in their words. Bruk always said what he meant, and usually in the bluntest possible manner. For instance, if somebody asked him what he was doing he would likely to say 'BRUK ON QUEST FROM NATURE! BRUK DA GUARDIAN OF DA FOREST!' Now sure, there was a mystery there, but truth be told that's the entire gist of what he knew. Was he supposed to kill for nature? Maybe. Was he supposed to eat it? Perhaps. But that's all he knew, and so that's what he told.

“WAT SEARCH FOR?” Bruk enquired, a great meaty hand scratching the matted tufts of hair at the back of his head. Lice, probably.

His imagination was lacking when he tried to think of what she could have been looking for. He considered the possibility that it was the tree berries, which would have been unfortunate given how many he ate.

“MAYBE BRUK HELP FIND!”

 

[Mualiin]

Mualiin rose from the nap, unable to keep the loud voices out from his mind. A good shut-eye was hard to find nowdays. His armor slid and creaked as he sat straight, axe sliding off the tree it had been propped on to land smack on his lap.

"Ouch."

It was more of a practiced reaction than natural. He was still learning. Evidently he had a long way to go to express like his fellow Human folk. He was a blank slate compared to them.

Rising to his feet, he gripped his axe and slung across his back in a flourish, head turning in the direction of the voices. He heard someone trying to help another, about a... search. It was a blessing that the voice had been so loud. He did wonder who could bellow so much for the past five sentences. It helped finding the source be that much easier. "Mayhaps an adventure to come?" He idled, marching towards the source.

He came upon an Orc, and a human. He had to look down to face the woman, as his size assured he was oft mistaken as the battle-scarred Orc's own kin. His eyes would probably not help either, as vermilion sclera and violet irises tended to draw the wrong crowd. His faded black armor gleamed in what light would shine, nicked and dented in places. One would ask if he were not uncomfortable, in full-body armor. He had yet find a way to take it off.

"I hope I am not intruding. I was woken by your voices."

He kept his own voice level, idly wondering if shouting was the normal way of speaking in this conversation.

 

[Nayella]

Nayella was about to speak when something else caught her attention.

In an instant the soft pale green glow of her magic appeared around her hands, the Witch falling into a stance that screamed of discomfort and defense. She readied herself to lash out, her mind immediately jumping to the idea that the Orc had only been distracting her so that it's compatriot could jump out and tear out her throat.

The notion was immediately dismissed however when instead of a raging roar the second creature politely entered their…conversation.

She felt like she was getting whiplash.

The magic around her hands did not cease, though her body untensed just the slightest bit as her cold eyes searched over the new figure. The idea of him being another orc was quickly dismissed, though his body appeared as worn and tired as something touched by the Blight Witches magic. She frowned a moment, gazing at him and then at the orc. "What are you?"

She asked, caution tingling her voice.

This entire situation, all of it was quickly derailing.

She had come here for another piece of the artifact driven into her skull, and now…now she was playing diplomat to Orc and whatever this new creature was.

 

[Mualiin]

What he was?

He had anticipated a magic assault when he saw the faintest traces of the arcane green appear on her hands, but to see it recede slightly was a relief. He was no stranger to being hit with fireballs, spellbolts, and all manner of magics, and he was not keen on getting hit by another. Her glances at him and the battle-scarred orc also merited some form of concern, expected as it was.

He would rectify that, lest the situation devolve into a three-way. He knew his odds.

"I am Mualiin, the wandering."

He even took off his visor as proof, but to their eyes, all they would see were the unnatural vermilion and violets peering back from the blackness of the helmet. He would have taken the whole armor piece off as well, but the enchanted armament would not allow even that luxury unless he was hit on the head. He was not keen on self-maiming just to reveal his identity. He had learned better after the first five times.

"Or is it my nature you are asking, and not my identity?"

 

[Bruk]

Before the mystery of the searching could be resolved, another joined the scene.

Bruk was thankfully more open to the concept of companionship than the Witch. Mostly because he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing and was completely dependant on the forest spirits to guide him along the right path. So in his rather limited mind, these two were the right path and he didn't invest much extra thought other than that.

If he did then he would be trying to eat them. Let's face it, sometimes berries just didn't cut it.

After the increasingly frustrated woman asked her question Bruk had already come up with his own conclusion. He looked more like his type of fellow anyway, that is to say, up for a brawl. Although his eyes were very strange, even for Bruk's standards of strange.

“DIS EASY, HE FRIEND!” Bruk once again yelled, pointing to the polite fellow in the black armour before pointing to the witch with his other hand, “LIKE YOU FRIEND!”

It was a triumph of fate!

“FRIEND OF BRUK!”

Then it hit him and suddenly a sheepish expression spread across the Orc's face, he glanced between the witch and the armoured man as if he'd just been caught stealing all the potatoes again.

“OH! SORRY! WE NOT ALLOWED TO YELL BY DA WAY!” Bruk once more yelled quietly (the fact that he was able to do this growing more inexplicable). It was important to let the newcomer to the scene know this, after all, the glowing lady was beyond tense. Needed a real strong massage and a stiff drink. Maybe if she committed a touch of violent murder it would put her nose back in joint but then again, they were the only people around. Perhaps not then.

“MAULIIN!” Bruk proclaimed with boundless enthusiasm before asking the question on everybody's lips, “WHY YOU GOT FUNNY EYES!?”

 

[Mualiin]

His eyes, yes. He had received many questions about them. Magical defect, a curse, or some form of possession. Many were the answers he received, and not all of them were verbal. In truth, even he did not know. His parents certainly did not seem to care, having made comparisons to stars with his eyes.

And yes, it did seem shouting was not the normal way of conversation here. Merely the Orc's expression was loud, and it seemed to reflect his mentality. Brash, loud, bold...

And somewhat mentally childish. He would keep an eye on this one, as his own experiences regarding such personalities were largely mixed. He would react as opposed to acting out. Hopefully the Orc would not suddenly decide to eat them. He was more concerned for the woman than himself, as his armor oft discouraged such cannibalistic tendencies. As did his axe, but that was an 'if'.

"I do not know, only that I was born with them. My parents have... normal eyes."

He mouthed the 'normal' as if it were a foreign language, as the word tended to differ among the societies. He had stopped using it after witnessing a tribe of humans say it was 'normal' to dance around a raging bonfire and chant nonsensical words, before throwing their eldest into the fire. He recalled that was the first time he had slaughtered nonsensically as well, burning the entire tribe to the ground. He was... agitated then. But that was neither here nor there.

He was also curious as to the Orc's own eyes, mismatching gray and red.

"I suppose you have a reason for your own... eye condition?"

 

[Nayella]

Nayella glanced between the two.

Briefly she wondered why she wasn't just walking away, why she didn't just turn around and simply moved on from this situation. Yet something kept her rooted here. Perhaps it was an opportunity, perhaps it was something that could be used here.

"The Orc is..." She scowled. "Sluggardly"

The word was said quietly, hopefully too quiet for the massive creature to hear.

Plus, it might not understand.

The Witch wondered exactly where this other man had come from, why his parents had been ordinary. She listened quietly, her gaze shifting between the two of them again and then she spoke slowly. "Why are you wandering out here?"

She posed to the man.

 

[Bruk]

Well, a pretty satisfactory explanation as far as these things went. For others it would have piqued further curiosities, only cementing the knowledge that he was born with them. There were still questions to be had there, what was the significance of his eyes? Was he cursed? Was he not-human? Was he some harbinger of the apocalypse? Bruk didn't care, because Bruk knew he was simply born that way.

“WAT WRONG WIF BRUK EYES!?”

Mildly alarming, for he had no idea that his left iris had indeed turned a violent shade of bright red. For all the Orc knew they were both still grey. How troublesome!

As the Witch insulted him with hushed tones (although the definition of sluggardly would have indeed been lost upon him) Bruk's head turned from side to side as he attempted to look at his own eyes by moving really quickly. This, of course, would never work and was an absolutely astonishing move on the Orc's part.

“NOT GO NOWHERE, FRIENDS!”

Bruk stomped off towards the nearby stream after remembering that he did not possess superhuman speed as to see his own reflection, nor did he own a hand-held mirror to touch up his features. So the third and only sensible option would be to use the water to have a look, so he could check what was wrong with his tiny piggy eyes.

 

[Mualiin]

While the orc, disbelief clear in its eyes, marched to the waters, Mualiin turned to the witch, kneeling as so to whisper his own reply, inches from her cautious expression. Evidently she desired a quiet, if somewhat elusive conversation.

"It is my occupation by trade. I never stay in a single location longer than I desire. That being said, I am a mercenary as well. Should you have the coin," - he took in her ragged appearance, then dismissing it, "Then my services are yours."

He pointed to the axe slung on his back. "If it is not obvious, I am not one for magic either."

The jewels on her crown warranted interest, but he felt any questioning about them would turn this outing south, very quickly. Magic was foreign to him outside of the fireballs, electric bolts, and frost blasts he had been subject to during his life. But best if this conversation continued in a location more... homely.

"May I suggest if we continue this in civilization? There may be a tavern in that direction."

A wild guess, but he did feel thirsty at the moment.

 

[Nayella]

Nayella frowned a moment, watching Bruk as he paced towards a nearby stream. Her eyes then flashed towards the mountain of a man.

She couldn't help but pinch the bridge of her nose.

The Blight Witch knew that if she was going to find what she needed help would be required, but these two? These two were...sub-optimal. One seemed stoic and calm enough, but the mystery surrounding him troubled Nayella.

As for the Orc?

Well. "I have coin."

She mused out loud to herself more than the other man.

"And a task that needs to be completed." Rather, a gauntlet that needed to be run. It was the only way she could ensure the Crown remained at her beck and call, rather than the other way around.

She just had to find the prison first.

 

[Mualiin]

The mercenary rose to his full height, bowing slightly forward.

"Then should you will it, my services are yours."

He would inquire as to her task, but that was not his business... yet. Unless she handed his the payment and her terms, no matter how ridiculous they could be, he would refrain from inquiring too deeply about her motivations. He had yet to even decipher her brand of magic yet. And he was not keen on using his armaments to test it either. Fireballs had been enough.

He glanced towards the lumbering orc, gazing with an almost amused twinkle in his eyes. Even among the more... childish and immature members of that species, this one was already shaping himself up to be a level... different from what was seen previously.

"May I be excused from killing that Orc, if you are to hire my services? I am not sure if my axe is capable of splitting his head, hard-headed as it seems to me."

Of course, he meant that metaphorically, but it was a valid physical concern as well.

Nayella Bruk