Open Chronicles Ohgrack Larc Rakka! (A heart lies beyond my home!)

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Skull-hammer

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On the edge of the Falwood, beyond it's Fae courts on the eastern coast the peace was broken by a heavy sigh. Not the sigh of love found or exhaustion (though he had been travelling a day and a night without stopping) but a sigh of great mourning.
To the people he was Rhuk Anagg, The Dragon Carver. so called for his feat of naming in which he carved from living rock the visage of a dragon which he affixed to a branch of the tree under which he was born but to the little folk he was Skull-hammer, for that is what they saw when they looked upon it and him.
He let out another sigh that shook leaves from trees and sat at the ledge of a small cliff overlooking the sea. Not far north he could see the moving boats that made their way to and from Alliria, though he did not know the name of this place yet.
He was a massive figure with his green back and yellow belly. His hair was red and matted. On his body he wore deer pelt and over his shoulder where a spiral of blue wode sat a satchel of woven cloth held all he had in the world. Even sitting he could rival most of the small folk for height. At ten feet standing it was not difficult.
With delicate slowness he opened his satchel and reached inside for his only companion. The turtle fit neatly in his yellow palm and upon its back a swirl of blue wode marked it.
"Time to wake up!" He said in deep softness and tapped the shell three times. Slow as its owner the turtle within emerged and gingerly stood itself upon his hand looking up at him hopefully. Skull-hammer turned his palm to have the turtle face the sea.
"We are here Tum-tum. We made it."
He smiled at this simple milestone, among the people there was no such thing as a minor victory.
This peace was broken by the appearance of another. Not so strange really since he had stopped along the coastal road that led from Alliria south and brought much trade north but hadn't noticed that.
With his free hand raised up in the sign of greeting he spoke some of the few words of the small folk he knew.
"Who there?"
 
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Low to the ground, with eyes keen, Orrak watched the wanderer with interest. "A turtle?" she said as she crept along the moss covered stones. She wore the feint curl of a smile on her lip, her bow in hand, but no arrow knocked. "How funny," she said coolly.

The towering ogre seemed to mutter something to his shelled companion.

Orrak slung her bow over her shoulder, and stood up from behind her cover, made toward the road.

Who there?

"A traveler," she stated. "Passing through, large one," she smiled. And though she bore no tusks that hinted to her heritage, her skin, and the markings tattooed aupon her face, marked her as a member of the Aberresai ork tribes. A daughter of mystic blood. "And who might you be?" she questioned.

Skull-hammer
 
Skull-hammer's great hand waves slow greeting. It took him a moment but he grocked the meaning of her words.
He smiled wide at seeing her clearer and his heart beat hard with hope.
"You see Tum-tum?" he muttered in the old tongue of the hills. "We are going the right way."
In his palm the turtle watched as the Orc got closer. While Skull-hammer mustered more small folk words to speak to her. His wide face twisted with the effort.
"I am, Skull-hammer." he managed with effort and tried to follow it up with a question.
"And, you?"
 
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By the looks of his garb, the ogre was of the forest kin. She knew little of their dialects, but had worked with many whom had trouble with common.

"Prowler," she said, with a hand to her chest. The sounds of each syllable rolled off her tongue, slow and with ease, her lips moved to make the sounds as clear as she could. With an up turned palm, as if she raised an offering up to the large one she went on. "What brings you, here, Skull-hammer?"

She knew it was not his name in true. Couldn't be, for the wode on the turtle's shell, and the make of his garb, spoke of one who was still bound to their people. Still tied to the power of history and legend.
 
"Prowler, Hello!"
The great bulk of the Ogre moved, hefting itself up on his thick legs. It was like the earth itself was rising around him.
"I am, seeking, for young one. Gone. I find."
He was pretty sure that was correct. His smile wavered a bit as he spoke, his face becoming serious but he ended his declaration with a thump on his chest, so hard it cause Tum-tum to retreat into his shell.
Skull-hammer did not seem to notice, though he still held the creature in his open palm.
"Prowler has seen?"
 
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Her smile broadened some, being met with such enthusiasm. But as he rose, and gave his answer, her face grew more solemn.

"Young one," she echoed beneath her breath, and shook her head. "No, I have not seen," she frowned. "Your, child?" she asked, with some hint of pain plain in her voice, her eyes looked for any clues his expression might lend.

"She left?" one hand mimed legs running across the open palm of the other. The running hand stopped. "Or... Taken?" The palm that might have been the land turned to clutching claw, and snatched up the other hand with an audible smack.
 
Skull-hammer listened intently and though it was not the answer he had wanted he accepted that Prowler had not seen his quarry.
This next part gave him some trouble and so he took his time to answer. "Your, child?" she had asked.
"My... I am, kin to her but, she is..." His eyes flickered to the painted turtle in his palm "She ,is like you."

He watched her mime with all the attention of a scholar engrossed in some tome as if the secrets of the universe lay within. When she grabbed her hand in demonstration his face fell and again he took a moment to answer.
"Not know. I wake, gone."
His brow furrowed in thought and concern. He had not conceived that they were taken somehow. He knew only that she was gone.
The way of the people was subtle so it did not escape him that Prowler's mood had changed and again his brow furrowed at her but this time focused on her features as he scanned them. His large head leaned down towards her casting a shadow over her face from the evening sun.
"Why Prowler is, not good?"
He knew that he could not speak his question correctly but he felt the effort needed to be made.
 
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She laughed. Though she had not meant to. Felt her cheeks flush with the hint of embarrassment as she turned her eyes down and away. To laugh when ones kin was missing. She shook her head. Let her breath run out of her nose with a huff.

"I have," she stopped to think on his words. On how she might say what she meant so that he might understand. Her eyes looked back up to the large one, who shielded her from the sun's harsh light. "I feel your loss," she said plainly. Clutched one hand to her chest. "I have, small one," she gave a nod. "My son," she smiled wistful.

He was away. Safe behind walls, with people she trusted. Trusted enough so long as she could send them coin for their services.

She let the thought fall from her mind, and cast her eyes up the road, pointed North and to the east. "Trading camp," she looked back to him. "More people, maybe," her eyes turned downcast as she let the thought sink in. Returned her mismatched eyes to meet his towering gaze. "Maybe they will know more," she said, and tapped her right temple with two fingers of her right hand.
 
He listened to Prowler attentively.
Nodded to confirm he understood her though he did not know the small folk word "son" he assumed it was a name.
Following her direction he looked at the horizon, it was that way he saw boats going. This was a good direction.
He found Prowler to be most agreeable. Before he took the full meaning of her advice he mimicked her motion of two fingers to her temple then smiled as he finally groked.
"Ah. People, know. At camp."

He nodded to emphasize his understanding for a few seconds too long then he gently place Tum-tum back into his satchel and slung his hammer over his shoulder. His face squashed in thought again.
"Prowler go to Son now?"
 
Prowler smiled as he came to understand, at least in part what she had said. She nod. Then shrugged. "Maybe," she added, and watched as the towering one thought on the words they had traded.

When he went to move, he returned his painted turtle to his pack, and readied his hammer. He cut an imposing figure.

Her heart sank. Even before he asked his question.

Prowler go to Son now?

She shook her head in the negative. "No," she said simply. Sure that the crestfallen tone of the word alone was enough to convoy how she felt. She met his eyes once more. "He is safe," she cupped one hand over the other, and held it close to her heart. "Far, and with friend,"

She looked to the distance. Thought a moment, then looked back to the towering one. The world beyond the falwood would not be kind to him. "I," she pointed to her self. "Go with Skull-hammer," she nod. "At least to the camp," she told herself.
 
Without thinking about it Skull-hammer made a gentle fist and brought it to his own heart where he rubbed it in a slow circle.
"Good!" His voice was deep and genuine. He did not fully understand why Prowler was away from Son but it saddened her so he did not want to ask more about it. It seemed like each of them were searching.

And when Prowler asked to go with him his face beamed.
"YES!" his reply was a joyful bark. Though he knew of no danger in the area he was glad of the company.
With long but slow strides he began to make his way to the camp.

"Come." He called back over his shoulder for it was the way of his people to not waste opportunity.
 
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Prowler stifled a laugh at the bark that came from Skull-hammer. They joyfulness that boomed from him, infectious, and when he set towards the camp, she adjusted her bow, and followed after, a step and a half for every one of his lumbering plods.

A quick detour saw her flit into the woods along the road. Grab up her spear and her pack before she re-emerged alongside the towering one.

From the camp the whispy trails of cookfires hazed lazily across the blue sky. Travelers seemed to mill at the crossroads, a loaded wagon or two, and the bedraggled adventurers that served as their guards.
 
When Skull-hammer saw the crossroads he pointed to it and said
"Is camp."
He did not know what a small-folk camp was or how it might operate. He reasoned it was a kind of settlement but he couldn't be sure. The guards he took no heed of as they approached. The people had no need of Guards for two plain reasons. The first was they were relatively isolated in the Falwood and the second was because nobody enters an Ogre village looking for trouble and lasts very long.
One of the adventurer/guards saw them (hard to miss really) and called back to gather others. Within a few moments a small group of some eight armed small-folk were watching them as they got closer.

"That's close enough!" The one in the lead called out to them when they came within earshot.
Her face was hard like beaten stone and her voice lacked any kindness. She wore a sensible helmet, shield and spear.
"What are you two doing about here?"

Orrak Lan
 
"Yes," Prowler agreed. "It is camp,"

It was not long before the guards deployed. Eight, fanned about them as they approached.

That's close enough! Called out a stern voice. Cold as an iron wall. What are you two doing about here?

Prowler looked over the other guards. Most had their hands about spears hafts. One had a hammer in hand, and a shield in the other.

A banner flew from below the spear head. A pennant with a clenched grey fist.

Prowler's mismatched eyes settled on the lead guard. "We are searching!" she called out, still some yards away from the guards. She noted a pair of them readied crossbows.

She hated crossbows.

"For a young ogre," she jerked her head back and over her shoulder, to denote Skull-hammer. "Is there any chance you have seen a young ogre come through?" She could only hope they would be helpful.

Skull-hammer
 
He understood a bit of this back and forth. Enough to hold his ground when indicated and that the appearance of crossbows made him wonder. He had never seen a crossbow. If an ogre needed to hit something far away they used a sling or a hukk. This device was foreign to him.

The leader of the small-folk listened to Prowler and smirked.
"Ain't got nuthin for you here, either of ya. So why don't you turn around and go back the way ya came?"
The threat was clear enough even Skull-hammer noticed it. Still he didn't move and waited. Perhaps Prowler would be able to see them through this.

Orrak Lan
 
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The answer they received did not surprise her, and she could feel the pace her pulse hasten. Beat strong against the bones of her chest and thrum through her ribs.

Eight in total. Some part of her counted. Prepared. Two ranged, six... far enough.

The answer that was given was nothing. A screen. A minor tactic to be rid of anything that might be...too troublesome. Or simply not worth the comfort that came with loitering about.

"Please," she slowly reached for the purse tied to her belt. A few of the men, younger, already amped from the approach and the tension that charged the air amidst their rank, stiffened up and shifted. Held tighter their spears that fixed straighter in the air. Points glint with promise of their purpose. Prowler spilled two coils from her hand, silver pieces. Allirian vintage. "Any information would be helpful, we search for family, and mean no trouble to anyone,"


She shook the purse just a little more. Three coins showed in her palm, and caught the light of day flush across their polished faces.

Skull-hammer
 
The leader spoke with another quietly. They were discussing whether to accept the money or not.
Above them the leaves brushed against the wind while Skull-hammer and Prowler waited.

"Alright!" The leader said eventually, "but no trouble or we stick ya and leave ya for the birds."
At the motion of her hand the armed small-folk dispersed save one who came forth to collect the coin. He was young of face and held a spear low, without threat.
"Hiya, names Spune. Cap'n says if you need anything you can ask. You uh, said you're looking for yer kin?"
Skull-hammer looked at Prowler and regretted that so much now came to rest on her.

Orrak Lan
 
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Prowler's brow quirked. She thought better than to correct the young man. Nothing more than time wasted. She gave a small nod of reassurance to the towering one.

"Well met, Spune," she spoke slow again. In hopes that Skull-hammer might understand. She clutched the three coins of silver in her hand, and offered them to the young man. "For your, assistance," she said clearly. Put her coin purse away.

"We search for kin, yes," she gestured with one hand toward Skull-hammer. "A young forest ogre, like my friend here, only, about as tall as I," it was then that she realized. She did not know much about the details of the towering one's dilemma. "Excuse me," she stated flatly. Turned toward Skull-hammer. "When did she go missing?" she gestured toward him. "Young one,"

Skull-hammer
 
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Skull-hammer took a deep breath and thought.

His process was slow since his people did not rush even in such cases.
After a few moments he reached up his great hand, extended four fingers and spoke.
"DAYS!"
He made a mental note to himself to try to learn the numbers of the Small-folk.

Spune, for his part, nearly dropped his coins when he heard the Forest Ogre speak.
"Um, alright eh four days? No. We ain't seen none of his sort come this way, an we bein here all week ain't like to miss one either."
His eyes didn't leave the towering figure of Skull-hammer though he addressed his words to Prowler.

Orrak Lan
 
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A declaration. Loud enough to startle birds from their branches. Prowler could not help but smile at the display.

But Spune's words tempered what little spark of warmth she had felt.

"No, I do not doubt you, Spune," she assured, and her eyes glanced toward the camp. She nodded toward the wagons parked about the perimeter of tents, and the makeshift fortifications. "We will go and ask the people of the camp," she said with a nod, and stepped coolly toward the camp. "Thank you for your assistance, Spune," she said over her shoulder, and her leather boots crunched soft against the dirt of the earth road.

Skull-hammer
 
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Spune made no effort to stop Prowler and Skull-hammer from making their way to the wagons and the folk that milled about them. He did not believe he could stop them if he tried and he desperately did not want to try. Though he remained at a distance and watched them, he was casual in his way. Always there if they looked for him.

The Wagons were decorated in the way of sewn animals and carved wood figures. Some of them were serene, depicting life at ease and play. Others were of a more cryptic nature. Scenes of religious and cultural significance mostly concerning animal folk distinctly in positions of wisdom and high status.
There was no mistaking The Gnucker folk. Dressed in their woven fabrics of laced bead and patchwork patterns they were ever a colourful display not unlike a carnival to those who knew them not.

Some vanished as the two green figures approached them. Skull-hammer lagging behind Prowler spoke to her.
"They afraid."
This time his voice was low and full of care. He had already come to rely on the tracker much. In this place among so much not meant for him or any of his kind he felt overly aware of the Small Folk. Their frailty was a danger to him, an errand step could harm beyond mending and then their fear would turn to something else.

One of the Gnucker watched as they approached. An elder wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets and wrappings.
Before him there was a fire, crackling and warm against the setting sun of the coast. Smoke and salt mingled in the air.
The elder said nothing to them but looked up expectant with eyes red with age and sunk deep into worn features.

Orrak Lan
 
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She was pleasantly surprised that Spune had allowed them to venture in toward the camp. More surprised still that the young man hung around them to do their duty.

She grudged the suspicion. But, respected the dedication to his station. Humble as it was.

When the shine and shimmer of intricate beadwork caught her eye, Prowler slowed some. Watched as a few of the Gnucker folk hid within their covered wagons, or scurried off to cover beneath pitched tent.

Skull-hammer spoke in a hushed tone, and she but nod. "Many fear our kind, Skull-hammer," she replied. While she could hide herself more easily, a mask, the wrap of cloth, she was no stranger to ire and disdain. Her heart ached all the more, knowing that Skull-hammer had no such luxury of disguise.

But it was then that she saw the Elder, and the wizened look in his eyes. She let shut her own gaze, and bowed her head low to the elder.

A sign of respect amongst so many peoples. Amongst so much life. A sign of vulnerability. And the willingness to show such an opening oft warranted some measure of welcome in Prowler's experience.

She rose. "Eld one," she said in common tongue. "Your fire burns bright, may we share in its warm light as the darkness comes?"



Skull-hammer
 
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A nod was the Elder's only reply. Simple and allowing but not warm.
He watched them as they warmed themselves against the evening sun and shuffled somewhat beneath the mountain of blankets.
Fire crackled and spat and when the wind caught it blew smoke into their eyes. Skaull-hammer was even catching it. Rubbing them red and wiping the involuntary tears from his cheeks. After a moment someone among the Gnucker must have felt that it was a poor show to leave the Elder alone with strangers and two youths came to stand at his sides though they said nothing and made to be idly warming their own hands.
Skull-hammer did not know the Gnucker but he knew travelling folk enough to know that a bargain was always appreciated. So with as much secrecy as a ten foot green giant might employ he spoke to Prowler.
"We trade?"

Orrak Lan
 
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Prowler gave a nod to Skull-hammer's suggestion, squinting away some of the wetness that had gathered about her eyes. She wiped the tears away, and looked about her person, and thought moment on what she could give the Gnucker folk.

She remembered a blade, she had one in a game of dice. Worked the leather chords loose from her belt, and showed the sheathed tool to the elder. Its leather sheath was adorned by small shells, from those sands that touched the waters of Liad. "For your kindness," she offered. "And, if I may, Eld one, A request," she said, still holding forth the sheathed blade.

The younger folk stared on with interest. Noted how the bits of shell that hung to the sheath caught the fire's light, and shone iridescent.

Should they take and open the blade, they would find the metal dark, and patterned with waves of blue, in the style of Aberresai flame whisperers.

Skull-hammer
 
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One of the younger men took the offered knife and after an awed examination gave it to the seated Elder who turned it over in hands so gnarled they looked like the knotted roots of an old oak tree.
He spoke in the tongue of the animals. Low tones strung together in aged mumbles. The one who took the knife translated. His voice was deeper than his face let on as he spoke to Prowler.
"My Father thanks you for this treasure and asks what favor we can offer you."
The Elder mumbled a chiding remark at his son who rolled his eyes at it.
"He also says that you and your mate may take the large caravan tonight."

Skull-hammer did not know some of the words the young man spoke and so he missed the implication of the word "mate". He simply watched as the Elder took the ornate knife and spoke.

Orrak Lan