Private Tales Something in the Wind

[Bula]

Bula had returned again from one of her sabbaths that she took. She missed her family--her mother especially. But there was more to her return than that. She came bearing a warning that she had not yet told anyone. Grabbing one of the sticks near the campfire, she nudged the embers and rekindled the flame. Then she sat down before it on a gnarled, rough looking bench. Her single eye roamed the camp, wondering if her mother was in her tent or not. Maybe she'd feel her, she didn't know.

A soft sigh left the orc, an emotion not usually displayed by the toughened shaman. Her nostrils flared as she followed that up with a huff. Bula continued to play idly with the fire, knowing she should go to her mother's tent, but not yet ready to bring the news to her. She'd left with a scouting group that disappeared, and she bore new wounds that were clear: her side has been deeply cut and blood ran from one of her ears, a slow trickle now that it was clotting. It hurt like hell, though. If someone came to her, they'd see that her right ear had been cut from her head.

It seemed like Bula always found trouble. But she was tough and could handle it. Anything to please her mother, she would do. She tried to distract herself, and noting that the fire was low, she decided to add more would to it. Getting up, she went to fetch the timber from a nearby stock pile and dropped it into the flames of the campfire loudly. Maybe that would wake someone up.

Again, she sniffed the air, as if expecting something. Bula felt the pang in her chest of deep anxiety, and when someone finally noticed she was there, she'd be found rocking back and forth, hand on her ear. She could feel her pain here: it was safe, she was home. But home... Home could be in danger, and that truly scared the young orc.

Mabess

 

[Mabess]

The tribe had seemingly shrunk since last time, not from any horrid predicament like famine or war, but from the passage of time and change of vision. Many an Ashlander has grown weary of their life of travel, settling the mountainside in one grand fort to defend against the evils from beyond this world.

It all lay too heavy on the chieftainess, for she still stood by the traditions passed down generation by generation, yet who would allow their tribe split up? Would her rule really be known by a schism of lifestyle? Was this the right Anything to take her mind off of this.
Gromnar, her current husband brought her a cup of tea. He entered her home with a sort of poise that hinted at something pleasant. »There is someone who you wish to see.«
Someone I wish to see... Her mind travelled, her body still in thought like a body floating in the endless breadth of the great lake.

Yes. That was it.
The chieftainess rose and strode outside into the open camp. Where the scent of smoke and cool air freely intermixed.
There was only one silhouette her eyes were seeking.
Her little cub.
Her,
»Bula! «

 

[Bula]

The blood covered, earless orc's right ear, or lack thereof, not hearing Mabess's departure from her tent. Fortunately, Mabess called Bula's name loud enough for her left ear to pick up. The right side of her body looked her experience. Worn, damaged, imperfect. At least scarring meant something good in orc culture: she might be more desirable to a mate, which she'd yet to pick among those in their clan.

"Mother," she greeted grimly. Something was on her mind, digging into her brain like an incessant burrowing worm. "We need to speak. Somewhere private," the orc added. She didn't wish to bring panic to anyone that might overhear, but the grim tidings she brought needed to be expressed. Would Bula tell her story this time, after what happened before during her pilgrimage?

Slowly she rose to her feet, favoring her left leg, though her right side was dominant. She'd possibly broken her foot and/or ankle, and standing on it was unpleasant. There were better pains to feel.

Mabess

 

[Mabess]

What would have been a joyous reunion of mother and child dearly missed, had taken on a more sombre undertone as both she-orcs came in clear view of each other.
She should have expected something bad to have happened, for her journey took much longer than what was originally expected.
»You're not well... « She trailed into silence. Not an odd request to have, she thought, but her daughter's injuries are something that cannot be ignored.

Mabess offered to carry her. »Lets get you home, you can tell me as Gorsgoya looks over you.«

 

[Bula]

It was the second time she'd come home sporting wounds. Bula was proud of the scars she bore, of the scars she would yet bear. The she-orc, nonetheless, paid heed to her mother's words. She didn't want to deal with seeing Gorsgoya, but a splint would do her twisted and broken foot well.

With a shake of her braids, she declined her mother's offer to carry her. "I am well enough," she grunted, adjusting her weight as she stood to her feet. With limping strides, she came up next to Mabess and offered what might have been a tusk-filled smile. A smile darkened with grim tidings, of which Bula was the messenger.

While they walked, Bula said little. Her jaw tensed as she bit the inside of her cheek and her fingers curled inward toward her palms, hanging at her side whilst her nails bit tiny crescent shapes into her hand. Blood trickled from her fists as she cut skin with how tightly she wound her fingers.

A bird fell from the sky, landing with a thud in the path of the two she-orcs. For Bula, this was another bad omen. Her frown returned, deeper than before.

"Mother," she growled and gestured to the bird; it was riddled with small insects.

Mabess

 

[Mabess]

The matriarch was no doubt concerned, but the willpower and resilience of the ashlanders were remarkable. So far no trouble could truly keep them down, nor their enslavement in the ages ago, or the onslaught of demons from beyond. Bula herself was an example of such will from her blood to her skin. But a pattern of victory should not be cause of lack of concern or to have pride insidiously creep into one's mind.

Mabess let her daughter go as she pleased, but she nevertheless led her towards the privacy of indoors. With a wave of her hand and a hush call, Gorsgoya started to accompany them inside.
While she was generally considered a joyous elder, she decided to hold back her quips, especially when the bird fell from the sky.
Gorsgoya stared at the bird before simply remarking.
»This is not natural, « before admitting after a long pasue. »It can only mean bad, but the signs are not coming to me.« She bode the other two to her tent before picking up the bird and carrying it inside and laying it on a wooden plank for later inspection and divination.

Mabess only quietly grunted, before escorting Bula indoors and helping her to a comfortable seat where Gorsgoya would have a look over the extent of her injury.

Mabess took a slightly distant seat from Bula's side so Gorsgoya had room to move as she pleased. Still, she reached toward her if she needed comfort.
»We can speak now or later if you so wish. «


Bula

 

[Bula]

The orc wanted to discuss these things privately, without any company save her mother. But her wounds did need looking after, less they fester, and she looses the limb. That would render her useless to her clan, she believed. She couldn't live that kind of life, she was far too active to be brought down, and she enjoyed (mostly) her excursions with other orcs into the wilderness. It was her home, where she felt the spirits of her ancestors easily enough. It was comforting.

“It cannot wait any longer,” she grunted, disgruntled. A thud on the roof as another bird fell. It hadn't turned into a corpse festering with insects yet, but that didn't matter. They could hear it, not see it, in their current locations. “There is something toxic rolling our way. If it infects more than the birds, that could impact our food stores. We need to prepare, for I do not know how long it will last, or where it's coming from. Our scouting group ran into these strange creatures I haven't seen before. We tried and barely killed them. Not without major losses, as you see in me returning home alone.

“Those monsters tore my fellow clansmen into pieces. One of them got my leg good and hard. It was the last one, but it was too late. My leg was badly damaged, as you can see by the blood on my trousers.”

Pulling away the tattered clothes would reveal her lame leg, large tear and bite marks on it. They were beginning to fester, and one of the deeper ones already had maggots in it--insects laying their horrid youth in a place they deem safe. The skin was dark around the wounds, less green and more deathlike.

“When they died, they expelled the gas. It's in the wind above us now.”

Mabess

 

[Mabess]

The matroness crossed her arms as she listened to her daughter speak, giving her the respectful quiet for her to tell everything she had to. Her head only briefly perked up as brief outside noise disturbed the women.

Gorsgoya quietly muttered as she tightened a bind so its herbal poultice would stay firmly put on the wound.
» So the bird is no omen, it's the herald of what's to come. «

Mabess then shook her head before finally speaking.
»Is it visible? We better warn everyone to start moving.«
There was no reason to distrust her daughter, but such news posed no good when kept in secrecy. Mobilising the clan would be easy enough, warning the others, not as much and if it's in the air, their messenger buzzards were of no use. Perhaps knowledge of the spread would be sufficient to direct routes of evacuation...
Regardless, they had to act quickly but not rashly.

A dead or wounded orc was no fighter indeed and the Stormcallers might as well be lost.

Bula

 

[Bula]

Gorsgoya's administrations elicited a low growl from Bula. It hurt, but it was good for her leg, which had already been scraped clean of dead skin. The wound was worse than Bula showed, but that wasn't uncommon for the she-orc. Her head turned, ear toward the exit of the tent as if she heard something.

"Manticores," Bula finally breathed. "Scorpion tailed ones. And they know how to use the poison. With a lion for the head, not a human-like visage. There were three of them, and they shredded the scouting party I had. They are strange creatures.. These ones seem capable of breathing poison. The crow must have encountered them, but how it ended up here I do not know."

A firm frown set on her lips around her tusks and she continued, "It was a pack of three, and I think they've followed me back here to feast."

As soon as she said that, there was hurried yelling outside the tent. The sound of orcs arming themselves was not unusual, but it was rare for this group. She turned to her mother, pulling her leg away from Gorsgoya. Reaching for her axes, she rose to her feet. The grimace on her face told more than enough about how much pain she was in, but she wasn't going to let them demolish her home.

Quickly, or as quickly as she could, she limped outside.

Mabess

 

[Mabess]

Gorsgoya muttered » If only I had time, « as Bula rushed outside. Some kind of antidote would have been appropriate, but it's far too late at this time to meddle with corpses. Mabess was just about to hurry after her daughter when instead the elder shaman caught her attention with a gruff bark. » Take this, « she tossed a rotund ground jar at her, which the chieftainess caught. » Should keep you folk alive for a little longer. «

Berserker fumes.
The first thing outside, Mabess hurried over for her barghest and saddled up, at least for this moment, the chieftainess lost sight of where Bula ran off to, but Mabess' first priority was to get the vulnerable people out of danger.
The extra four feet beneath her hopefully were a match for a manticore's agility.