Private Tales Stuff Like This Happens to Everyone

[Scabhair]

She rolled her shoulders in a shrug he couldn’t see. “Talking is overrated.” Strange opinion coming from a woman holding a degree from the College of Elbion.

Or were they?

“I spent more than five years of my life just flapping my jowls. Dusk ‘till dawn, day in, day out.. About everything you can think of, and then some.” She snorted. The discussions had felt so important at the time. Like they could save the world with words alone. “You grow to appreciate the silence.”

 

[Corvus]

“Mm, we never did much talking at home. Sure, there was the Thing, but for the most part talking was done with the family, and it was limited to brief times in the morning in evening.”

He frowned, then sighed. “You learned to make the most of it. The silence, when it came, was deafening.”

 

[Scabhair]

“The Thing?”

 

[Corvus]

He snorted, realizing how odd that had to sound to her. Briefly after coming to the Reach, he had found out ‘thing’ was a nondescript way to describe any object, person, or place that you didn’t know the name for.

“A gathering.” He explains, “Usually to dispense justice and solve disputes. It’s a way of keeping family feuds in check, among other things. A communal gathering of the free men and women of an area or clan.”

 

[Scabhair]

Scabhair made a noise of understanding. She knew the thing then, just not as the Thing. “Ra Bhreagchuirtneamhabhartha,” she said with a nod, as if the word weren’t a choking hazard.

“Our Shamans lead them, but everyone has a say. Even the children.” Sometimes it took the voice of the young to wisen up the old, who often grew rooted into their beliefs. “The clan you come from – do you live in one place?”

 

[Corvus]

“Excuse you.” He says, thinking she’d sneezed - or coughed. Or, maybe, had some kind of medical emergency in the head area.

Opening his eyes again, he studied her and nodded. “Yes. A fishing village at the end of one of the fjords. Plenty to eat provided you could use a spear or a pole.”

 

[Scabhair]

She grinned into the night, silver eyes flicking up from the fire. “It’s alright. Not many people that can wrap their tongue around orcish.” Or head, for that matter. As if to spite the stereotype, their native language had a grammar far more labyrinthine than any variation of Common she’d encountered.

And to think the humans called them barbarous.

“If you can’t use a spear out here, you’re dead.” It sounded cruel, but it was true. Surely a man like Corvus would more than understand the life of hunters. “But the steppe is a living, breathing… thing. You cannot sit in the village all day and wait for the prey to come to you, and so we come to them. We move.” She sighed, eyes streaking to the side, to Inodeirr. “We ride.”

 

[Corvus]

“Mm, hunting was common, but the terrain wasn’t good for riding.” Smiling, he shook his head. “I can imagine what you mean, though. I’ve never been, but if it’s a flat expanse of nothing, you’d have no choice but to chase it down.”

His fingers brushed through the grass and then over to Scalf’s head. “We tracked through the woods and up the mountains. Fish might come to you but meat never did. The more things are different the more they stay the same.”

 

[Scabhair]

She clicked her tongue at her own recollections. “The Spine is… a beast of its own.” Her tribe didn’t wander that high up – hardly ever even broached the deep forests in its shadow – but she’d scaled and crossed the range many times herself.

More of the former than the latter, though. The humid jungles on the other side did nasty things to her bows.

“Depends on the mount. Some of the tribes up in the mountains have these…” she waved her hand in the direction of Scalf, “well, they’re not quite wolves, but I’m not certain I know the Common word for them. If there is a Common word for them. At any rate, those things have little issue dealing with mountainous terrain.”

“But—” she conceded on a long breath, “most riding is done in the flats, yes. Amol-Kalit is home to the most beautiful horses I have ever seen.”

The same could not be said for its peoples.

 

[Corvus]

“I lost my axe crossing the Spine. Was fighting some dwarves in a blizzard, down one of the passes, and by the time I was able to hunt for it, the snow had even covered most of the bodies.” He still dreamt of that night, and often awoke in a cold sweat.

It had not been a good passage. Not by a long shot. “Direwolves?” He offers, hoping to help her along with a name. Scalf wasn’t quite that large but he thought he knew what she was talking about.

“I hadn’t seen many, if any, horses until I arrived here. We mostly used mules and oxen back home.”

 

[Scabhair]

"Dwarves? Out in the open?" Her brows went up. "Must've been one unlucky passage then. Never happened to me." Of course, Scabhair ventured over further up north, closer to the Blightlands than Belgrath.

And fuck going through the mountain. She'd rather freeze.

"I don't think so. Bharghestrai, we call them. Could be it's just a different name for the same thing." Wouldn't be the first time.

"If you're looking for a new axe, you could buy one from the dwarves." Amusement clearly seeped into her voice, "or swing back north with me. Get a proper tuagh."

At that she carefully pulled her own sheathed weapon out of the pack, sliding off the leather cap to show the make of the axe. From wicked spike to curved bit, it was exactly as nasty in combat as it promised to be.

 

[Corvus]

“I think they were out looking for something.”
He admits, “Or mistook me for someone who was.” He shrugged, downplaying how vicious that turn of events had been.

“Swing up north?” He asks, brow raised as he eyed her axe. It did look decidedly vicious, he couldn’t deny that. “Mm, a very tempting offer.”

 

[Scabhair]

She hummed and let the fire be as she went about storing the dried page in the codex. After folding it she securely bound the leather with latches and clasps again, protecting it from snow and rain.

“North,” she echoed, smiling a little at the thought. It had been a long while since she’d been home. “Shouldn’t sweat so much under those furs then. It gets mighty cold this time of year.”

 

[Corvus]

“I suppose one familiar place is as good as any other.” He admits, “We’ll come along. At the very least, it will prove interesting.”

And, he imagined, they would make sure he knew how to ride. Something in him said they wouldn’t tolerate him otherwise. He’d never been to a place populated by orcs before.

This might not be his best idea, but she was good company. Lifting an arm, he sniffed. “Mm, not really sweating. Much.”

 

[Scabhair]

“That’s your opinion,” Scabhair said on an amused voice. There was implication there – that perhaps a more sensitive nose was prickled by the smell even when his wasn’t.

“You can decide when we get to Alliria,” she added after a beat, settling back against Inodeirr for the long watch. “It’s not a short journey.”

What took a week riding dragged for three on foot.

 

[Corvus]

So far as he was aware, he didn’t smell. He was certain if he took off his clothes there would be a potent musk, but most sweaty men had that once the pants came off.

“Mm,” He rumbles, “I’ve traveled this far already. What’s another few months journey.”

 

[Scabhair]

“Depends how fast you can march. Or hire a horse.”

She smiled at the flames and wrapped the rest of the dried meat in a stretch of leather for rations. Hunting for meat every day was one of the ways to spend twice as much time travelling somewhere. Scabhair had learned to carry plenty of food with her on the longer treks.

“Sleep on it. I’ll wake you when it’s your watch.”

 

[Corvus]

Chuckling quietly, he closed his eyes again, once more finding himself settling in. "Of course." He murmurs, and, in the manner characteristic of all people who have spent enough time out in the wilderness, he was fast asleep on the dirt as though it were simply another bed.

 

[Scabhair]

This late in the night, even the insects had gone quiet. Since it was still too early for birds, quietude reigned across the surrounding land. Nary a branch sent its whisper along the breeze, and nothing moved across the field littered with corpses.

The only sound filling the silence was the crackle and hiss of the tiny fire. Scabhair had stoked the flames well as they ate through the sticks and logs. No matter that they were both used to the cold – curling up to lively heat was a pleasure unto itself.

Still, the orc stood and stretched her body free of the kinks that came from sitting in one place for hours. “Corvus,” she spoke on a low voice, barely enough to carry over the fire.

 

[Corvus]

He woke near immediately, though he didn't startle. Groaning, he opened his eyes and stood, cracking his back and stretching himself out just as she had done. "Ryeine." Hefting his helmet up and back onto his head, he looked at her with tired eyes that still managed to be alert.

"Nothing?" He asks, moving to sit himself on a log by the fire, hooking his scabbard to his belt. "No bandits returning?"

 

[Scabhair]

She shook her head, red hair tumbling down her shoulders as she untied the leather band holding them together. “All quiet so far. If they had a hunting party out, they either haven’t returned yet, or they saw the carnage from far away and turned tail.”

With the man now on watch, Scabhair wrapped herself more securely into her cloak and nestled deeper into Inodeirr’s fur until the lion flopped one heavy paw over her flank. She was out within breaths, easily taken by the exhaustion of the long day.

 

[Corvus]

He hadn't even noticed her hair up until that moment, but there was no missing it once the fire caught it. Red wasn't a color he associated with orcish hair - he mostly associated them with 'bald.' "Good enough for me." He murmurs, taking his seat by the fire while Scalf meandered his way into the woods to walk the perimeter.

That was always what he admired most about the wolf; it's uncanny ability to pick up human habits. It had once seen scouts walking the perimeter and ever since it'd done the same, as though knowing when it was time to keep watch.

He'd still be sitting there, undisturbed, when she awoke. And when she was clearly awake, she'd have her answer. "I'm coming with."

 

[Scabhair]

The cold was the worst just before the dawn, when the earth had spent the whole night long cooling in the absence of the sun. Her body felt stiff despite the steady warmth at her back, but her eyes snapped from slumber to focus without a moment’s delay.

She considered the man by the fire for a few misting breaths before smiling. “Very well. Let’s make for Alliria then. Half of the purse should be more enough for a decent horse.”

Grinning, Scabhair stood and dusted herself off. Inodeirr rose to her feet somewhat more reluctantly, nuzzling against the orc as she packed up her belongings.

“Maybe we even make a decent rider out of you.”

 

[Corvus]

"Mmm," he mused, the sound punctuated by the mist of breath from his lips. Standing, he stretched, but didn't groan, and he scarcely seemed to notice the frosty chill in the air as he began putting out the fire. "I'm sure the horse will have a good home there."

He didn't plan to keep it, even if he was buying it. Horses and him... didn't much get along. He admired them - found them beautiful even - but that didn't mean he was comfortable around them. Far more common at home were pack livestock.

"And I wouldn't get my hopes up. I'm a great fighter but... riding?" He shook his head, dropping a palm to Scalf's head as he padded out of the treeline and came to stand alongside Corvus.

 

[Scabhair]

“And humble, too,” she said without looking up, biting her own lip to keep from laughing.

Inodeirr eyed the large wolf again, but made no attempts at violence (or worse, competition). Nothing worse than two beasts trying to prove which was the the one to send more men quivering home with shit in their pants.

Scabhair straightened at once, pack secured around her waist and shoulders. Casting one last look at the remains of the fire, the orc kicked some frigid dirt onto the ash, then turned to the northman.

“I run,” she said simply, no derision in her tone. “Can you keep up?”