- Messages
- 23
- Character Biography
- Link
Months had passed since Bula's encounters with the ice trolls that separated her from her tribe. There was a pang in her chest for the familiar, but tonight Bula could not spare the time to mourn her own losses. Instead, she had a belly to fill that growled angrily at her. It'd been weeks since she'd had anything truly considered sustainable and tonight, the orc was out hunting. Through the shadows, Bula crept. Her eyes remained peeled for any sign of fauna that could be prepared.
She tried to ignore the chill that bit at the night air, just as she tried to pretend her body wasn't in starvation mode. There were a few traps in the region that she intended to check, hoping for rabbits or squirrels with which to make a meat stew. What she didn't expect was the haunting echo of a chant she'd not heard in some time. A shiver ran down Bula's spine as she stopped in her tracks, pointed ears twitching as her tusked mouth fell agape. Was that... a war chant?
It wouldn't be the first time that Bula heard the spirits of her ancestors where she least expected it, and the idea that she'd found a trace of her clan that likely wasn't living sent a pang through her chest that she disliked greatly. It came from south of her, the steady, familiar rhythm of her people's own warsongs. Her heart pounded and her hands fell to the dual hatchets at her side as she finally embarked on a mission to get closer to the chant's source.
After about ten to fifteen minutes of following the song toward its source, Bula finally smelled smoke in the air. Using that to guide her too, the orc eventually found her way to a smouldering fire--and a figure ahead. Whoever, or whatever, it was... they breathed a familiarity that the prodigal daughter of Mabess yearned for. She approached, her presence made known with the audible, intentional, snapping of a branch underfoot. She wanted the figure to see her and react before she greeted them.
She tried to ignore the chill that bit at the night air, just as she tried to pretend her body wasn't in starvation mode. There were a few traps in the region that she intended to check, hoping for rabbits or squirrels with which to make a meat stew. What she didn't expect was the haunting echo of a chant she'd not heard in some time. A shiver ran down Bula's spine as she stopped in her tracks, pointed ears twitching as her tusked mouth fell agape. Was that... a war chant?
It wouldn't be the first time that Bula heard the spirits of her ancestors where she least expected it, and the idea that she'd found a trace of her clan that likely wasn't living sent a pang through her chest that she disliked greatly. It came from south of her, the steady, familiar rhythm of her people's own warsongs. Her heart pounded and her hands fell to the dual hatchets at her side as she finally embarked on a mission to get closer to the chant's source.
After about ten to fifteen minutes of following the song toward its source, Bula finally smelled smoke in the air. Using that to guide her too, the orc eventually found her way to a smouldering fire--and a figure ahead. Whoever, or whatever, it was... they breathed a familiarity that the prodigal daughter of Mabess yearned for. She approached, her presence made known with the audible, intentional, snapping of a branch underfoot. She wanted the figure to see her and react before she greeted them.
