Private Tales To Err is Human

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
»Gorgoya does as Gorsgoya pleases, everyone listens to her, with good reason though,« she tilted her head, blinking casually. The old she-orc gave the younger one a side-eye.
»You should go to bed sometime soon too,« the elder remarked in orcish.
Ubabe shrugged back before adressing Volker, taking the empty bowl. She didn't have much knowledge on what the elder was planneing to do, other than fix him right up.
»I'll remember for later, the name's Ubabe by the way.«
 
Volker knew that, on some level, Gorgoya was right. He did need to sleep. He’d eaten, and the siren song of sleep was starting to build. A full belly and warmth did that to a man. “Ubabe.” He repeated. “I will have questions for you in the morning. Several of us will.” He laid down, making sure he was pointed at the elder. He wanted to keep tabs on her.

He closed his eyes, but he wasn’t about to get any rest. He felt Nestor’s hand the minute he dropped into the Well. “Have you gone insane? Get up and get out!” The poisoner snapped at him. “Laying there like a broken leg is the worst of your problems.”

“Well, they don’t know who you are. Oor hasn’t shown up yet. My guess is he’ll either send Chaceledon to fetch you, or come down on these people.” A tow headed man remarked, arms folded over his chest. Like the poisoner he was tall, but much fairer of complexion. “I think we ought to make the most out of this. There’s no way to get back to camp with that leg.”

“Oh yes Ferenzi, when my undead maniac of a boss appears I always make sure I found myself comfortable and napping.” Nestor sneered. “Consorting with savages won’t get us anywhere.”

“And being rude will get us hung.” Ferenzi replied.

Volker sighed and shook his head. “I cannot make it down the mountain alone. Have the others weighed in?”

“Klaus is desperately trying to tell on you, Aluid thinks this is all very funny and Yarel patently refuses to be of any use whatsoever.” Ferenzi shrugged. “I think, other than us, you’re on your own. Do your best to sleep until morning.”

Volker woke quickly when the sun rose. He couldn’t remember where he was. He did snarl and cringe a bit; that leg was still very broken.
 
'Several of us'
That evening, Ubabe went in for a talk with Mabess... The sky sign in the night was that of Stormcaller, the son and his bow.
Searching, fleeting, hunting, stalking. The stars peered through the gaps in the cloth.
It was the middle of the season of the rut.

The year would only get colder from now on.



Life was already teeming in the camp. with silhouettes of orcs of various statures passing by the sad attempt at a door made out of tailored goatskins.

Gorsgoya was still asleep and for a good while, nobody paid a mind to one of the Shaman's huts.
At least until Ubabe knocked on the door and entered in a moment after.
Around her arm was a wrapping of cloth, likely made out of elk skin.
»You awake? «

Gorsgoya snored so loudly she woke herself up for a moment. She grunted something ilegible in orcish.
 
Volker rubbed at his head. Arguments, all night. Mostly between Ferenzi and Nestor, two elders of the Well. Having the dead live in his skull wasn’t peaceful even at the best of times. It always made him feel as though he’d slept with one eye open, or that his brain had never truly gone to sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been restful.

Ubabe was back again. “I am awake.” He assured her, wrapping the furs up around his shoulders. The nights were getting colder. At this point in the year he’d probably be returning to Witherhold. His master’s estate was rife with abuse, but at least it was warm and food was plentiful.

“There are several of us who wish to speak with you.” Volker told her. “Or whomever is in charge. When you are ready. Until then..” He looked back over at his clothes and carefully crept over, keeping his leg still. He slowly grabbed his shirt, trying not to disturb the elder.
 
Seemingly like an all-knowing presence. Gorsgoya sprung to her feet like a young sapling and smacked him rightfully over the hand.

»Your clothes are not even fit to be used as butt wipes,« she began to scold before noticing what the younger she-orc brought.
»Come in come in, I see you brought the new skins.«

Ubabe lifted the pelts, stepping to Volker, »Got you some new clothes, they'll keep you warm...«
She offered him the neatly folded clothes. »Get ready, I bet Gorsgoya will help you with the leg, but the Chieftain will want to speak with you later. I can't really help you with anything else though.«
 
Volker hissed when he was struck a third time. “What they are good for is not for you to determine, old woman!” He snarled. He had just about enough of her. He settled back, wincing at the pain in his leg, and grudgingly took the furs that Ubabe offered him. He pulled the shirt over his head. He would try and get dressed when the other two left. There was not a chance in any of the nine hells he was letting himself be dressed like an invalid. He would bite her first.

“I am ready. This cannot wait.” He told Ubabe, looking at the pants to try and figure out how he would possibly get it around the splint without moving his leg too much. It would hurt.
 
»As long as you are under my roof, you will listen to me, « scolded the elder, letting out some orcish curses between the words.
Ubabe let out a chuckle as she slowly slid out of the hovel.

»Now, let's get you dressed, « then the she-orc nonchallantly pulled down both layers of the bear pelts. (Or at least made an attempt to)
 
That was it.
He held on to the furs and roared at her. He sounded like someone had managed to throw several rabid lions from the crest of a cliff, and he was not shy about expressing how totally and completely uncomfortable he was.

“I will dress myself, woman!” Volker snapped at her. That was a warning. If she insisted she would get a decent bite to the shoulder. Nothing lethal, but he would absolutely draw blood. He withdrew from her as much as humanly possible, holding the furs to himself protectively.
 
Gorsogya rose a brow as she placed her hands on her hips. »And who will pull your pants over your bottom, «
She remembered the old wisdom
»Who's gutting the human, « suddenly a big burly orc poked his head through the door cloth.
He wasn't alone, obviously... »Did the human die, « a second orc poked. And from behind 5 more orcish head, barely tryig to get a glimpse of the interior... »I heard something squeling granny, what was that.«

»GET OUT GET OUT, have you no shame, the human is obviously embarrased! « Gorsgoya grabbed for the broom and chased the other orcs out.
Patting off her hands, she turned back to Volker.
»If you'll behave I'll make it easy for you, if not, I'll still get those damn panths over your arse. «
 
How in hell could it get worse? He was warning her off as best he could when men poked their heads in. He was absolutely flabbergasted by the old woman. How could she see that having people in the room was a problem but didn’t include herself in that?

Volker eyed her. “Old woman, if you put your hands anywhere near me, I will tear your throat out and it will be your own fault.” He growled. “Let me do this.”

He ducked under the furs and contorted his working leg, managing to get one foot through. The other leg...he put a bit of the fur in his mouth, and bent his knee. He almost passed out from the pain alone. Volker put his ankle through and flopped back, exhausted.

Now all he had to do was pull them up. He could do this.
 
Gorsgoya narrowed her eyes. He was like a little child. His comments were odd though, or maybe he was just shit at speaking common. She then tipped her lips with her fingers.
What was that old saying? Sometimes you need to let a child play with fire to have them learn a lesson.

»No, you're ruining my splint! « She snapped out, hissing in concern.
 
Volker took a few deep breaths. “The splint will hold. I am not damaging it.” He told her, albeit in a gentler tone now that she wasn’t trying to whip the furs off him. He waited a few minutes, then slowly sat up and gently worked the pant leg up around the splint. He was slow and careful, even when he got it up above his knee, to make sure the fabric didn’t catch.

He slowly pulled it up to his rear, and folded his other leg under him, as though he were attempting to sit crisscross. He lifted himself up with that one leg, and yanked the pants up to his hips. He fastened them, and set the bear furs aside.

“The splint is intact.” He informed Gorsgoya. “I am ready to meet your chieftain.”
 
She put her hands again on the hips and stared like a hungry vulture.
»Very well then. Was it worth the pain? « Of course...she would not stop nagging.
»Good, the chief will see you when she wills. Now... how about some breakfast. «
 
“Yes.” Volker said plainly, picking up the bear furs and quietly beginning to fold them and set them in a neat stack. As rough as he was, he’d been raised to keep everything clean and neat. He looked at her. He wasn’t sure he could pay this back. He’d had one meal, fresh clothing and had a nasty break in his leg set. That meant he owed them. The longer he stayed here the more that debt deepened.

“I am fine.” He told Gorsgoya. “I already owe you a considerable debt for my leg. One that my master will not approve of. The others already disapprove of what I have taken from you.”
 
Gorsgoya scratcher her head, then wheezed in a cackle » you've taken nothing you fool.«
»If you feel indebted you'll talk it over with the Chieftain. «
 
Volker shook his head. “Gifts are debt without name.” He sounded as though he were reciting something. “I am fine, but I owe you for food, for shelter, for my leg. You did not have to save me and spent resources doing so. I do not leave debts unpaid. In this we are all in agreement, even the most mad of us.”
 
Gorsgoya eyed him suspiciously, she may have said somethng but.. -
»Gorsgoya, may I have a minute,« Through the door peered the she-orc with a head dense from thick curcly locks.

»Oh thank god, he's driving me insane,« wheezed the older lady before whining: »Said he'll bite my neck through when I wanted to help him.«
Mabess rose a brow, looking over at the bedridden.

Both of hem exchanged places and Gorsgoya was soon on her way, while Mabess stepped inside, and sat down on a stool.
»I see you don't quite get along with my shaman... « She began, placing her elbow on her knee and her chin between the fingers like a brazier on a stand.
 
Volker waited patiently, but he needn’t have waited long. Another orc poked her head through the tent and began to speak, albeit in her native tongue. It was likely that the old woman was complaining right back at her, given her tone. Volker had his head high on his shoulders; he was not ashamed about defending his own dignity, and he was glad when the old woman went on her way.

The female came inside and sat down. Thankfully, she seemed able to speak common as well as the others. “I do not.” Volker affirmed. “I do not like others touching me. Your shaman did not listen to me.” With Gorsgoya gone he reached over and snatched his clothing, setting them by his side. “I would have all of us present when speaking with you, if you are indeed the shaman. There is more than my opinion here, and while they may hear they cannot speak.”
 
Mabess patiently tapped her foot in a quiet rythm.
All of them. Ubabe already spoke of that little hiccup to her the previous night.
The chieftainess looked outside, then back at Volker. Seems like there were more things at play than merely a squeamish man.
Maybe he hit his head sliding on his way down.
»I am the chief of this tribe. Gorsgoya is merely one of our most respected shamans.«
»I assime you have many questions.«
 
Volker nodded, inclining his head in respect. She had him in a vulnerable position, disarmed and with a broken limb. By the looks of her, she could shred him if he complained too much. “I do.” He said. “One of which is the debt to you I owe. You did not have to save me, and while I would have eventually escaped there is no doubt I would have been worse off. You have fed me, and clothed me, and set my leg.”

Volker winced and put his head in his hand for a moment, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. “Nestor is demanding to know what was put on my leg, and he is giving me a headache.” He muttered, and shook his head. “How I pay the debt is up to you. If you wish I can call my master to discuss the terms.”

He wasn’t too keen on the second. There was little doubt the dead man would be in a spectacularly foul mood if he was made to negotiate with someone he’d see as a lesser creature. “I would have you come into the Well to discuss this with all of us present, but it will require trust on your part.” Volker told her. “I do not intend to harm you. If I did, the men I saw earlier would make my death more miserable than I’d prefer. But it is up to you.”

Volker sat up properly, shifting his weight. If he was going to bring her down into the spell in his skull, the last thing he wanted was to have them fall over while they were both incapacitated. “Bring your face closer to mine.”
 
»You'll have to thank Gorsgoya for her loving touch,« Mabess snickered before explaining further: »We've only set it for the trip back here, but... 'Nestor' will have to ask Gorsgoya for the salve.«

'the others' 'nestor giving a headache'
'going into the well' 'all present' 'trust'
'threatned to bite off the shaman's neck'

Listening further, the orc figured she was not willing to indulge. There was some serious bad Juju about him now as the pieces began to set together.
»I will have to politely decline your request,« the chieftain rose a brow, not nearing Volker, nor leaving her place. Her posture seemingly only more and more like a monumental stone.
»If you want to pay the tribe back, I have a task you could do in a month.«
 
Volker didn’t blame her. It was a dangerous proposition. There was a small amount of frustration, but he fought that down. He was used to being judged. A month. Could he really be out of commission for a month? Stuck here for a month? The thought was sobering, but it made sense. It was a broken leg, he wasn’t about to shake it off in a few weeks.

“I understand.” He said carefully. “What is the task you need from me?” He was willing to help her. Anything to keep the old woman out of the room for a little while longer. He didn’t do well with being harangued. He thought for a moment. How would he get down? There wasn’t a way he could think of to get off the mountain without aid.

“There is another matter. I would have my knives returned to me. They cement my place among my ancestors here.” He touched his head. “If I lose them, I do not know what will happen. There is more than my soul at stake here.”
 
»Your weapons are secure, and will likely stay so until you're back on your own feet. «
Mabess mused briefly. Would it matter if Volker knew now or later?
»One month from now, you will exterminate a gnoll nest that lives down south. It is them or us, such is the life in the spine.«
 
Volker frowned. He didn’t like the idea of his weapons being ‘secure’. “Make sure not to touch the blades.” Volker sighed and shook his head. “I do not like being separated from them. They are my livelihood. I do not get another.”

He listened to her and nodded. “Then I will eliminate the gnolls for you. It should be a simple matter once my leg heals. We have an accord. And I will attempt not to attack your shaman. She means well, she just does not listen.”

Well if he was to be bedridden he could at least learn. “I did not know there were clans of orcs here. Much less one led by a woman. You are portrayed differently.” He mentioned, looking her up and down. His mother would have a stroke.
 
"You need not worry, An ashlander knows to keep things safe."
The chieftainess leaned back, setting her palms on her legs.
"Old women tend to be like that, Goesgoya especially. Her herbs hasten healing like none other."

Briefly Mabess mused in her mind before letting out a chuckle. "Us ... We the Ashlanders are different." Or at least so she liked to think.
"What do you want to know and I may tell you of us more."
 
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