Private Tales To Kill a Mocking Orc

Discussion in 'The Chronicles' started by Lagakh, Dec 21, 2018.

  1. Lagakh

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    Lagakh Shadowreaver

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    Laga wasn't sure what he meant by that first comment. Her magic was pretty potent for someone of the Shadowreavers, so it would have been quite powerful for a runic of that form. Or maybe he meant she didn't need it because she looked fine as is. Or maybe this Orc didn't know shit about magic.

    Either way, the comment was funny. Chuckling in turn, she tilted her head in response to the second question. "Magic is perception. I stole from Lessat so that darkness could overcome them. Rather than take revenge on me, Lessat took their sight because it was convenient. The drawings of the Rune detailed this exchange, at the cost of blood."

    She poked the pastry of the pie, it had gotten stiff in the cool air of the stone tavern. "First step to magic is understanding that it doesn't make sense. But methods that have been shown to work, well they work. So..." Her gaze lifted from the pie to the Orc as he remarked on the beer, mirroring her own penchant for consumption. "...fuck if I know. But it worked, didn't it."
     
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  2. Hath Charosh

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    He had already decided that one more beer was enough. Hath felt naked enough with just one knife tucked away in his furs. Dwarven beer was brewed strong for their constitution. Being drunk and barely armed in the middle of a town holding a grudge against orcs - even blight orcs - did not seem a sensible situation to put himself in.

    Hath chuckled, a low rumbling sound that resonated around the room. It had all sounded very mysterious and wise until she had admitted that she wasn't entirely certain on how it worked. A little look behind the curtain at the world of the shamans.

    "It worked well enough!" he said, before thinking the innkeeper for a fresh mug of ale.

    The innkeeper hadn't left the tableside. He stood, gaze going from one to the other.

    "So ye really killed the other orcs?" he asked.
     
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  3. Lagakh

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    She nodded, lips thinning to the corner of her mouth. It had worked well enough but blood magic, particularly when using one's own blood, was an extremely delicate matter. And she was about as delicate as a bull running through a glass shop. "Luck can ge-."

    She stopped as the innkeeper butted in, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. Laga sat back and finished off the rest of her ale, offering the empty tankard to the stocky man. "Get me another..." Her cheeks inflated as she contained a belch. "Another ale and I'll tell you all about it." She uttered in rougher than normal human, crossing her arms to mimic the small figure as he took the cup.

    He was back in no time, not without his gruff, as he plopped the tankard down. "O'right, out with it. Ye kill 'em or not?"

    "The Cuddler did most of it..." She pointed to Hath. "Saw him shoot an arrow right through a Hill Giants face..."

    "Ya fookin shittin' me...No one fights one of them mean basterds and lives to tell it!"

    "We did, had to go through him to get to the Blights..."

    The innkeeper stood flabbergasted. Laga looked towards Hath and shrugged. "I think he likes you..." She managed out without laughing, much to her own surprise.
     
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  4. Hath Charosh

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    "I wasn't sure if I was going to get involved or just put arrows in them all and run," he admitted. "Didn't fancy tackling a hill giant up close. Not without more of a plan. It didn't want to get up again though."

    He wasn't even that good at killing with an axe. Or at least he hadn't been. Within his tribe he was one of the best shots but never close to the most fearsome warriors. The last year he had been in far more fights than the preceding ten years. Each time he survived he learned a little more.

    "Was it Shadow Reavers you came from?" he asked, trying to recall earlier conversation. It hadn't been committed to memory that well. Not compared to the stress of the fighting.
     
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  5. Lagakh

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    "Yeah, Hill Giant might get the wrong idea if you start trying to wrestle with him..." Laga replied with a curt smirk in Orcish, looking away from Hath and towards the Innkeeper.

    She could tell the man was elated, likely not used to just hearing Orcs shoot the breeze, even in another langauge. But he was doing a good job of hiding it at his distance, taking to the pose of wall flower quite well. And the Orcs were evidently happy to be plied with ale and meat pie for the exchange of interestingly foreign discourse.

    "Aye..." Her gaze shifted back to the Orc across the table. Lifting the ale to her mouth, she murmured into the tankard. "Half anyway. Strong as the lot of 'em."
     
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  6. Hath Charosh

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    "Might have thrown me off a mountain," he reflected of the giant with a tilt of his head. From what he had heard they were not typically so easy to get out of the fight.

    In some ways it was more predictable to fight an animal like a savanna troll. At the same time they were often far more dangerous when driven by hunger. A hungry troll tended to keep coming until its legs had been lopped off.

    "They from North of here?" he asked. "Don't know the region well."
     
  7. Lagakh

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    They were in the foot hills, hardly more than a toe slope. The ale was getting to the Orc's memory. Laga pegged that as odd, given his size and age; he should have been far better and holding his liquor.

    "You're awfully nosy about the Shadowreavers, eh?" She set the tankard down on the table, hand curling into a fist. Except for the index, that remained firmly pointed in the larger Orcs direction. Eyes narrowing, thoughtfully, she chewed on her lower lip. "Yeah." Nodding, she retracted the threatening index finger, poking the remains of her meat pie with the tongued fork.

    "Closer to the coast. West of Molthal..." It was a long trek from here to her home; the thought of it turned her stomach. "What about you? Savannah. Aberrasai, right? Awfully far from home to be roaming the Spine."

    She gave a hard look towards the Innkeeper who went quickly back to washing down the bar-top with a damp linen.
     
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  8. Hath Charosh

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    Hath hadn't thought asking about another's clan was terribly impertinent, even with someone he didn't know. Perhaps it was asking around the location that had earned him that accusatory finger?

    "Very far," he agreed. "A very long journey north across the Steppes and then east. Nearly an entire year of travel. I travelled to Bhaithark once and wanted to see the Spine and visit the Ashlanders. When the weather is right I will attempt to scale one of the peaks with my mate."

    Hath chuckled before taking another swig of ale. "I was not used to the cold. I think Ive become accustomed enough to try the heights now."
     
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  9. Lagakh

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    She was simply being prickly; it was her nature when ale was involved. The truth of the matter is that she didn't mind the questions, it was a subject just like anything else. Minding that, the only topic she seemed content to stray from was the matter of her mixed heritage and how that came to be.

    “Climbing mountains for the sake of it sounds like a fools errand…” She smiled coyly, placing the nearly empty tankard back down next to the remains of a cold meat pie. “You don't look like a fool, Charosh of the warm Savanah…”

    Her hand curled into a fist as she placed it against her mouth, stifling another burp. And just then, a gong sounded from the clear strike of a hammer against a large bell. It was close, enough to rattle the glass coverings of the lanterns and shake the table. And then it rang again.

    Laga snapped towards the Barkeep and lifted her hands in a very ‘what the fuck’ gesture. “Aye it's the alarm, lass. Seems we got more comp’ny.”

    Laga sighed heavily and stood up, patting herself down as the barkeep grabbed his massive weapon. “Company…maybe the gate dwarves will give you your ax back.” She spoke in thick Orcish as she finished off the remainder of her drink.
     
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  10. Hath Charosh

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    "Looks can be deceiving," he chuckled. It had always been that way for him. He could not understand an orc that could look at an open plain, a valley or a hill and not feel and urge to explore it just so there was somewhere to go.

    It took orcs of all kinds to spread across Arethil. They were one of the most adaptable species. Some wandered far and wide. Others set down routes and built tribes. His parents were the latter kind of orc, which had made him wonder why he was the former.

    There was no time to go into the subject further, not that he was going to be so forthcoming about his own way of life to a stranger.

    The hammer on the wall wasn't for show it seemed. The barman took it down carefully as if embracing an old friend. Then his stubby fingers gripped it tight and tested the weight. He gave the pair an appreciative nod for both draining their mugs before heading off to what could be a battle. A time old dwarven tradion, Hath had been told. He hadn't been mimicking it. Had just seemed a waste to leave it.

    There were several dwarves rushing down the street. Most carried an axe or hammer with a shield slung across the back.

    "What it is?"

    "Orc scouts spotted."

    "Someone saw wolf riders!"

    Hath remained oblivious to the exchanges in dwarven tongue.
     
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  11. Lagakh

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    A fool came in many forms, it seemed. Though, she took him for a clever one nonetheless. But the conversation would have to continue later, there were matters that needed tending.

    Laga groaned as they made their way back to the gate, listening to the goings back and forth between the various dwarves. Noting a somewhat candidly confused expression splaying across the dimly lit face of Hath, Laga waved him along and spoke back in Orcish. "Orc scouts. Wolf riders. They brought reinforcements in preparation of fighting the one who cuddles."

    Part of that was true, anyway.

    She approached the gate with a heavy step, there were no dwarves around. Not even a single one guarding the chest. Anger swelled as she kicked open the large chest, knocking the lid against the spiked wood fencing. "They only care about baubles when it belongs to them..." She seethed openly in Orcish, reaching in to grab her bone club. An irritated look crossed over as she looked to Hath, waiting for him to pull out his ax.

    "I hope that Hill Giant limped his way back here for seconds." She didn't have the energy for manifesting the sort of change seen in the foot hills. All she could muster rested against her skin and the bone of her club. It would have to do.
     
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  12. Hath Charosh

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    "I don't," Hath replied stoically. A hill giant on his own with a cowardly streak had been easy to see the back of. If it came back riled up and driven by a back of orcs it could make a mockery of a dwarven shield wall.

    There weren't many fighters here and the city wasn't built to weather a siege. The dwarves were doing what Hath would have expected them to do. With many still taking shelter in the mine some moved to the gate, others were deeper in the town preparing to hold the street leading to the mine entrance.

    "Don't know how the blight orcs will come - if they do. Always take their damned orders from the fire giant or one of his kin." They had come from the same culture, but Hath couldn't guess what goals they would be working to. It was odd to reflect on that: known the motivation of a dwarf more clearly than an orc.

    "Got any more magic?" he asked. Hath had his axe but was planning on keeping behind stout dwarves and loosing some arrows first.
     
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  13. Lagakh

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    "Different strokes, I suppose..." She uttered in reply to the comment regarding the Hill Giant. When slighted, she was easily scorned and the only way to resolve it was direct interaction. Of course, even if the Hill Giant got riled up, he was a still a baby that nearly passed out at the sight of his own blood.

    Could be an even fight but with the proper application of magic, Laga assumed it wouldn't be a fair one.

    "Hmm. Menalus..." She nodded as she rubbed the bone club with a hand, the shimmer of blue trailing through the runs before dispatching and dissolving into the white. Beer had elevated her sense of self worth but the meat pie was what would help them now, giving her enough calories to have another go at some form of magic. It wouldn't be the same as before, not to the same magnitude.

    "Yeah..." She said quietly, having mentally wondered off for a moment. "There's always more magic when I look in the right place..." Eyes of coal turned towards the gate as those who considered themselves warriors began to stand at the ready. "Not enough for them though. Some of them could use it..." Gaze trailed towards the barkeep. "Except him...I think he'll be fine."

    The hammer looked to weigh a third of her, but the stout man carried it like a loaf of bread. It was kind of awe inspiring, given the clear lack of magic augmenting his strength.
     
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  14. Hath Charosh

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    Hath didn't quite trust magic. It wasn't an irrational fear. He travelled alone and took his time doing so. He used his experience and patience to work his way around the dangers he could touch, smell or see. Magic was different, it was beyond his perception. The subtle magic of his own clan's shamans was something he had come to appreciate, but what she carried and used was very different.

    The innkeeper did carry himself like a warrior. A real warrior.

    "Most dwarves can put up a fight," he said from experience. They were more like orcs than humans in that regard. "The women fight too, not like humans. Not that I can tell the difference."

    Shorter beards, he had been told. But the younger men also had shorter beards.

    "I'm going to take my bow and get on that building," he declared.
     
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  15. Lagakh

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    As much as she was loathe to admit it, she had very little experience with the human race. She had heard nothing but bad things regarding their mannerisms, the way they viewed the physical world, and the way they held little respect for customs or patience. In many way, she thought of them as similar to the Blight Orcs. They seemed myopic and set upon their own gains.

    "Women should fight." She responded, doing her best to fight off the implication that women should somehow not be involved in the defense of their own realm. "Doesn't make much sense for them not to." All among the Shadowreavers could fight, though as Hath had likely noticed, women had begun taking the reigns of leadership in regards to to the Ashlanders.

    "Fine." She uttered, waving off the incredulity that came with an Orc fighting from afar. This was simply his way, Laga assumed. While Hath seemed like a tactician or strategist, Laga simply didn't have the patience or time for it.

    "Hey!" She screamed at a couple of dwarves in common tongue, pointing her club. Walking towards them, she pointed to the undulated hills that ran beneath the fencing. "Post up someone there..." She moved the club. "And there. Also..." Digging the club into the ground, she leaned towards one of them. "You got any shields? That gate comes down, you're gonna wish you had 'em."

    "Aye aye, good eye lass!" The orange bearded man responded with a pat of his chest. "Boys, get the fuckin' shields already."
     
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  16. Hath Charosh

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    Hath had a meadure of respect for a dwarven crossbow. They were not ideal for a skirmish at the dead of night, especially if outnumbered. He doubted any of the dwarves would get more than a shot off. Though he did notice that some had two loaded crossbows at their feet. His intention was to get at least a few arrows away. If it turned out there were wolf riders he might pick a few off from up here.

    He quite agreed with her on the subject of women fighting, but there wasn't the time to discuss it any more. There were hardly any women in the scouting parties that sortied out from Vel'Anir. Many, though not all, human settlements still had more set roles for the genders than orcs and dwarves followed.

    Dwarves routed to the spot with shields were very difficult folk to rout. Arrows clattered as he dropped them into a stone gutter. He dropped to one knee, drew his bow a few times to warm it up. Then he waited.
     
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  17. Lagakh

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    She was pleasantly surprised with the quick response, given the malaise and lethargy that often struck these sort of mining towns. Between sickness and the general feeling of repetitiveness, she imagined the amount of get-up-and-go wasn't running thick through the small miners village.

    She heard it first, wind slapping hard against the torch lights that lit the front gate. Beyond the flames, the empty abyss of night was only given mild reprieve from the light of Lessat. A horn blew loudly and carried across the breeze, echoing endlessly against the inner valley walls.

    Gritting her teeth, Laga breathed in deeply before running her hands against the bone club. The light shimmered blue across the white but stood strong, resonating like perpetual breath. Running her fingers across her skin, the runes took on a dull purple glow as each drew power from her. Like beacons raised against the ridges against the spine, eventually she was coated in the pulsating glow.

    The wooden fencing rattled and growls came forth, encumbered by the sounds of metal clashing against metal and boulders crashing against stone walls. The first sign of the fight came with a singular blight orc, mounting the spiked posts of the outer village fencing. As he landed, he came face to face with the less than impressive shield wall and was pinned forcibly against the inner fencing. Another came down behind them, standing not 5 paces from a soon to be enraged shaman.

    She let out a frustrated grunt before charging head long towards him, his crudely cut saber held skyward in preparation for defending himself.
     
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  18. Hath Charosh

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    The third orc to cross the fence jerked as he reached the top. He fell forwards, left hanging limply by his ankle trapped between the wooden posts. It's sword fell from its scabbard to lie on the ground, brushed by the swaying fingertips of the dying orc.

    Hath nocked another arrow. Orcs and dwarves shared exceptional night vision. He could make out the shapes closing on the fence now. It was impossible to miss the shaman closing on the fence. The purple glow almost made it seem that she had lit herself on fire.

    Hath breathed out, drew in one smooth motion and sighted an orc reaching for the fence. He loosed, taking the chance that his arrow would pass between the fence posts. It paid off and the orc fell. It seemed that shooting through the fence would provide a greater reward than aiming at them further out when they were moving quickly and potentially carrying shields.

    The numbers the attacks held would soon become clear. A raiding party the size of the last one would soon fall back given a more organised defence. A larger party would soon find another part of the fence to probe.
     

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