Private Tales To Kill a Mocking Orc

[Hath Charosh]

Hath was winning his fight. A few steps and swings and he knew it was only a matter of time. When he caught sight of Laga crashing through the palisades he decided to try and make that less time.

Hath dropped a step and raised his axe. As the orc tried to close the gap before it could come down he continued the movement. The butt of the ace's handle caught the orc under the chin. Hath sensed victory.

"Traitor!"

Hath heard the growl a moment before he was grabbed from behind and slammed into the wall. It seemed the huge orc he had shot at was holding onto his grudge. Very dwarven, Hath thought as he tumbled to the ground. He rolled as a sword struck the ground where he had been.

 

[Lagakh]

Laga came to rolling stop in the dark, just barely touched by the ambient torch lights from the small mining town. She was effectively a beacon of blue, shinning in the light of Lessat. At the edges of her aura, she saw the shadows of creatures and felt the aggressive nature abutting her presence. Wolves that had scampered off, and maybe more that followed the raiding party, were working to surround her and potentially block off her return to the village.

Lifting the club at the last moment and turning, she caught the bite of an overgrown wolf and tossed it to the ground. Delivering a deadly blow to its head, she had no time to intercept the next one. Sinking teeth into her shoulder and using it's body as leverage, it dragged the short orc to the ground. Screaming and turning, she gouged the wolves eyeballs with imbued fingers and forced it to release its grip.

Letting out a yelp, it scurried off into the dark as she rushed to get to her feet. Huffing, she swung low into the dark, trying her best to prevent another attack. And then ran for it, charging back in through the fence that her formerly ragged body had broken. Just as she came through, she was tackled by a different wolf, sinking its teeth into the meat of her thigh.

She let out another scream as she tried to turn and with a yelp, the wolf released its bit and was flung against the nearby wall. The barkeep stood over her, holding his hammer and eyeing the beast.

"Got a good taste of ya, did he lass?"
She groaned as she stumbled back up, clutching her leg. "He tried."
"Did more than try, by the looks of it."
"You gonna yammer here all day or you gonna help him?" She nodded towards Hath and the large Orc. The barkeep looked over and nodded, patting the head of his hammer.
"Aye, I guess I ought to..." The short figure did his best impression of a run as he went in for support. Laga assured herself that she'd catch up.

 

[Hath Charosh]

With his axe out of reach Hath rolled to his feet and darted away to give himself some distance. He very nearly stumbled as he went. The wall had done its job on his skull. Hath drew the short sword at his belt

The orc that stalked him carried a longsword, stood nearly a head taller and wore nearly a full set of armour. Up close Hath could see that it was made of a mismatch of quality pieces of steel that had been beaten out of shape to fit him.

"Two of us, fighting with them?" the orc spat on the ground. Both of them looked towards the broken palisade after Lagakh. Hath could hear the snarling of wolves beyond the fragile wall.

The big orc took a sidestep to place his bulk between Hath and the gap in the palisade.

"If wolves don't get her, gonna rip her apart myself."

"Good luck with that." Hath launched forwards and stabbed low. His strike was parried and he had to launch himself backwards to avoid the counter sweep.

He was reduced to just defending himself from that moment. Working his short sword in a tight circle to keep himself from being cut down. He knew with the same certainty as the last fight who would come out on top. This time it was not him.

Hath made a dangerous lunge. It was foolish but it wasn't their way to run from a fight. Instead he wanted to leave a mark that his killer might remember him by.

The tip of his blade struck armor and deflected into soft flesh. It only pieced an inch before Hath felt the bite of a blade on his shoulder. His own short sword clattered to the ground. Hath fell away and another swipe opened a wide cut across his chest. Hath looked up from the ground and waited for the final blow.

"Oi, big fella!"

The two orcs looked towards the old innkeeper. Hath's opponent wasted no time in swinging for the dwarf.

Somehow the dwarf was simply not where the longsword went. Three more swipes caught nothing but air. The head of the hammer was driven into the orc's belly.

The orc roared in anger and lifted his blade high. There was a loud crack as his knee was buckled by the hammer.

The innkeeper laughed as the orc dropped to one knee.

"Now yer down to my height." The orc was grabbed by his tunic as the dwarf smashed his head into the orcs face. The hammer rose and fell just one more time.

Hath looked up from the ground, eyes wide.

"Ah don't ye worry. Bin cutting down orcs bigger'n that since before you were born."

 

[Lagakh]

Laga couldn't quite recall ever seeing a dwarf move as gracefully and purposely as the barkeep had. Sure, she had seen him take down the wolf and another orc with relative ease. But the way he fought the leader, he just seemed like a short hairy cat, playing with his food.

Laga limped towards the barkeep and Hath, dragging the bone club with her injured arm and gripping the shoulder bite with her other hand.

"Where'd you learn to move like that?"
"Oh ya know, here and there." He said as he propped the hammer on his shoulder. Looking towards Hath, he eyed the orc hybrid and nodded. "Got any of that magics left? Looks like ya both could use it." He said with a gruff as he pointed towards the broken palisade.

"Oi, get to it! It's not gonna fix itself! And keep ya shields, keep the wolves at bay!" The dwarves looked back towards the barkeep, giving various nods and shrugs before moving to gather the proper materials and tools. With that, the barkeep was off and moving back towards the Inn.

Laga plopped down next to Hath, grimacing at the bruise and bloody teeth marks on her thigh. "I can fix you." She stated quietly, without looking towards Hath. "But I'll need some materials...thinking maybe his blood." She pointed towards the dead Orc leader.

She was clearly in a particular mood.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Maybe you want to fix you," Hath suggested. The cut across his chest was bleeding, but ultimately superficial. The one in his shoulder was a deep, gaping wound. It would stop him swinging from his right arm. It wasn't going to kill him quickly. If his life depended on it then he could fight through. They had been opposed to one another so many times in history, but orcs and dwarves were both made of sterner stuff than the elves and humans.

"Are none of those deep?" he asked, waving at her thigh with his left hand. The sharp teeth of the wolves had left some puncture wounds. A bite in the wrong place would bleed out quickly enough. He had never seen the results of a wolf attack before. In the savanna they dealt with lions. And most of the time if a lion sank its teeth into you then you weren't walking away with a scar.

"We're missing clearing out the last of them," he bemoaned. He rolled to one side and came up to one knee. The orc leader was heavy, but Hath yanked his body closer inch by inch.

 

[Lagakh]

Her lips pulled tight at the base of her tusks. She was sure that her wounds weren't fatal and nothing more than scars added to the pool. But there was a euphoria with her magic, the sort that once the letdown came through, the added ache would crescendo from the tips of toes to the edge of her widows peak.

"Nothing a strong stout couldn't fix..." She retorted as she pulled her knees to her chest. Rummaging about at the base of her neck, she felt at the carved runes. Her fingers traced over the bulges of new scabs and slick blood as the glow had long subsided. It wasn't a pain any worse than getting a new tattoo across the cheek bone. Not yet.

"We cleared out the majority of them, that should be enough to sate you for now." Shifting her weight to the balls of her feet, she came to a kneel before hunching and inspecting the large orc. Curling her fingers around one of the large tusks of the leader, she jerked hard to open his mouth and look in. "So did you want the healing or not?" She finally uttered, letting the bloodied orcs mouse close as the jaws tightened.

He wasn't alive, not after a strike like that. But the body still needed time to adjust to the transition.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath wasn't certain. In the savanna the tribes were fiercely competing for food, especially in the dry season. They trusted their own above all others and that was especially true for shamans and their magics. A thousand different forms of their magic existed, just as their language and customs changed from tribe to tribe.

In every corner of the world you could find their people. They could survive anywhere. Even the ixchel wilds were known to hold tribes of particularly savage orcs.

The alternative was asking the dwarves to stitch his arm up and to hope that infection didn't take hold. Hath cast his eyes across the orc's notched and bloodied longsword and made up his mind.

He gave a sharp node and shuffled closer. He could see his axe and would retrieve that shortly. It was apparently an old dwarven design. He had beaten its own and taken it. Admittedly he had been hoping to win the affection of a female they had both been after during the Great Rites. The magical axe had been a consolation prize.

 

[Lagakh]

She nodded in return, certain that Hath wasn't aware of what he just agreed to. By her estimation, she might very well be popping Hath's runic magic cherry. And this sort dealt heavily in the medium and ink. His skin, the Orcs blood, and drawing power from the core by the very rune design. The Shadowreavers had learned long ago that as much as dealing damage was important, the laurels should include undoing it.

"Sit down..." She eyed the orc and then pointed. "On your ass, no kneeling. Get comfortable. This could take a moment." Or several. Some runes with specific complexity could take hours or days. This, clearly, would not be the case with Hath. Otherwise, Laga wouldn't have made the offer.

"Barkeep..." She yelled, loud enough for the man to turn on his slow way back to the inn. "Would you mind bringing some Ale...two full glasses and an empty one?" He shrugged and Laga could only assume that meant yes. In the mean time, she pulled a dagger from the dead orcs hip and nicked the flesh of his throat, just below the trachea. A small pool of blood formed in the dip of skin.

"I'll need a spot of your skin that isn't wounded. The back is preferable..."

 

[Hath Charosh]

At that request Hath also became certain that wasn't aware of what he had signed up for. He turned towards where the innkeeper had been, hoping that the two beers were not for numbing pain.

He had been struck several times and had his head smashed against a brick wall. It was the strike to his shoulder that was the serious wound. One that could easily fester and perhaps always stop him from using his right arm properly. This was going to be like having an arrow pulled out of bone, he suspected. Immense pain for a greater good.

Hath gave a shrug and twisted around. He pulled his tunic off and hunched over his knees to give Laga plenty of skin to work with. He was glad the dwarves were distracted by removing the last of the blight orcs and tending to their wounded. He was rather hoping for a hot meal and a roof over his head for his part in the skirmish and not to be chased out of town for orcish magics.

 

[Lagakh]

The barkeep sauntered back, carrying a jug in each hand and an empty jug hanging from a belt frog.

"Aye, more glowing lights eh?" He said as he huffed, bending over and placing the beers in front of Hath. Moving to the side, he placed the empty jug next to Laga. "I assume this ones not for beer..."

Laga looked up and smirked, nodding. "You know more than you let on." With a finger nail coated in the Orc leaders blood, she began to inscribe the outer periphery of a rune against Hath's back. Looking intently at the Rune, she paid it serious concentration. "No glowing lights, not this time."

Her wounds had all but scabbed up, some running clear with serous drainage. She tried her best to pay it no attention, instead pouring her focus into the task at hand. "Don't squirm." She bleated out. "And one of those beers is for me. Don't hog it."

The barkeep laughed and shook his head, working his way back to the Inn.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath eyed the beer. It was nice and foamy. He could smell the hops. Whilst he wanted to reach out and take it he suspected moving that much would lead to a swift slap of annoyance from the shaman behind him.

All he could feel on his back was a scratch of Laga's nail. Nothing hurt yet. He expected that magic that was good for you usually hurt. Just like stitching. Magic always has a price. Everyone knew that. Orcs felt it. The natural rhythm of the world. Humans didn't. They took as much as they could, heedless of the cost as long as it was inflicted on others.

He breathed steadily, trying to stay still whilst also bracing for the moment of pain.

 

[Lagakh]

Magic did have a price. Everyone and their mom, Orcs included, knew that. However, the understanding of time and sacrifice was often missed in that component of tutelage. What would never be understood, as Laga wasn't inclined to explain it, was that the price had already been paid - battle, defeat, and death. There could be no price more steep.

"Can you hand me one of those?" She pointed her offhand over his shoulder, indicating towards one of the beers, as she stopped her scratching for a moment. It wasn't necessary for her to abrade his skin but absent a fine brush for the necessary details, her finger nail was all that would afford the proper detailed runic drawings.

"We can take a break for a moment..." She offered prior to him retrieving the drink. She was tired and could use a quick pick-me-up. Besides, it was unlikely that infection would set in once his immune system was set to task.

Scanning over her shoulder, she spied a few dwarves watching her from behind their tower shields. Lifting her hand dismissively towards them, she flicked them the appropriate gesture that would likely only be understood in her clan. "Hey, fuck off! Get back to your fence repair!"

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Why did they bring back the others?"

"Yer wanna ask?"

"And why help here?"

"Again, yer wanna ask?"

"Na."

Hath ignored the muttered conversation from the dwarves and reached for the mug. He twisted at the waist to pass it over his shoulder. He tried to look down at what she had done, but it was quite impossible to regard your own back.

He took the beer and downed half of it in one go. He did not want the shaman to finish hers and force him to sit still with the temptation just beyond reach again.

"Salted meat and beer for your efforts today," he said. It was hard to tell that he was joking.

 

[Lagakh]

Salted meat did sound nice. Time in the Spine meant she fed decently, but not always well spiced. Her wounds may have continued to weep but at the thought of more salt, she began to salivate. A thing quickly cured by the beer, handed over the shoulder of the Orc beneath her nails.

"It is two triangles stacked on top of one another, written sharply and repeatedly..." She stated quietly, taking a deep swig of the beer and sighing. As she set the half full jug back down, she began again on the Rune without any hint of intention.

"Hold two mirrors, face to face, and see the reflection. Now place the triangles in that center point and rotate the mirrors..." She stated, quietly once more, as her nail began to carve again. "It eventually forms a complex circle. That is the rune forming on your back, much to the dismay!" She spoke sharply as she looked over her shoulder at two lookie-loos. "Of two soon-to-be dead dwarves!"

They shook and rattled as they scurried off towards the Inn. Her irritation was clear and while they likely questioned the chances of two orcs saving them only for one of them to kill the remainder of the town in a sudden rage, they weren't sticking around to see what happened. She proceeded to continue. "Don't worry, it's much prettier than what was here previously."

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Grumpy folk."

"Aye."

"Maybe they think they're dwarves?"

"Hah!"

The conversation didn't quite leave Hath's ears as the dwarves scurried away. He didn't know what Lagakh was describing, but he found it oddly relaxing to hear her desribe it as her nail was drawn across his skin.

Hath set the jug down on the ground between his knees. He was part of a tribe, but a lone hunter who could go weeks without seeing one of his own. As comfortable as he was in complete silence it was nice to hear his own tongue.

"The mark will stay then?" he asked. There was no concern in his tone. Orcs lived harsh lives and their history was often writ in scar tissue.

"Do you even have room left for more runes?" he asked. He couldn't feel anything more than a faint tinge, which he assumed was down to nothing more than her touch. Hath had never been particularly sensitive to magic.

 

[Lagakh]

She shook her head, doing her best to ignore the various conversations that were taking place around them. It didn't seem to matter that she knew full well that Hath couldn't see it. "It is a temporary mark...I would have to cut much deeper for it to stay put." She stopped drawing for a moment and thought. "It may remain in the shadow of its current self, brought to life with exposure to the sun. But that's about it."

Pressing her nail back against his back, she took another gulp from the jug and wiped her mouth with a bare forearm. The comment regarding her marks was one that brought a smile to her face, even if it was a sad expression. "I began the act of scar casting after my mother died. It was what was required to maintain the position of battle-mage."

She dipped her finger in the blood, now flowing out into the soil and wetting the areas around the orc leaders throat and began another stack of triangles. "There is always room for more."

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Maintain the position? You inhereted it after her death? How large is to you tribe?"

The questions came in quick succession. No sympathy was offered for her mother. Clearly it had happened a time ago. As large and ferocious as there kind was compared to the humans there was far worse than orcs in the wild.

"How do you even make those marks?"

 

[Lagakh]

It was better to not have to go into more detail. Discussing her mother and how she was executed via starvation was one issue. Discussing the fact that Laga approved of the methodology was a separate matter altogether. She didn't mourn for her mothers death, only in the poor choices that led to it.

"Fairly small. But all are of similar strength and capability..." Small enough to be easily raided by a prisoner detachment from Molthal. Small enough for her mother to be captured and raped by a gaunt elf with the markings of overly tight shackles, still evident upon his wrists. "I did not inherit it. But I had to maintain it."

Stopping again to take another drink, she dipped her finger once more in the well of blood. "It's a matter of pressure." She stated coldly, abrading his skin once more. "Some of my markings were forcibly cut. Others were...magically inclined." Laga had always had difficulty in taking a blade to her face. She imagined that it wasn't vanity as much as just nearness to the business end of a dagger that gave her pause.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Some tribes ride giant lions, others all carry magical stretch etched into their skin. I am starting to feel that my own tribe of plain old orcs is the extreme."

Staying as still as possible he took the mug of ale from between his legs for a drink. He imagined that being marked in such a way with intricate patterns would gradually become more and more painful. By comparison being scratched across his back by a nail was quite pleasant. A woman's nails scratching across his back evoked memories of better times that he was too tired to entertain.

"So not all of them are for your magic?" he asked.

 

[Lagakh]

She thought on the idea of being from a normal tribe. Working her way through the healing process, she decided that while it may have been novel to be in such a rare circumstance, she couldn't find the utility in it.

"They're all magic..." The scratching stopped as the rune was finished. Rubbing her hands together, she pressed a palm against the center of the rune. "But only some were magically created."

Just then he would feel an intense heat across the center of his back as she channeled energy into the rune. That heat would radiate outward, filling his skin and limbs with something between frostbite and numbing warmness. The sort of sensation that often made Laga question whether she was too hot or too cold.

"There..." There should have been very little pain, if any. But discomfort would be profound. "Your body is being persuaded to heal itself."

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath grunted from the back of the throat as the sensation spread through him. For being a method of healing it felt rather too close to suffering from illness. A bit of ache in the joints and it would have been quite like the time he had nearly succumbed to disease in his childhood.

All he could remember for a few of those days was the occasional awareness of his shivering body. The sight of his mother actually looking concerned about his wellbeing for once. This was not comparable, but it still was not pleasant.

Hath looked down at his shoulder, feeling a sense of heat - or was it ice - settle into the wound it self. That did actually sting a little as the flesh was willed into mending itself.

Hath drained the rest of his mug.

"Thank you," he said. He placed his left hand on his shoulder and made a small gesture of thanks where she would be able to see it. "You gonna treat those bites?" he asked. Orcs were tough creatures but they were still not designed to be gnawed on by a giant wolf.

 

[Lagakh]

She shook her head and smirked, sliding her hand away from the rune on his back. "You have a lot to learn, Charosh of the fiararch..." The act of drawing the rune was as much advantageous for him as it was her. The concentration needed to continually pour in energy and draw the complex symbols, it cascaded into her markings as well. Like the slow energy of a cactus from the sun, she had pulled energy to begin healing her wounds.

"I should be healed by nights end." Though some of the more obtrusive scars would take a bit longer to fully heal. She found that magically inclined wounds could not be so easily healed through magic.

Leaning over, she pulled the cork from the earthen jug and lifted the dead orcs head up. The wound on the throat began to gush and while not totally efficient, she was able to manage to capture enough to eventually fill it to brim. Eyeing dwarves around her, she looked back towards Hath.

"His blood has some power to it..." Just like the whining giants. "Best not to waste it." Once she was done, she'd be ready to head back into the Inn for another drink.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"His arm had plenty of power in it too."

He felt a need to repay the innkeeper in some way but had nothing to be offered. Despite the fact that the town was indebted to them both for bringing back the abducted dwarves it did not feel the same. The dwarf had personally saved him. When Hath tried to recall how it was still hard to follow.

That orc had stood far taller and carried a weapon with more reach. The dwarf had simply not been wherever the sword went. Hath had never thought a warhammer could be a subtle weapon, but there was clearly more to fighting with one.

"Night's end..." he mused quietly, looking down at the wound. His mug was drained so her pulled himself back to his feet. It did not hurt, but he had to steady himself against the wall for a few seconds.

"Shelter from the mountain winds will be a welcome change."

 

[Lagakh]

Laga understood that Charosh may have been reminiscing about a fight well fought. But she silently mourned that her magics were limited regarding a canvas such as that. There was no utility in broken flesh, just in the blood that moved it. "Aye, I saw it nearly have it's way with you. Right..." She smiled and pointed to the ground. "On your back."

Not that she had done any better. Charosh at least had the good graces to stay in the arena while the Shadowreaver was prancing about with the wolves at the lights edge.

Kneeling over, she grabbed her club and nodded to the Mountain Orc. "I could stand for a bit of shelter as well...and another warm meal. And..." She downed the rest of her mug. "A bit more ale."

The alcohol was well received. But the energy was far more important. She was starting to feel a good bit light headed, using her club to help her walk back towards the Inn.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath raised a finger to poke the wound. He turned Lagakh right before his finger touched it. Deciding that the shaman might just find the strength to lift that club and strike him around the back of the head if he interrupted his magic Hath changed his mind. He left it alone.

As was tradition for his kind he took a moment to search the fallen orc for any good equipment. He couldn't wear heavy armour. The largest and most powerful orcs in his tribe could spend their hours lounging whilst the others hunted. Their job wad to fight other orcs. Meanwhile Hath couldn't afford to carry the weight of a serious amount of armour on his long sorties across the plains. There was a good knife though, with a nice leather sheath. Hath took that.


"Thought the two of yer would be back," said the innkeeper. The warhammer was back up on the wall. Hath wondered if his shock at hearing about Hill giants being killed by a pair of orcs had just been to humour them.

"Yer know how many orcs I've killed in my time? Never fought with any."

He was already pouring two mugs from a freshly tapped cask.