Private Tales Voices

[Hath Charosh]

Kill them.

It was a year since the demonic presence had been expelled from his body. The scar across his shoulder was never going to heal. Dark marks of corruption still stretched away from the scar and across his shoulder. The demon was long gone, but now two voices made themselves known.

They're not a danger to me

Everything is.

Hath watched the small party of gnolls. They were keeping their distance from the small rise. His defensible small rise. They knew not to bother him.

It had been at least three cycles of the largest moon since he had needed to use his own voice. Instinct and skill had kept him alive. Hath didn't know if those two sides of him played out in his head with words because he wanted to keep balance or simply because he was afraid that he would eventually forget language entirely. There were times he was afraid that the voice in his instinct was becoming as dark as the demon had been.

He came to a compromise. He nocked an arrow and loosed it. It thudded into a tree a few paces from the gnolls and shattered loudly. Whooping and barking, they scattered. A reminder not to come too close.

With that done, Hath picked a careful path down from his hiding spot. There was safety in the dark of night, but also far more dangerous creatures. He was setting out North which would bring him close to a well travelled track between settlements. Monsters normally kept clear of those paths. Rangers frequently travelled them in groups and tracked down anything too dangerous that made a home close to the road.

 

[Oriole]

The saddle thunked onto the cold, hardened earth beside the path only a moment before its saddlebags and a satchel followed. Oriole stood over them and propped her hand on her hip to puff for a little while. She yanked down her scarf and clouds of breath billowed around her shoulders in the still forest. A reprieve she had earned after a hike she hadn't planned for.

So maybe she had been a little overconfident in her camp placement the night before. Maybe she wasn't as well spoken in the gnoll language as she thought she was, and maybe she did deserve a trek through the forest after they had killed her horse for meat.

Nevertheless, she had made it to the trail just fine, and look! It was right where it was supposed to be. And just in time. The sun went down earlier and earlier these days, and the light was already thinning beyond the hills. Not that she was in a hurry to beat the twilight or the hard cold of night. Minor inconveniences to a master mage such as herself.

In less than an hour the sun was nearly gone and her camp was set. A cozy little fire for one half-elf bundled deep in coats, scarves, hoods, and blankets -- all spelled with little runes and sigils to make or hold warmth. She leaned against her saddle for comfort and wrote in a journal by the firelight, the scratch of her quill marching steadily as she committed her day into ink and plotted tomorrow's travel. Her map was set out beside her, weighed down by her compass to keep it from blowing away, and a small kettle of water was warming over the flames.

A fine conclusion to a rather difficult day. Surely she'd had enough bad luck for one day.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Goblins used a language that had some commonality with orc. Hath did not much care for what they had to say in any case. He kept low to the ground amongst the shrubs and went unseen.

Unless they attack the town.

The town is not a concern.

Except if they go looking for goblins

The second voice found no response to that. Right now he had no quarrel with the townsfolk. Humans would expand their lands until they had ruined the world with overfarming and castle building. It was in their nature.

Hath was only staying nearby through the winter and so whilst they did not bother one another there was no issue. However, most men used the words goblin and orc interchangeably. If the goblins raided the town and if any of them had seen him and knew roughly which direction he roamed then there would be trouble.

Hath followed at a distance, but felt a sense of relief when he saw where they were headed. A single distant light. It was bright to his exceptional night vision. A single campfire in the woods.

 

[Oriole]

She’d finished her journal entry, partaken in a light dinner of dry rations and tea, and had curled up against her saddle and bags for the evening. Oriole slept without a care in the world, slumbering peacefully in the open forest. She prepared for everything and feared little.

The gentle jingle of a bell woke her. Her eyes opened but she didn’t move, didn’t give the impression that she was awake at all as she listened. The spell around her camp had been crossed and she could hear shuffling nearby. Unfortunately the spell didn’t tell her what it was, and it was just as likely to be a curious animal as an unwanted guest.

Erring on the side of caution, she quietly pulled off her mittens under the blanket. If it was trouble, this was her last pair and she didn’t want to burn them up like their predecessors.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Goblins were noisy creatures, even when trying to move quietly. They were more like humans in this regard. They hunted and survived by staying in large groups.

Hath was able to keep his distance whilst following a parallel track. It allowed him the freedom to keep pace without drawing their attention.

There were a few options ahead of him. If the goblins ambushed a camp and then fled then Hath could kill those who remained from a distance. A bow wasn't a useful weapon in the dark woods, but he could pick a spot and kill them from the shadows when they were still and picked out by the firelight.

The other option followed the goblins killing those within the camp. He could wait until the looting was finished and then get rid of the evidence that it had been goblins.

You could help those in the camp.

He had lived alone for month. Hath's only interaction with other sentient creatures had been loosing a few arrows at gnolls to make a point.

The sound of a bell rang out, crisp and clean. It surprised him and he flattened his bulk to the forest floor. The sound of goblins charging in followed. They were small creatures, but made a ruckus to try and confuse their quarry.

The bell had been strange.

 

[Oriole]

The sounds grew louder, clearer. About the time she recognized the mutterings of goblins to identify her intruders, they charged noisily. With a reluctant groan, Oriole threw off her covers and sprang to her feet. In the low firelight, she could see the dark silhouettes of several goblins rushing toward her -- now a standing target instead of a bundle of blankets on the ground.

Unarmed but not helpless, the mage thrust her hands forward. The dim light flickered and flared and the light reflected off of her palms. There was a brilliant streak as she swept her hands and a shield appeared in front of her hands. It shimmered like a sheet of glass and gave off a subtle, crisp glow. There was not much light to work with. The goblins had come at a terrible time for her to try using her magic.

Oriole remained calm as the first goblin reached the shield. Tutting her fingers in swift, intricate shapes, she created an illusion of herself where she stood beside the fire. When she stepped out of the false Oriole, leaving it in place with its hands out defensively, a thin illusion also veiled her from plain sight. Sort of.

Free to move for a little while, she hastily retreated back from the shield, towards the edge of her camp. Good thing she didn’t have a horse to worry about, she reassured herself.

A lot of good the illusions were doing her. Another bell chimed behind her and a duo of goblins came sprinting from the shadows toward the illusion by the fire. One zipped past her without noticing her, but the second crashed into her leg. The small creature gave a gnarly screech before one of the goblins launched itself at the woman who was barely visible.

“Get away from me!” Oriole barked out in some of the worst goblin language she could manage. It didn’t seem to heed her warning before she shook it off of her and kicked it, sending the creature rolling away but alerting the other on this side of the glass to her presence. It turned back around and came running toward her, welding some kind of small bladed weapon.

“I said go!” she warned it again. The mage pointed her hands and there was a blinding flash of light in front of the goblin’s face. It illuminated the darkness, illuminated all the goblins in range. A lot more than she’d first thought. Not good at all.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath kept his figure low to the ground. As long as he stayed amongst the ferns he could observe and then decide what to do.

Magic.

He barely trusted the gentle, predictive magic of his own people. He despised the destructive forces the elves unleashed with precision and the humans unleashed with willful ignorance.

Hath slowly stood and started to turn. He didn't want to be involved in this. Perhaps the mage would burn all the goblins, perhaps they would overwhelm her with numbers. There were many options in between where they lost their nerve.

A brilliant flash of light lit him up where he stood and all the world around him. Hath screwed his eyes shut in reaction. It was too late. He blinked the bright spots away slowly.

A group of goblins stood in the woods starring at him. The animal snarled a warning before the part of him that still remembered words could think of something to say.

He had a spear thrust towards his chest.

 

[Oriole]

The goblin in front of her screeched loudly in complaint as it furiously rubbed its eyes and staggered backwards. The quiet evening erupted in a cacophony of angry goblin noises and growls. One of the goblins was shoulders deep in her pack, legs kicking and oblivious to the light. The others began to disperse (at least for now) and those outside her circle of firelight were crunching forward on the layers of dead leaves and grass.

Hurrying to her pack, Oriole spat a string of expletives as she fearlessly grabbed the back half of a goblin. She shook it mercilessly, as much to disorient it as to get it to drop whatever of hers it held. It managed to twist around and bite her hand and she cussed louder, clearer. She unceremoniously dropped the little bastard and it went scurrying for safety.

And with that, she was done playing this game.

Her illusion sputtered and faded into the darkness as Oriole funneled the concentration and energy to maintain it into her hands. Holding them out in unison, her palms glowed for a moment before a weapon of light appeared in her grasp -- a sword of gold that lit up the night like the first rays of dawn.

"Last chance," she shouted in one final warning. Not that she expected it to matter. She squeezed the glowing hilt tightly and drew a deep breath in preparation. If it came down to it, she thought she could do it. If she had to use it, she would.

But only if she had to. Even if they were just stupid little goblins.

 

[Hath Charosh]

It was a difficult decision for the goblins. One one hand the lone elf was a mage who was now wielding a magical sword. On the other hand anyone who could conjure a magic sword had to have stuff worth stealing.

They had a pack bravery. All of them assumed that one of the others was bound to get stabbed first. After all, they were all still alive and that meant they had to be more lucky than those who had died in the last few raids.

A few turned their heads towards the sound of another skirmish in the shadows. Did the elf have some help? No time to go and find out; they had to act now.

Two goblins darted towards her and then backed away. Another threw a spear at her. The others all dove in a pile towards her gear.


Hath roared and snarled as they leapt for him. The first spear had nicked his shoulder. It didn't do much damage but the shock of pain stirred the instinctive side of him to action and pushed his thoughtful side deep down.

He grabbed the haft of the sword and yanked it. He lifted his other arm, elbow striking the goblin square in the head and dropping it.

Hath lifted his axe. The goblins lifted their rusty swords and set about him.

 

[Oriole]

They didn't take her warning. Oriole sighed. She had done her best to avoid this, but they really gave her no choice. A small raid of goblins like this shouldn’t warrant lethal force, but they were clearly committed to whatever end.

From the darkness just beyond the light of her sword came another voice, the sounds of… conflict? Oriole squinted toward the dark but her sword made everything beyond its illumination black as pitch. Was there someone else nearby?

She didn’t get the chance to find out. Two goblins moved toward her and she held her sword at the ready, but they feinted at the last moment. Oriole released the sword with one hand and thrust it forward, the light in her bloody fingers flickering to become a glowing shield just strong enough to deflect the spear. It buried itself in the ground just beside her.

The rest dove for her bags in a mad scramble. Her bags! Her saddle!

“Hey!” Oriole had to get past these two to get back to her things. If she had to set an example, so be it.

When she moved forward, she blurred. She was moving both toward the goblins and moving towards the gear in flickering images like firelight. Which one was real and which one was a mirage was unclear until she swung her sword in an arc of light, a streak of burning white. The blade caught one of the goblins in the hip, carving upward into its shoulder. Keeping its momentum, she brought it back down toward the second.

 

[Hath Charosh]

There was little between what he saw and heard and the movements of his hands around the axe. Hath wasn't strategising for the fight and there was no planning. It was pure survival instinct.

He moved before his conscious mind even recognised the glint of steel coming from his right. Hath planted his weight centrally after leaning out of the sword's reach. A twist of the hips and his axe, Biter, came back around with venom. The goblin didn't even yelp as the axe drove in under his ribs.

Hath snapped it back, hearing the scrape of none. He swung frantically, clumsily, to make some space on his left. With more thought he might have used the terrain to find some space or put an obstacle at his back.

Instead he was just living on the edge of survival, as he had for months now. He had to keep turning, the goblin closest to his back always being the bravest. He felt the kiss of another blade across the back of his calf and began to realise they were going to eventually wear him down.

In defiance he roared and advanced, cutting down another goblin and shoving another to the ground.

 

[Oriole]

Light separated limb from body and the second goblin squealed in pain. Oriole immediately felt the rush of guilt. She raised her sword again to strike it a second time but hesitated. Unlike its dying friend, it was scrambling away from her. It was missing the better part of an arm, but it would live.

Alerted by the sounds of their allies, some of the goblins were looking up from her things, which were already being emptied out on the ground. The contents of her bags were not those typically kept by wandering mages. It was just gear and mundane books; it was the meager traveling supplies of a normal woman.

Some of them scattered with their pilfered clothes and rations. Still more continued to root around in her things. Someone was fighting in the woods beyond them, still beyond her ability to see them and therefore still outside of her immediate concern.

With a set scowl of anger, Oriole stepped over the dead goblin and strode toward her bags and the thieves.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath was surprised that they did not flee. He hasn't planned to try and scare them away, he did not plan so far ahead. It still surprised him.

They fanned out and darted in and out. They were careful enough to avoid his swinging axe. Hath roared as they opened up several cuts with their rusted swords. Even thought two of them were dead they laughed as they surrounded him.

Hath backed away towards two trees and instinctively called on the darkness that lingered close to his soul. A voice deep down protested, but instinct did not care. There was only survival.

He stepped forwards with newfound agility and swung his axe from above his right shoulder towards his left hip. The strength of the blow almost carved a goblin in half.

He caught a glimpse of movement and turned quickly. He expected to block a sword. Instead the javelin caught him square in the chest.

Even the survivor in control could not push the pain aside. Hath stumbled back, one hand slipping from his axe. He had enough strength to swing it with the other hand, but the goblins had lost interest. The axe looked like it was worth coin, but the rest of their cohort were rapidly fleeing the camp.

As the dark strength he had talked started to fade, Hath collapsed to the ground.

 

[Oriole]

The goblins scattered. Some went carrying armfuls of her supplies and others scrambled away with nothing. All that mattered to Oriole was that they were gone. She let go of her sword and it dissolved, its light fading from the clearing as abruptly as it had appeared.

The sounds of a fight elsewhere were also quieting down rather suddenly. Never a good thing. She blinked against the dark and caught the glint of the firelight reflecting off of a length of dull metal. Enough for her to gauge where she was going.

Someone smarter or less reckless than herself might have stayed put, ignoring whatever trouble was going on that didn’t involve her. Fortunately, Oriole was not like most everyone else. She ran into the dark to the sound of goblins chattering. Casting a ball of light above her palm, she had a ranged spell prepared but arrived just in time to see the goblins retreating with the others.

Not far away, a man lay on the ground. Oriole’s heart stumbled and she rushed forward. It didn’t matter who he was or why he was here. What was important was that he very clearly needed help.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly. A stupid question, since anyone with eyes could see that he was not. She waved her hand and the globe of light hovered over her, freeing her hands. Still, she didn’t immediately touch him. Not because he was an orc -- although shit, she’d never met an orc before -- but because he’d just been under attack and she was a stranger. She pushed back her hood and her bright curls sprang free, sticking to her sweaty cheeks and brow.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Orcs were not fragile creatures like humans. Most orc warriors has scars from injuries that would have felled any man. They could typically survive a lost limb and succumbed to infection far less.

Hath did not know if he would survive, but his time would come when it came. The world continued long after every generation were back in the soil, remaining only in story.

Hath narrowed his eyes at the light. He patted the soil beside him, grasping for an axe that was well out of reach.

The elf. It was talking.

Elves had too much time in the world. They perfected their swordsmanship and their magic. They were dangerous creatures.

Hath growled in warning, revealing his tusks.

 

[Oriole]

He reached for something and growled at her. Growled at her. Oriole frowned sharply. Of course she didn’t really blame him. The man was injured with several cuts and had a spear quite literally sticking out of his chest. There were better times to make an introduction to a member of a more elusive races -- and one who might have some strong feelings about her pointed ears.

“Yes, yes. Very frightening. Nice to make your acquaintance as well,” Oriole responded dryly. “But if we can be finished with the niceties, let me help you. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have already done that.”

One of her tattooed hands felt along the back of his shoulder, searching for the other end of the spear. Which she didn’t feel. Which meant it had to go out the way it came in. Ugly business, but he’d survive. The other hand gently probed the skin around the spear. It was bleeding, but not as badly as it would be when she pulled it out. Her fingers and the palm of her hand were warm, her touch assertive.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Enemy. Danger.

Hath wasn't aware of quite how little his growl had done to dissuade the elf. She was speaking the common trade tongue. He had never been fully fluent, even before going so long without conversation.

Hath was too exhausted for his imagination to stretch far. It struggled to reach a good reason for her to persist. He would rather go back to the soil than become part of some twisted magical experiment.

He had heard the world help. Help from an elven warrior in this situation normally meant a swift death.

He growled as her fingers worked around the spear. It wasn't a warning this time. It was simple pain. The instinctive survivor kept him awake, but all he had time to process was how much that hurt.

 

[Oriole]

She had healed enough people and heard enough pain to know the difference between anger, fear, and hurt. Her tone softened, even if her hands couldn't.

"I know. I'm sorry." She was sorry that there wasn't a painless way to do this and do it right. She was sorry that she had never learned a scrap of the orcish language in all those years at the college. She was sorry that things like this happened in the first place.

"The spear has to come out. You are lucky it missed any vital organs." She looked down again at the spear's placement. How big were orc lungs again? Maybe she'd lied.

Oriole shrugged out of her coats, neverminding the blood on her hands leaving dark imprints. She laid it aside and pushed up her sleeves to expose tattooed and scarred forearms and, finding and unfastening his armor, she began preparing a spell with a concentrated frown. She guided him to lie on his back and situated herself beside him. This was, at least, grimly familiar work.

Her warm fingers touched his shoulder, his sternum, his ribs. Soothing magic imbued itself, helping to alleviate some of his pain, but what she had to do was going to hurt like a bastard. No amount of magic could subdue it and she wasn't going to sink energy into a lost cause.

"This is going to hurt," she warned him, "and you are probably going to panic. So if you can understand me, try not to panic."

Working quickly under the assumption that he didn't understand her and with nothing left but the worst of it, Oriole took a deep breath, repositioned to put one knee on his arm and the other on his hip to keep him relatively pinned, and grabbed the spear. She yanked the it free in the same motion, then immediately threw it aside and shifted her weight off of his body.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath panicked.

As Oriole shifted her weight from him she could feel a gentle kiss of air as his closed fist swung past her face.

He roared as he rolled to one side, kicking and writing as he slammed his own open palm to the wound.

Dazed and confused, his mind linked the moment to the two arrows that had been pulled from bone. On those occasions at least six orcs had been pinning him down as the shaman worked the arrowheads free.

A series of orc curses spilled from his lips between the growling and snarling. It was as many words as he had spoken in weeks.

 

[Oriole]

Of course he panicked. Oriole had shifted back just out of reach of a swing that would have very likely knocked her out cold. That was fair. She deserved that attempt. The string of orcish without a single syllable of the trade tongue was all the evidence she needed that he hadn't understood.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she said automatically. Like a bit of an idiot, admittedly. Breathing a choice curse under her breath, she grabbed his shoulder and tried to get him to lie back again. "Stop thrashing! You're not helping it! Hold… still and… roll… over!"

Oriole fought to pull his shoulder toward her. She was strong by normal human terms, but this man was not human and built like a godforsaken tree. She groaned as she finally managed his shoulder back far enough for her hand to dart in. Her fingers pressed tightly against the base of his palm and she leaned in close, consequence be damned. His fucking hand wasn't budging, clamped in place against the wound. Damn it all.

Which meant resorting to something a little more unorthodox. A noble cause with questionable means; she wasn't going to be able to help him like this. Still, the idea of casting spells on the minds of the unwitting and unwilling was repugnant.

"I'm sorry." And she really was.

Oriole’s other hand reached toward his face. Her palm was soft and warm as it brushed his hair back from his brow. There was no malice in the touch, but soothing comfort, gentle and persuasive. The spell tingled in her fingers, in her tongue as she murmured an incantation like a reassurance. It was only to calm him down -- nothing that could truly alter his perception of reality or charm him, only assuaging his panic in the universal language of magic.

"It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to help." Her last shot before last resort methods. Blood, dark and hot, was still running steadily from under his palm and she couldn't waste much more time if she really was going to be any help to him.

 

[Hath Charosh]

At least by now he had recognised that she wasn't trying to kill him. Hath was exhausted from drawing on demonic strength which left him more vulnerable to the waves of pain. That left instinct in charge of the confusing mess that was his world.

His adrenaline sharpened focus. She was trying to check him over. Possibly to treat him. She tugged at the hand he had clamped down over his wound. There was no fucking chance it was moving despite her insistence.

As she spoke in elvish the hairs across the back of his neck stood on end.

"No...do not..."

Clearly, he could speak the common trade tongue. After thrashing around his strength was limited to a verbal protest and keeping pressure to the wound.

Hath could almost feel an undercurrent of magic. And then he couldn't. Relief flowed though him when it didn't seem to have any effect. Hath felt his breathing slow as the panic subsidised.

"What...what to do..."

His focus drifted from side to side, but finally settled straight up. Against the blanket of stars he could see the dark silhouettes of trees swinging back and forth gently as if they leaned into the light to observe what was going on on the ground.

 

[Oriole]

She’d been prepared for him to protest -- to wriggle more or to try hitting her again. What she hadn’t prepared for was for him to speak. And in the trade tongue, no less. He could understand! Oriole felt even more sorry, knowing he had expected the worst. His small protest wrenched that guilty feeling a little tighter.

The spell appeared to be working, however, or perhaps he had finally understood what she’d been saying. Either way, he was calming down. He was listening. Sort of.

“I can help. Can I see?" Oriole spoke slowly. She diverted the hand on his brow to gently tug at his hand. He was strong enough that she didn't have a chance of budging it without his cooperation or until he passed out. The latter he might do from the pain or the blood loss (or both) rather soon.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath's resilience had its limits. He didn't hear her question. His attention was entirely limited to the sight of the shadow-trees leaning over to peer down at him.

If she had been trying to finish the job the animal part of him that was running the show would have surfaced. Tooth and claw it would have fought to the end.

His hand slipped from the wound, from exhaustion rather than compliance. Hath let out one final snarl before he passed out.

 

[Oriole]

Whether or not it was unfortunate for him, feeling the man go slack as his strength failed him and he finally fell unconscious was fortunate for Oriole. Still, it was going to be a long night.

While healing was messy, it was also the easy part. She was not as studied on orcish biology as she would have liked, but she patched him up as well as she could with her limitations on time, resources, and environment. The stranger wasn't going to die. He also wasn't going to feel good when he woke up. Oriole used as little magic as she could, both in a practical sense and a respectful one. She couldn't shake the memory of his protest out of her thoughts.

Once that was done, however, came the task of moving him. She was tall and strong for her kind and was rarely beyond her abilities. This one, however, was built like a damn log and was just as dense. The process of hauling him back to her camp was neither graceful nor dignified.

Eventually she dropped him on a blanket near the fire. Standing back and propping her hands on her hips, she caught her breath and looked around. It was at that point she saw the goblins' remains and she sighed deeply. More to do.

By the time she was finished, the dawn was fading to gold and blue after its early pink array. Her camp had been cleared of any unpleasantness and her patient was tucked in on her bedroll, patched up and slumbering. Her packs and gear had been put back together and she had taken inventory of what she had lost. Nothing she couldn't replace.

Leaning back against her saddle, Oriole chewed on one of the few bits of rations that had been left behind before settling down to nap lightly. There was nothing to do now but to wait for her patient to wake up.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath blinked his eyes open. The trees were there, gently swaying in the breeze. They were no longer nebulous shadows, filled only by his imagination. They were real, green trees against the dull grey of a misty dawn. He had dreamed of them. He had dreamed of them falling down to try and swallow him whole, had dreamed of running through a forest determined to end him.

The trees hadn't eaten him. They were just up there being trees. He moved. It hurt. He moved more because a sudden fear ran through him that he had been bound. He hadn't been.

It took a few seconds of breathing through pain to remember why he was afraid of that. The flash of light that revealed him to the panicked goblins and then the she-elf who held him down. He was still in her camp.

Hath looked for a weapon.