Private Tales What Does Not Kill Us

[Hath Charosh]

Hath tilted his head to one side at her laugh. His eyes glanced down at the empty skewer. He offered a single note of a chucking and a shrug of his broad shoulders.

"I was hungry," he admitted. He turned into the natural flow of the crowd so that Pern could walk beside him. He left the second skewer alone so that he could talk.

"Might be best to rest a few days. Maybe even have fun. Nowhere to say but a field, the faun said, but still safer."

It did not feel like they had stopped. The gryphon had finished their journey, but he had barely recovered before they had set out to return.

" Winds of fate, to meet someone this far from home," he added.

It went against Hath's nature, but he maneuvered around a small group of excitable kobolds instead of scattering them before him.

After all, no minotaur had trodden on him yet.

 

[Pern]

Pern's laughter dwindled into amused tittering, "I know, I am shorry. You jusht looked sho happy to have food."

And happy wasn't an expression she saw on him often.

She took her first bite from one of the skewers, savoring the sweetness of flavor over the surprising richness of rodent meat (somewhere between chicken and ... pork?) - must have been the honey glazed. Pern followed behind Hath as he navigated the crowds of the market, which had grown heavier as the day wore on. Peak shopping hours, must be.

"I don't mind shtaying for a bit," Pern admitted, her eyes drifting from shop to shop, face to face, bright with curiosity and pleasant excitement, "I've wanted to vishit this playsh ever shince my father told me about it. Maybe I will find him a gift..."

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Mmph, no sorry," Hath said.

He would have said more, but without pause the second skewer was shoved into his open mouth. A full half was gone, the meat firm from being overcooked, and the glaze sticky and sweet. It was not the easiest mouthful to get down.

Hath glanced over his shoulder at her. She seemed genuinely excited to be here. It made him feel a comfortable kind of warmth low in his gut.

The place reminded him in some ways of Bhairthark. However, this town was lively and colourful and seemed to celebrate the mix of cultures.

"I owe him as well as you" Hath reflected. "But I do not know how to settle that."

She was also the one with coin, and a gift from Hath would not cover what he owed. "What would you get him?" he asked.

 

[Pern]

"Owe me?" Pern raised her brows, "nonshenshe. You do not owe anything. You have kept me shafe, helped me to our deshtinashun, and now back home."

The idea of owing anyone was preposterous. They were friends, weren't they? Friends helped one another out.

But as for the gift...

"Mm," she pondered over another bite, "I am not shure. Hish tashtesh are quite eclectic and I do not know what all ish here. Perhapsh a book, if I can find any."

 

[Hath Charosh]

"On a trip you would not have been on, if you did not need to help me," Hath added.

He did, however, acknowledge the point with a tilt of his head. He had her gratitude.

"I am glad you came and we will journey more together."

A book? He thought to himself. He could help find someone who sold books, but he was not going to be helping to find anything specific. He supposed he could always ask.

"What does eclectic mean?" he asked.

In most crowds in towns he stood above the line of heads and was afforded a good view. Here they had to weave through the crowd, avoiding stepping on people and being stepped on in turn.

 

[Pern]

Something about the promise of continuing their travels warmed her heart. She was equally as glad to be reminded of that as he was that she made the journey with him to start. Good feelings were trickling back in again after what felt like so long. Now if they could just maintain it for the remainder of the trek home...

"Hm?" she asked, having lost herself in thought as they wandered through the crowds, "it meansh... varied?" No, that might not be clear enough. Simpler terms.

"Ahm ... that he doesh not collect just shertain things, but things of many purposhesh and playshesh. He likesh to learn of all peoplesh and culturesh and bring home with him pieshesh from everywhere."

So many soft consonants. Pern licked at her lips.

"But... he will alwaysh love a new book."

 

[Hath Charosh]

“Good!” Went Hath.

If that was what he would like, it seemed that this place was a trade hub for a variety of good. It was tailored to no particular species or culture either.

“I have been thinking…”

It often took some time from starting to think about a subject to Hath offering his thoughts on a matter. He continued quickly, lest she start to panic that he had some other revelations to ruin her day.

“…it has been a strange day. Orcs working us out, an old friend of yours and a centaur that wants you to join him for a dance. It is nice, for a change, that people want our company and not to kill us.”

“Books!” He declared, swinging out an arm and nearly catching a kobold across the face. An apology was given quickly. There was just a table of carefully stacked books with a shrewd halfling behind it, but they were definitely books.

 

[Pern]

Luckily for Hath, she was not worried about such things. Pern preferred to have a more rosy outlook on life, and her ears perked as he expressed those thoughts that so often seemed to go unspoken.

She nodded, smiling, and looked about in full agreement with his sentiment - then nearly jumped out of her skin as he suddenly shouted about books.

"Oh!" Pern staggered sideways, bumping into a passing dwarf and quickly apologizing before turning her eyes to where he'd pointed. She'd barely had a chance to dig into her second skewer and was already getting distracted. Eager to see the wares on offer, Pern slipped through the crowds and over to the table.

"Ah-ah!" said the halfling, waving a finger at her, "no food near the merchandise!"

"Oh - yesh, shorry. Of courshe!" she nodded, then looked over to Hath, "Why don't you pick one out?"

Perhaps he would pick something she never would, and that would be even more interesting for her father!

 

[Hath Charosh]

Two orcs on the move through the wilderness looked like food to half of the predators of Arethil. He have faced down oversized lions, wild dogs and goblins. Pern had even seen him stand his ground against elven swordsmasters - one of his great fears.

She had never seen quite a look of fear on his face.

"Choose?"

The panic was quickly replaced by a sense of responsibility. She had set a task for him.

"I need to buy a book," Hath said firmly, stepping up to the table.

"I heard."

"I do not read."

"That will make this interesting. I am going to guess that it is not for you?"

"It is not. For a man who works at a college. What is this one?" Hath said, pointing to a book, chosen for its leather cover with patterned embossing.

The halfling could barely contain his amusement.

"I do not have many books, but this will take some time. That one is a set of old tales for children. Why don't I pick out a few that may be of interest and describe them?"

"Yes," Hath said firmly. That seemed like a good idea.

 

[Pern]

A few steps away, Pern watched and quietly continued her meal. There was a certain sense of amusement and endearment for Hath as he took up this little mission of selecting a book for her father. Regardless of what choices were available, she was far more interested to see what he would choose.

One book featured information on growing venomous plants from the Ixchell Wilds.

Another spoke of mythical beings of Arethil. Pern wondered if the land turtles Gillabree had spoken of were in that one.

A book with what appeared to be pewter-capped corners contained old dwarven poems.

There was a worn journal by a man named Ser Heron Blare that codified his adventures through the Amol Kalit. This was not the first time Pern had heard this name and her ears perked at hearing something of such familiarity. She wondered if the halfling knew that the author was a human. Probably best not to mention anything, lest it got tossed into a fire.

"Anything yet?" asked the halfling, sounding somewhat impatient as they eyed another customer browsing their wares.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath approached the task with his usual quiet determination. At least, he was usually quiet and determined and not blurting out his feelings as he was having his hair braided.

What, he thought to himself, would an older human man want to learn about? A scholar must have wanted to learn about everything. Books would be like weapons to someone like that: a joy to collect and show off.

"Anything yet?"

"No."

Hath took half a step to his left to allow someone else to look. From their blue skin, pointed ears and bright strip of hair, he thought they were some kind of half-breed elf he didn't recognise.

He had narrowed it down to two books: those covering plants of the Ixchell Wilds and Ser Blare. He was being especially careful with the two books under the watchful eye of the halfling.

The intricate diagrams of plants swayed him. He glanced over one broad shoulder at Pern and pointed at it.

"This one. Not many survive deep into those wilds. Less live long enough to sit and draw so well."

Surely that had to make it a rare book back at Elbion.

 

[Pern]

Pern could not help but wonder just what was going through his mind as he considered the books. Which ones struck the strongest chord? Why? Hath was usually rather quiet and introspective. He did not speak often of his internal thoughts or opinions. He lived through means of survival and seldom through his own personal desires. He did not read, had no aptitude for books or literature, so how was it he approached such an order?

When he finally made his choice, Pern's ears pricked and brows raised. That he'd made the choice based on the survival rates of the wilds was only slightly amusing - more that he made such a connection at all was ... rather impressive. She'd certainly have never thought of it that way. The quality of the drawings and the detail described within is what would have called to her, not the simple fact that whomever had made the manual must have certainly been either very skilled or very lucky with their survival. Her father would undoubtedly love it.

She nodded to him with a soft smile and only a small bit of color in her cheeks.

"Perfect," Pern said, "do you take coin?"

"Indeed I do," said the halfling as they handed over the book to Hath, "If this scholar friend of yours has an eye for the written word, I travel to Alliria in the winter."

"Thank you, I will remember that." She handed over the payment after some juggling of bag and food, pausing as she noticed something while rooting around inside, and then looked back to Hath with a bright expression, "I forgot Gillabree gave ush hawk feathersh for your arrowsh! We won't need to trade for fletching after all."

 

[Hath Charosh]

"So she did," Hath remarked.

"It is a shame we did not forget a bundle of arrows was in there. Then we would not need to go back to the smug faun."

"Oh y've both met Hallish?" the halfling asked rhetorically.

Hath grunted. No one had been unpleasant, so there was no real need to complain.

Hath had the book in hand. Whilst his people passed down stories and knowledge verbally and he found the notion of reading quite a lonely endeavour, there was something pleasant about the about the soft leather containing so much information.

Hath passed it over to Pern so it could go into the magical bag. He looked pleased that he hadn't chosen poorly.

"You want to explore more or go see if the Kobolds have started their festival?" Hath asked. They needed to do some more trading, but at least there would be no need to pay for an inn.

 

[Pern]

"Mm, theshe arrowsh she gave ush are quite short though..." and not at all a match for the shafts he'd selected at the shop.

Book tucked securely in beside the journal that held the Dawnbringer's feather, Pern buckled the pocket shut and pulled her bag back over her shoulder. She nibbled at her remaining rat skewer and immediately found that the spicy one was simply not her thing - so it went to Hath who seemed to have no issue in devouring his own earlier.

"Letsh look around while we have daylight," she replied, "it'll be harder to shee whatsh what in the dark."

Even if orcs had quite good night vision, she suspected that Wikkerton would be alight with braziers, bonfires, and torches which often skewed her own vision at night. Perhaps it wasn't such a problem for Hath.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Shorter can work," Hath said. "Larger feathers make an arrow straight fast. But they slow it down."

Hath had looked more pleased at getting an unexpected skewer than at choosing a good book for her father. That feeling would be gone quickly, the spicy meat forgotten about before they reached the next stall. He would remember the book for far longer.

There was a mix of more permant shops and temporary stalls and everything inbetween. There was no fixed style of architecture and it seemed every culture that came brought they own way of making shelters.

There was a loose pagoda with a canvas drawn tightly over the top which looked precarious when it housed the glassware of a slightly deranged looking alchemist. A wattle and daub building housed a pair of elderly orc shamans who were predicting the future and selling charms.

"We need more trade," Hath reasoned. "Either something we can buy with gold or services to trade ourselves. I could go hunt tomorrow."

He chuckled once.

"That centaur would let you work his forge a day or two if you told him he pranced nice."

 

[Pern]

"That'sh...not a bad idea..." Pern admitted, though she was well aware that Smiths did not often like to share their forges. Perhaps the fact that she was not a resident Smith, nor was she trying to make her own coin or sell her own wares would work in her favor. That challenge was easily surmounted, she thought. Much more easily than the challenge of working with the vanity of the centaur stallion.

Besides, she was not good at hunting and more often than not got in Hath's way or scared away his target. She'd rather have a friendly face to deal with during his time away than potentially having to talk to those orcs again.

"Let'sh shee what elshe we can find."

They spent the remainder of the day browsing the various stalls and shoppes and wares of the market where Hath learned first hand what the word eclectic truly met. There was no rhyme nor reason to the layout of the market. Pern believed it was merely first-come-first serve where spaces to set up stalls and shop fronts were concerned. It might've taken them several days to find and browse all the shops with how elaborately they were span through the few permanent structures that made up Wikkerton.

On more than one occasion they found themselves under the close watch of orcs. Small groups - and not the same ones as before. Pern didn't know what to look for, but Hath would have seen the signs of at least three different tribe sigils. No one approached them, luckily, and soon Pern forgot all about them as the sun began to set and the kobolds began their ceremony.

A great bonfire roared, lighting the open space of a square within the market. Vendor stalls changed shifts or closed down for the festivities but it seemed like all of Wikkerton, regardless of their race or creed, was coming for the party. They were caught in the growing crowds, no longer the tallest among them like they were in Elbion, and Pern nearly had to stand on tip-toe to see over the people before them.

There were hissing and words she couldn't understand. There was some kind of flag ceremony, a blood ritual, and a sacrificial boar. Just as the moon fully rose over the horizon, a gong sound echoed from the bonfire and there was a great uproar of cheering.

The party truly began now.

Bells jingled and music kicked up, before Pern could blink she felt someone grab her hand and yank her into a snake-line as it danced through the square and the people surrounding it. Pern gave a yelp of laughter as she was dragged away by a line of skipping and dancing beastfolk.

 

[Hath Charosh]

It had been a difficult few months. Hath was accustomed to a life of hardship and of moving on with stoic determination.

Such strength wavered after the reality he had faced. Cutting down his own brother, almost losing his body and soul to a demon, seeing Pern wounded and shamed to her core, suddenly bumbling an admission of feelings to nearly drive her away.

The gentle pace of Wikkerton and the celebration around them was a soothing balm.

Pern was whisked away, followed by the sound of his rumbling laughter. He was content as long as he could see her through the crowd. As long as no orcs - and no centaur - came to bother her.

He didn't even recall where the wooden mug had come from, but now it was in his hand and filled with ale. He lifted it high, drained it and let out a cheer of his own to the moon. It was quickly echoed by several creatures nearby who also raised their drinks.

He cranked his head as the line snaked around the fire. He stayed silent until he could see Pern emerge from behind the fire on the other side.

"You enjoy?"

Hath was slapped on the back. He didn't even recognise the species of the hands owner. Long limbed like a troll, but with more human features.

"I have no idea what we are doing. And I enjoy!" Hath declared.

 

[Pern]

The snake line had taken her through and across and in and out of the crowds, past multiple other campfires as the line grew in length, to the point that Pern wasn't sure which way would lead her back to Hath. Normally he was easy to spot, even among the orcs of his old tribe she'd been able to pick him out of a crowd. Here?

There were enough others here taller and broader than him that he simply got lost among the throngs. Huh!

She heard his voice finally after the line rounded a large bonfire again and realized with a spell of dizziness that it had come full circle. Pern loosed herself from the line, letting another take her place, and staggered slightly with a smile. When the world stopped spinning she began to look around for him and thought she spotted him at the other side of the massive bonfire circle.

"You look thirsty," said a voice, and Pern turned to find herself faced by an orc holding out a wooden tankard. It was difficult to tell in the firelight but he appeared to have green-grey skin and wore the affects of a hunter. A sigil painted over his left pectoral signified his clan, though Pern would did not recognize it.

Never one to be rude, she cast a wary gaze about the crowds looking for the only familiar face she wanted to see and did not find it. "Th-thank you," she took the mug and sipped, half expecting to spit it up at the sour taste of ale but found a curiously pleasant drink within. It tasted of honey, though it still had some bite.

"What ish it?" she asked curiously.

"Mead," he said, and much like Hath his expression didn't change much though she thought she detected the barest inflection of being pleased that she'd accepted the drink. "My clan makes it."

"Well it'sh very good," Pern nodded.

"What is your clan?" he asked, looking her over the way Hath looked her over to assess that she was ready for the day's journey, though Pern could not help but feel far more awkward with this stranger doing the looking.

"I, ahm-" shoot, what had Hath told her to say if another orc approached and asked? Whatever it was, it wasn't coming to mind. "I do not have," she blinked as he leaned toward her and sniffed, "...do not have a clan. I come from Elbion."

"A human city," said the orc, his eyes narrowing, "orcs belong in the wilds."

"Well thish orc wash raished in Elbion. It ish my home." Where or where was Hath?

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath looked back to the fire and followed the direction of the train of merriment. He glanced across the silhouettes. His gaze stopped tracking one way and went back. Pern had been coming back in his direction but now he couldn't see her.

He felt a flutter of panic. He didn't think the orc tribes would do anything as rash as try and abduct her here. Their luck had not, however, been strong recently.

Hath started to push through the crowd. The people of Wikkerton clearly embraced Dakka Nuv. Or perhaps they embraced the idea of festivities. Either way he had rowdy clusters of people and a dancing line to get through.

Pern was not far. He caught the sound of her voice and stepped around a centaur to see her with a drink in hand, talking to another orc.

Hath slowed and stopped. She was free to talk to whoever she wanted to, he reminded himself. That thought was fleeting, as he caught sight of her discomfort as she glanced around. Presumably that was for him.

Hath approached them from the side of the conversation.

"Pern," he said simply. His left hand made a simple gesture of greeting to the other orc.

The appearance of another orc that didn't seem to belong to one of the local clans in Hath seemed to confuse him.

 

[Pern]

The orc in question eyed her quizzically, "Raised? By humans?"

It was an odd conversation to be having with an orc from the wilds, Pern thought to herself. Perhaps she'd said to much. Dang it, Hath had mentioned something about this. It was just so hard to remember what was best to leave out of discussion when other orcs still made her so nervous.

"Y....yesh," she replied, uncertainly, "by the mage that found me ash a babe."

"Is that why your accent is so strange?" he asked, another flicker of amusement on his face.

"I ... my what?"

"Pern."

She nearly jumped out of her skin and startled at Hath's arrival but was immediately overcome by relief. Thank goodness, now he could translate for her the intention of this orc that had her quite puzzled. They did not usually approach for .... casual conversation. Orcs, she'd found, were quite direct.

"I have an acshent?" she said, looking back to the stranger.

The stranger, to his credit, straightened his posture at Hath's arrival. Though he was clearly strong, he was not built broadly like Hath was. He would not likely win in a contest of brute strength against his darker cousin. He made a similar gesture in greeting to Hath, though not mirrored it deferred to non-hostility. Different clans all had their own dialects, as she'd learned, even in their body language.

"Yes," he said to her, "a strong one. Is this your mate?"

"Uh!" Pern looked at Hath with a slackened jaw, eyes rounded, but not for the reason one might think, "You never told me I have an acshent!"

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Yes," he said to her, "a strong one. Is this your mate?"

Hath had to wonder if that pointed question was going to give Pern a clue as to his intentions. It probably wasn't, he decided. There was nothing malicious going on. The orc was simply finding out if Pern was available and of interest to him.

It would all fly over her head until the direct question came.

"You never told me I have an acshent!"

"Everyone has an accent," Hath replied with a shrug. "You pronounce a few words as someone who learned human first. They have an accent to me," he added.

There was a moment of sizing up and subtle tension that would likely go over Pern's head too. Hath, who was not her mate but wanted to be. The stranger who wanted Hath to not be her mate so that she might keep his bed roll warm.

 

[Pern]

The orc stranger made a sound that might've been a chuckle. A soft grumble not quite hoarse enough to be a growl, "Not a brother..." he said to himself as he looked slowly between Hath and Pern.

"I....I thought it wash jusht becaushe of my lishp." Said Pern in mild bewilderment. Turns out while humans picked up on and often poked fun at her lisp, orcs really did not discern it one way or another. There were enough variations in the way orcs pronounced things as compared to human languages that her lisp to them was simply part of her ... accent?

Ignatius, try as he may to help her as a child, had not known how to help her speak words around her tusks. He did not try very hard, either, having found her lisp rather endearing.

"You are Pern, then?" the orc shifted subjects, eyeing her once more, "As this one calls you?"

"Y-yesh," she nodded, mentally taking that stumble with some visible difficulty. "I am Pern and thish ish Hath."

"...I am Varga," said the orc in response, eyes narrowing again as he clearly noted the lack of any signifier for what Hath was to her. They were associated, that much he could tell. Friends at the very least, though Hath seemed to be trying not to give the impression of territory.

A truce, then, until he could learn more. He spread his hands in a sign of welcome kinship, "My tribe is nearby for the festival. We have food and mead and story. Join us, Pern and Hath."

Pern looked to Hath in uncertain deference, both hands slowly coming to clasp her tankard of mead. She gave him a shrug that suggested why not? "The mead ish good."

 

[Hath Charosh]

To turn down hospitality would need an explanation. One that Hath didn't want to give. Crossing paths with a friendly tribe and sharing in stories was a part of their culture. A piece that seemed to be shared across all the lands Hath had explored.

"Of course we can go."

It felt uncomfortable. Like something twisting a little lower in his gut. Hath didn't quite understand it. He was not quick to dig into his own feelings. What if she did find another orc who came with less complications for her? He could express his feelings - when he understood them - but Pern had her freedom.

He glanced at Pern and then back at Varga.

"Your tribe is one of those heading north soon?" Hath asked.

 

[Pern]

For some reason, Hath's agreement grew in her a flash of excitement. Varga had, thus far, proven to be the most friendly wyld orc she'd met (aside from Hath). If the rest of his tribe was like him, then perhaps this might turn into an even more enjoyable evening! Pern had liked learning of orcish culture and listening to their stories, once she'd become integrated into Hath's tribe and found a group of she-orcs to bond with.

It made her wonder how different Varga's tribe was. Or even how similar?

"West," said Varga, "to the Kalit and our ancestral home. We make this pilgrimage every five years."

Oh, well then it was lucky they caught him on the right year!

"Wikkerton is a good place for trade before the long journey," Varga nodded, "and a good place to make new friends."

Pern smiled at him, having completely forgotten about the rule of smiling, and to her surprise Varga smiled back.

"Come," he said, making the gesture to follow, "they are not far."

Pern turned her smile up at Hath and then upon seeing his furtive brow did suddenly remember the rule and quickly wiped the expression from her face, "He sheemsh very different from other orcish," she noted with a slight inflection of curiosity to Hath. Was she imagining things, or was he very different?

"He shpeaksh the trade tongue very well."

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Some tribes deal with humans much more," Hath reasoned.

Despite his reservations, he was glad to see some of the weight lifted from Pern's shoulders. She was enjoying Wikkerton and making light conversation. And whatever she had found to drink.

"You can smile," he said. "They seem to understand."

"Just do not..."

Hath lifted his top lip to deliberately bare his upper fangs to demonstrate. Varga started to lead them through the crowd.

Pern hadn't seen an orc tribe in a fully festive mood in safety. If they stayed too late she would see a more rowdy side to the crowd. Light hearted violence, nudity and worse.

"You pass through savanna lands?" Hath asked.