Hello, pleased to meet you. My name is Morin and this is the story of how I came to work for the Stormbird company, and a little of what I did there. I’m recounting this on the advice of my friend Kugo, who says our stories should be told long and loud for if they are worthy they will be remembered. But maybe that’s just his religion talking and we haven’t gotten to meeting Kugo yet anyway.
I’m from Hartpolis, the city of tents, you may have heard of it. We’re famous for our merchants, soldiers, thieves, and the difficulty of telling which is which. It wasn’t a bad place to grow up, if you can learn to be proud of a dubious and low heritage. My mother was a whore who died of the yellow plague and my father could have been anyone. I was raised on the charity Order of the Way monks, such as I was, but mostly I ran wild.
I learned through experience that I wasn’t strong or nimble but somehow I could take a punch or four and maybe a kick or two but still wake up feeling mostly myself the next day. A doorway or gutter isn’t a bad place to sleep if your too poor to rob and too ugly to rape. I watched all races of soldiers and merchants arrive by horse, cart, or caravan, sometimes though the gates and sometimes though the portals from a street rat’s eye view. And sometimes I dreamed of traveling with them myself.
As the years past and I grew thin, wiry, and less short. I aspired to be more than a street urchin and really was too honest to steal for a living so I approached the head monk of the Order and asked if I could learn the mysticism and martial arts I’d seen them practice all my life. Master Shuk’toh’rhi, who was tall, thin, grey skinned and of undetermined race, said that I had chosen the chaos of the streets my entire life over the peace of the monastery and the Order of the Way and their path was not mine. However, he said the reason he had continued feed and clothe me through my youth was he detected a spark of something in me that was rare in my race.
So we made a deal; I went to work chopping, plucking, dicing and stirring in the kitchen, served Master Shuk his meals, scrubbed and cleaned and in return I spent an hour a day meditating with my Master. At first it was tedium but over time I detected a spark of something within me, a diamond of will that could shape the world around me. Under Master Shuk’toh’rhi’s guidance I imbued a piece of turquoise I’d carried around for years for luck with a bit of a personality from my younger days. I called him Urchin, and he whispered to me to keep quiet and beneath notice.
Following this impulse I slowly learned to reach for that small spark inside of me and use it to blend me into my surroundings. When I told my Master of this he smiled and said it was good, I had been set on my Way. Now it was time for me to leave the monastery.
I won’t lie, it hurt to hear that, and then it frightened the hell out of me. Life cooking, cleaning, and meditating had brought me some peace and maybe a sense of home more personal than this giant mess of a silk and canvas city. But later my old dreams of excitement, glory, and adventure were remembered and with little mishap I enrolled as a grunt in the Stormbirds Company who happened to be recruiting between contracts.
The Stormbirds are commanded by Lord Captain Salimis, an honest to goodness Djinni whose body dissolved into a vortex of clouds below the waist. When I was first brought before him I entered a silk tent that inside was piles of silk cushions surrounding a small table and open air and clouds above, beside, and below us leading off into infinity. Now I’m fairly confident it was an illusion and not a portal to some distant plane but it was an exquisite one that must have been made with exacting care.
Lord Captain Salimis was a boisterous soul who enjoyed the role of commander and the deference due his rank. He dressed in purple and gold silk with a bejeweled diadem beneath a white turban. It was made clear to always refer to him by his honorific and to never, as a grunt, expect to enter his tent again but for all that he was a generous host while I was there. The main purpose of the interview was to secure my signature on a contract to Lord Captain Salimis personally that I was in his service for the duration of the next campaign, duty bound to obey his officers, entitled to food and armament, and to be rewarded with a single share of any loot taken at the campaign’s conclusion. There was also a list of punishments for infractions that I paid less attention to as I truly wished to be a good and loyal soldier.
Having become a recruit of the Stormbirds I was given over to Lieutenant Komwill, a black haired Halfling who was head of the scouts. Komwill wore hard boiled leather armor, kept a pair of swords at his waist, and had a pet snake coiled around his bandana like a headband. There were three new recruits out of a group of twenty or so and Komwill said our abilities to keep a low profile would be tested and trained. He also said he was certain a few of us had lifted a coin purse or two and there would be none of that among his boys. We were then issued darkened leather armor and wooden weapons and paired off against each other to test out skills and I suspect to provide amusement to the veteran members.
I found myself in a ring of bodies facing off against a whip thin elven woman as beautiful as my mug was ugly. I was going to get a drubbing if I couldn’t forget my hormones and concentrate on her sword. As expected she was no stronger than she looked but she fought with a fluidity that I couldn’t begin to match. After receiving a few bruises trying to parry and riposte I accepted a sharp jab in the chest to bring my rapier down on her sword arm, numbing it. Komwill pronounced us both dead as I would have been skewered had the swords been sharpened. I disagreed privately, I heal like a troll. Well, almost. The woman reacted with good cheer and introduced herself as Trang.
My next opponent was the third new member of the squad, a rough looking orc whose travel stained animal skins could have told some interesting tales as to where he’d come from if I could read them. He had size and strength on me but he had a couple of talismans hanging off his cloths that didn’t say warrior. My suspicions were proved right when he began the fight by pointing at me and mumbling “prostrate.” I couldn’t help myself, I lay down on the ground before the orc and quickly had the wind knocked out of me. This is how I met Kugo, priest of the Hornfoot.
With the fighting over the watching veterans stopped cheering and betting and Lieutenant Komwell informed us we were all miserable warriors but that didn’t matter because this was the scouts. Now we had the real trial. The two company phalanxes, Impenetrable and Anvil were going to face off tomorrow and the winner got to roast and eat the other team’s mascot. Our orders were to capture Impenetrable’s goat and Anvil’s dog before breakfast tomorrow. Now this sounded like something more up my alley than getting smacked around by my fellow recruits.
Left to ourselves my two new squad mates and I sized each other up. I took a guess at what they saw in me: human, warrior. That made me the neutral party between the gorgeous blonde haired twig of an elf and the muscle bound spell spewing orc who looked like he stepped right out of the wilderness. Or maybe a portal. Growing up on the streets of Hartpolis gave me a pretty opened minded view of who made acceptable companions but I’ve learned others take it real personally if their daddy’s daddy got his nose tweaked by a different race.
I got the natural magnetism of wet cat and the looks that might make Kugo the orc think I’m handsome but someone had to break the ice. You must be powerful, I say to Kugo, that spell ended our scuffle in a heartbeat.
He stroked a small hide bag hanging around his neck and smiled a mouth featuring block like teeth and a broken tusk. The Hornfoot wanders far in search of battle; his path is mine said the orc. I belatedly noticed Kugo wore no boots, but the soles of his feet looked black and hard. But have no worries Morin the man, he spoke, in this company I am on my Way and this little test is but a necessary stepping stone to glory.
Apparently he decided to directly lance the boil I’d been easing my way toward and Kugo turned to address Trang. I had not thought to start my saga alongside an elf, but endurance is a virtue.
Trang’s smile lit up her green eyes but it wasn’t entirely friendly. She reached into her pouch before answering, produced a flask, and drained it. I could smell the whiskey. Grace is as well, she said. I will wish only for success in our endeavors.
I didn’t know what to think. Was this détente genuine or simply platitudes disguising hatreds. Regardless we had orders to follow.
They proved easier than expected. Impenetrable’s goat was kept in a corral with a single guard that Trang and I shared chatted with over whiskey while Kugo enspelled the animal to follow him and eat a carrot. Despite carrying a flask on her person, Trang couldn’t hold her booze at all and was starting to stagger just a bit. This might have come in handy because a tipsy beautiful elf provided a hell of a distraction to the two guards to Anvil’s mutt Scipio, especially when she tried to show off her dancing. I half carried Trang back to Lieutenant Komwill while Kugo led the animals.
Komwill was pleased with our success and said he called off the four mile run around camp he’d planned for that night. Trang giggled.
Over the next few days we practiced stealth and camouflage, broken up by marching drills and combat drills. I was glad I wasn’t in the phalanxes. Practicing breaking up each other’s ranks with wooden poles left you bruised, tired, and bloody. It was much more my style to try and steal a colored pebble Komwill was “guarding” but I suppose it was all soldiering. Eventually word came down that Lord Captain Salimis wanted to address the entire company and the rumor was we’d finally gotten a contract.
The entire Stormbird company, some hundred of us, marched north east from Hartpolis toward the Brown Bone Hills where Lord Commander Salimis had been hired to remove the il-lang goblin tribe and secure the temple complex there. Apparently the Elementium Trading Corporation had detected a strong likelihood of a portal being present and was eager to claim the route.
The march was hot, dry, and increasingly rocky as flat plains gave way to light woods as the land rose. Kugo and I managed to hump our packs of food and supplies well enough but Trang was having a rough time of it. She made baby eyes at me until I offered to help her carry her load. I made sure Kugo didn’t notice, he’d probably curse me to teach me not to be a sucker elf lover.
We passed a force of some ten horsemen heading south on the fourth day carrying large plains cat carcases over their saddles. They spoke little, only confirming that the il-lang goblins were indeed in the Brown Bone Hills.
On the sixth night of the march Trang and I were on watch about four hundred yards from camp with nothing but large horn to help us if something approached. Not that we expected anything, we were told that in these lands holding watch was more an act of principle than pragmatism. I took the opportunity to ask a few questions of my companion.
Everything I’ve heard about anything says orcs and elves don’t mix. What makes you tolerate Kugo, Trang?
A few things, she said. First I’m a Stormbird and he’s a Stormbird so sooner or later we’ll be fighting side by side. Second He’s a priest of the Hornfoot, a god concerned with travel and martial glory rather than the more despicable orcish dieties. I’m a warrior as well, his beliefs aren’t mine but they aren’t completely opposed. Finally and most importantly if I wanted to be around beings that all shared my beliefs I’d have never left Tang Los. In a way the Kugos of the world are something I’ve sought out. Now the real question is why do you think I tolerate you?
Because I’m a simple human warrior, I say. I’m here to do my duty and make my fortune like fifty other souls in this outfit. That’s why you tolerate me.
Nope. I just put up with you because you carry my stuff.
I smile. I’d say I have ulterior motives, but then I remember your probably older than my grandmother. But what am I doing, talking about a woman’s age.
Trang shrugs. That’s a human thing. Here comes Kugo.
The orc, who had refused the standard issue boiled leather and remained in his hides, walked out of the darkness and sat down next to us. Hello Morin, elf.
Hello orc. Isn’t common a nice neutral language? It’s impossible to say your species in my native tongue without it being a pejorative. No offense.
I’m not offended. The nicest thing I can say in Grummsh’s language about you is your taste. And speaking of One Eye, I found another of the people among the ranks, an old grandfather carrying a spear in Anvil. His name is Husku and his body is decorated with symbols of glory and bloodshed. He asked for the blessing of the Hornfoot before mentioning he knew the secrets of making a poisonous oil from the blood toad that lives in these plains. We should be watchful.
That could be useful, I said. Why do you insist on wearing those hides Kugo? They look heavy and they reek.
My litter mates and I killed the wolf pack they come from. I’ll wear them until I have better trophies.
We lapsed into silence for a time and watched the night slowly pass.
Morin, Kugo eventually spoke, have you ever killed? Not an animal, someone that can think.
No.
I haven’t either, when the times comes it will be a moment of death or glory. The Hornfoot will be with us.
Trang takes a drink from her wine flask. I haven’t killed an intelligent being either, will the Hornfoot be with me as well?
Never.
Good.
We spoke no more that night.
I’m from Hartpolis, the city of tents, you may have heard of it. We’re famous for our merchants, soldiers, thieves, and the difficulty of telling which is which. It wasn’t a bad place to grow up, if you can learn to be proud of a dubious and low heritage. My mother was a whore who died of the yellow plague and my father could have been anyone. I was raised on the charity Order of the Way monks, such as I was, but mostly I ran wild.
I learned through experience that I wasn’t strong or nimble but somehow I could take a punch or four and maybe a kick or two but still wake up feeling mostly myself the next day. A doorway or gutter isn’t a bad place to sleep if your too poor to rob and too ugly to rape. I watched all races of soldiers and merchants arrive by horse, cart, or caravan, sometimes though the gates and sometimes though the portals from a street rat’s eye view. And sometimes I dreamed of traveling with them myself.
As the years past and I grew thin, wiry, and less short. I aspired to be more than a street urchin and really was too honest to steal for a living so I approached the head monk of the Order and asked if I could learn the mysticism and martial arts I’d seen them practice all my life. Master Shuk’toh’rhi, who was tall, thin, grey skinned and of undetermined race, said that I had chosen the chaos of the streets my entire life over the peace of the monastery and the Order of the Way and their path was not mine. However, he said the reason he had continued feed and clothe me through my youth was he detected a spark of something in me that was rare in my race.
So we made a deal; I went to work chopping, plucking, dicing and stirring in the kitchen, served Master Shuk his meals, scrubbed and cleaned and in return I spent an hour a day meditating with my Master. At first it was tedium but over time I detected a spark of something within me, a diamond of will that could shape the world around me. Under Master Shuk’toh’rhi’s guidance I imbued a piece of turquoise I’d carried around for years for luck with a bit of a personality from my younger days. I called him Urchin, and he whispered to me to keep quiet and beneath notice.
Following this impulse I slowly learned to reach for that small spark inside of me and use it to blend me into my surroundings. When I told my Master of this he smiled and said it was good, I had been set on my Way. Now it was time for me to leave the monastery.
I won’t lie, it hurt to hear that, and then it frightened the hell out of me. Life cooking, cleaning, and meditating had brought me some peace and maybe a sense of home more personal than this giant mess of a silk and canvas city. But later my old dreams of excitement, glory, and adventure were remembered and with little mishap I enrolled as a grunt in the Stormbirds Company who happened to be recruiting between contracts.
The Stormbirds are commanded by Lord Captain Salimis, an honest to goodness Djinni whose body dissolved into a vortex of clouds below the waist. When I was first brought before him I entered a silk tent that inside was piles of silk cushions surrounding a small table and open air and clouds above, beside, and below us leading off into infinity. Now I’m fairly confident it was an illusion and not a portal to some distant plane but it was an exquisite one that must have been made with exacting care.
Lord Captain Salimis was a boisterous soul who enjoyed the role of commander and the deference due his rank. He dressed in purple and gold silk with a bejeweled diadem beneath a white turban. It was made clear to always refer to him by his honorific and to never, as a grunt, expect to enter his tent again but for all that he was a generous host while I was there. The main purpose of the interview was to secure my signature on a contract to Lord Captain Salimis personally that I was in his service for the duration of the next campaign, duty bound to obey his officers, entitled to food and armament, and to be rewarded with a single share of any loot taken at the campaign’s conclusion. There was also a list of punishments for infractions that I paid less attention to as I truly wished to be a good and loyal soldier.
Having become a recruit of the Stormbirds I was given over to Lieutenant Komwill, a black haired Halfling who was head of the scouts. Komwill wore hard boiled leather armor, kept a pair of swords at his waist, and had a pet snake coiled around his bandana like a headband. There were three new recruits out of a group of twenty or so and Komwill said our abilities to keep a low profile would be tested and trained. He also said he was certain a few of us had lifted a coin purse or two and there would be none of that among his boys. We were then issued darkened leather armor and wooden weapons and paired off against each other to test out skills and I suspect to provide amusement to the veteran members.
I found myself in a ring of bodies facing off against a whip thin elven woman as beautiful as my mug was ugly. I was going to get a drubbing if I couldn’t forget my hormones and concentrate on her sword. As expected she was no stronger than she looked but she fought with a fluidity that I couldn’t begin to match. After receiving a few bruises trying to parry and riposte I accepted a sharp jab in the chest to bring my rapier down on her sword arm, numbing it. Komwill pronounced us both dead as I would have been skewered had the swords been sharpened. I disagreed privately, I heal like a troll. Well, almost. The woman reacted with good cheer and introduced herself as Trang.
My next opponent was the third new member of the squad, a rough looking orc whose travel stained animal skins could have told some interesting tales as to where he’d come from if I could read them. He had size and strength on me but he had a couple of talismans hanging off his cloths that didn’t say warrior. My suspicions were proved right when he began the fight by pointing at me and mumbling “prostrate.” I couldn’t help myself, I lay down on the ground before the orc and quickly had the wind knocked out of me. This is how I met Kugo, priest of the Hornfoot.
With the fighting over the watching veterans stopped cheering and betting and Lieutenant Komwell informed us we were all miserable warriors but that didn’t matter because this was the scouts. Now we had the real trial. The two company phalanxes, Impenetrable and Anvil were going to face off tomorrow and the winner got to roast and eat the other team’s mascot. Our orders were to capture Impenetrable’s goat and Anvil’s dog before breakfast tomorrow. Now this sounded like something more up my alley than getting smacked around by my fellow recruits.
Left to ourselves my two new squad mates and I sized each other up. I took a guess at what they saw in me: human, warrior. That made me the neutral party between the gorgeous blonde haired twig of an elf and the muscle bound spell spewing orc who looked like he stepped right out of the wilderness. Or maybe a portal. Growing up on the streets of Hartpolis gave me a pretty opened minded view of who made acceptable companions but I’ve learned others take it real personally if their daddy’s daddy got his nose tweaked by a different race.
I got the natural magnetism of wet cat and the looks that might make Kugo the orc think I’m handsome but someone had to break the ice. You must be powerful, I say to Kugo, that spell ended our scuffle in a heartbeat.
He stroked a small hide bag hanging around his neck and smiled a mouth featuring block like teeth and a broken tusk. The Hornfoot wanders far in search of battle; his path is mine said the orc. I belatedly noticed Kugo wore no boots, but the soles of his feet looked black and hard. But have no worries Morin the man, he spoke, in this company I am on my Way and this little test is but a necessary stepping stone to glory.
Apparently he decided to directly lance the boil I’d been easing my way toward and Kugo turned to address Trang. I had not thought to start my saga alongside an elf, but endurance is a virtue.
Trang’s smile lit up her green eyes but it wasn’t entirely friendly. She reached into her pouch before answering, produced a flask, and drained it. I could smell the whiskey. Grace is as well, she said. I will wish only for success in our endeavors.
I didn’t know what to think. Was this détente genuine or simply platitudes disguising hatreds. Regardless we had orders to follow.
They proved easier than expected. Impenetrable’s goat was kept in a corral with a single guard that Trang and I shared chatted with over whiskey while Kugo enspelled the animal to follow him and eat a carrot. Despite carrying a flask on her person, Trang couldn’t hold her booze at all and was starting to stagger just a bit. This might have come in handy because a tipsy beautiful elf provided a hell of a distraction to the two guards to Anvil’s mutt Scipio, especially when she tried to show off her dancing. I half carried Trang back to Lieutenant Komwill while Kugo led the animals.
Komwill was pleased with our success and said he called off the four mile run around camp he’d planned for that night. Trang giggled.
Over the next few days we practiced stealth and camouflage, broken up by marching drills and combat drills. I was glad I wasn’t in the phalanxes. Practicing breaking up each other’s ranks with wooden poles left you bruised, tired, and bloody. It was much more my style to try and steal a colored pebble Komwill was “guarding” but I suppose it was all soldiering. Eventually word came down that Lord Captain Salimis wanted to address the entire company and the rumor was we’d finally gotten a contract.
The entire Stormbird company, some hundred of us, marched north east from Hartpolis toward the Brown Bone Hills where Lord Commander Salimis had been hired to remove the il-lang goblin tribe and secure the temple complex there. Apparently the Elementium Trading Corporation had detected a strong likelihood of a portal being present and was eager to claim the route.
The march was hot, dry, and increasingly rocky as flat plains gave way to light woods as the land rose. Kugo and I managed to hump our packs of food and supplies well enough but Trang was having a rough time of it. She made baby eyes at me until I offered to help her carry her load. I made sure Kugo didn’t notice, he’d probably curse me to teach me not to be a sucker elf lover.
We passed a force of some ten horsemen heading south on the fourth day carrying large plains cat carcases over their saddles. They spoke little, only confirming that the il-lang goblins were indeed in the Brown Bone Hills.
On the sixth night of the march Trang and I were on watch about four hundred yards from camp with nothing but large horn to help us if something approached. Not that we expected anything, we were told that in these lands holding watch was more an act of principle than pragmatism. I took the opportunity to ask a few questions of my companion.
Everything I’ve heard about anything says orcs and elves don’t mix. What makes you tolerate Kugo, Trang?
A few things, she said. First I’m a Stormbird and he’s a Stormbird so sooner or later we’ll be fighting side by side. Second He’s a priest of the Hornfoot, a god concerned with travel and martial glory rather than the more despicable orcish dieties. I’m a warrior as well, his beliefs aren’t mine but they aren’t completely opposed. Finally and most importantly if I wanted to be around beings that all shared my beliefs I’d have never left Tang Los. In a way the Kugos of the world are something I’ve sought out. Now the real question is why do you think I tolerate you?
Because I’m a simple human warrior, I say. I’m here to do my duty and make my fortune like fifty other souls in this outfit. That’s why you tolerate me.
Nope. I just put up with you because you carry my stuff.
I smile. I’d say I have ulterior motives, but then I remember your probably older than my grandmother. But what am I doing, talking about a woman’s age.
Trang shrugs. That’s a human thing. Here comes Kugo.
The orc, who had refused the standard issue boiled leather and remained in his hides, walked out of the darkness and sat down next to us. Hello Morin, elf.
Hello orc. Isn’t common a nice neutral language? It’s impossible to say your species in my native tongue without it being a pejorative. No offense.
I’m not offended. The nicest thing I can say in Grummsh’s language about you is your taste. And speaking of One Eye, I found another of the people among the ranks, an old grandfather carrying a spear in Anvil. His name is Husku and his body is decorated with symbols of glory and bloodshed. He asked for the blessing of the Hornfoot before mentioning he knew the secrets of making a poisonous oil from the blood toad that lives in these plains. We should be watchful.
That could be useful, I said. Why do you insist on wearing those hides Kugo? They look heavy and they reek.
My litter mates and I killed the wolf pack they come from. I’ll wear them until I have better trophies.
We lapsed into silence for a time and watched the night slowly pass.
Morin, Kugo eventually spoke, have you ever killed? Not an animal, someone that can think.
No.
I haven’t either, when the times comes it will be a moment of death or glory. The Hornfoot will be with us.
Trang takes a drink from her wine flask. I haven’t killed an intelligent being either, will the Hornfoot be with me as well?
Never.
Good.
We spoke no more that night.
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