TaranTheWanderer
Legend
Updated the Map.
Al-Qarin: Into the Desert (3-1-24)
EternalNewbie
Explorer
Muscles surging, Gorak crested the tree tops and headed straight for the village. Quickly nearing the town, his eyes, sharpened by the transformation, picked out flickers of movement between the trees below. Grimly, he redoubled his efforts, racing through the sky. What would take more than half a day on foot took him less then an hour to cover in flight and soon the first houses at the edge of the village came into sight. He was more than a little relieved to see that the assault had not yet begun and the town below bustled with activity. He flew toward the centre of the village, circling above a long, low building, three times the size of the largest house. Leather clad rangers and villagers swarmed around it, erecting wooden battlements along the edges of the roof. A fifteen foot tall watch tower, newly built by the looks of it, sat in the centre with a ranger on the platform at the top scanning the tree line in all directions. Spotting Erik among the men on the roof, Gorak swooped in low and shifted back to his normal form, eliciting more than a few startled gasps.
Erik, watching him with an decidedly unfriendly expression, spoke up as the men looked around in confusion and reached for their swords. “Put your weapons away,” he barked. “This one's friendly. Or stupid. Either way, he's not much of a threat.”
“Not to you at least,” Gorak growled. “There's four ogres and an Orc buried in a shallow grave out there that'd disagree. Before you get your panties in a bunch, Geoff said to tell you, 'The sun never sets upon the Green'.”
Although the scowl didn't leave his face, Erik seemed to relax slightly. “Alright, he trusted you enough to make sure we wouldn't kill you outright. Now tell me, why isn't he here to vouch for you himself.”
“We found your boy Gavin. Seems like he didn't like the odds too much on this side of the wall, and cut hisself a deal with the Orcs.” He leaned in close to Erik. “He told them everything and you'd better believe I know what that means. You're gonna have a whole mess of Orcs in here any time now.”
Erik, anger simmering just below the surface of his impassive demeanour, replied, “We pulled in our scouts this afternoon. There's Orc sign all over the edge of the woods in large numbers. If Geoff broke his oath and told you,” he held up his hand as Gorak started to protest, “for whatever reason, then you know what's coming. You'd better clear out of here.”
“I don't think so,” Gorak rumbled. “We're gonna see this one through. And by the end of it, trust me, yer gonna need us. The other's will be here by morning.”
“Well, that'll help,” Erik replied, mastering his emotions. “If we live that long. Know anything about sieges?”
“More than you lot, I'd wager.” Gorak growled. “We're one for two. We're turned back a tribe of Orcs at Knolton but the Dwerro at Caer Morag, not so much. And both of them towns had ramparts. You might have considered a wall at some time in the last few hundred years, you know.”
“You can't wall out the Green,” Erik answered piously. Seeing Gorak's grimace, he relented. “But I'll give you that one. I'd feel a lot better if there were a half dozen feet of stone between us and the forest right about now.”
“Normally, all you'd have ta do is ask me nicely, but I don't think we've got the time.”
“Well, unless you could conjure me up another hundred blades to man it, it probably wouldn't matter much anyhow.” Erik sized him up with a sidelong glance. “I figured the tan fellow in the red dress for a wizard, but you don't look the sort. Earthbrother?”
“If that's what you want to call it, sure.” Gorak agreed.
“Still can't see how you figure you're better off on this side then the other.”
“I've delivered more than one of Rasha'guar's holy men to their final reward, Ranger. I don't think that's gonna endear me to him a whole lot. And I got those other fools to think of too.” He shrugged. Besides, only thing Orcs like killing more than humans is other Orcs.”
“And why might that be?”
“They put up a better fight,” Gorak replied with a grin. Turning serious again, he asked, “What have you got planned?”
“There's no way we can hold the perimeter. We're fortifying an area around this building, pulling down some houses and blocking up the roads. We'll give them just enough resistance in the outskirts to make them cautious, then pull back to inner defenses. If Gavin betrayed us, they won't stop until they reach this building or they're all dead. We'll give them a few soft spots to push through and funnel them here, bleeding them every step of the way.”
Gorak nodded. “Can't argue with that. What about the women and children?”
“Everybody able to wield a sword has got one. The rest are hidden away in safe rooms in houses near the centre of town.”
“Well, the rest of my crew are stuck on the other side of the lines until morning and there ain't nothing I can do about that, so I might as well pitch in.” With a nod to Erik, Gorak dropped off the roof and headed over to a group of men dismantling a house. Picking up one of the huge timbers from the wall of the building and setting it on his shoulder, he walked it over to where a group of men were sharpening stakes to create a wooden palisade. Tossing it to the ground in front of them, he headed back for another. He worked in silence beside the men of the village, sensing their unease with his presence. Gradually, they began to relax after it became clear he was easily doing the work of two men. When a young girl came around with a wine skin, one of the men nodded his head in Gorak's direction, and she hesitantly walked over to him, offering him a drink. Taking a long pull of what turned out to be a fairly powerful fermented fruit juice and handing it back to the girl, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and got back to work.
He toiled tirelessly through the afternoon, barely pausing to catch his breath. He tossed a final armload of wood upon a heap of oil soaked branches, one of a dozen scattered around the centre of the town, placed both as a barrier and a counter to the unparallelled Orcish night vision. Stretching his arms over his head, he attempted to relieve his aching muscles as he walked back to the ranger's barracks, climbing up on the roof to rejoin Erik, who was quietly surveying the defenses from his vantage point. They watched in silence for a time, while the villagers continued their work.
Finally, Gorak spoke. “So I gotta ask. Why keep that thing here? Why not destroy it?”
“We never could figure out how. More than a few died trying,” Erik replied. “Even if we knew how, would you do it? Raise your hand against a god? It's one thing to kill a few of his followers. It's something else to destroy part of his being. How long could you withstand the terrible hatred of a savage and powerful God?”
Gorak, thinking back to the unpleasantness the dogged them since they left Shalazar, grumbled. “Long enough. But I kin see your point. Not that it matters much now.”
“Not at all,” Erik agreed.
Here and there among the houses, torches were lit and Gorak knew that many more had been placed in the event the Orcs attacked in the night. Eventually, they were engulfed in true darkness, the sun vanishing at the appearance of the twin moons, beneath a glittering canopy of stars. The village had begun to quiet, when a sound Gorak hadn't heard in at least a decade reached his ears. What started out as a low throbbing became a rumble that gained in strength, rolling over the town like a wave. Gorak's blood surged as his heritage overtook him, his hands clenching involuntarily into fists. He looked around at the faces of the men beside him, hardened soldiers, seeing the blood drain away. They may not have been born to it, but they knew the sound as well as he. Orcish war drums.
“Well Orc,” Erik said loudly, speaking over the rising din, “looks like you're gonna get your chance to prove which side you're really on.”
“Soon enough,” Gorak agreed, listening to the tempo. “They ain't in no rush yet. They'll let you stew on it for a bit while they work themselves into a frenzy. By now, they know you're cut off and there ain't no help coming.” He paused, staring out into the darkness. “It's gonna be a long night and one helluva an interesting morning.”
Erik, watching him with an decidedly unfriendly expression, spoke up as the men looked around in confusion and reached for their swords. “Put your weapons away,” he barked. “This one's friendly. Or stupid. Either way, he's not much of a threat.”
“Not to you at least,” Gorak growled. “There's four ogres and an Orc buried in a shallow grave out there that'd disagree. Before you get your panties in a bunch, Geoff said to tell you, 'The sun never sets upon the Green'.”
Although the scowl didn't leave his face, Erik seemed to relax slightly. “Alright, he trusted you enough to make sure we wouldn't kill you outright. Now tell me, why isn't he here to vouch for you himself.”
“We found your boy Gavin. Seems like he didn't like the odds too much on this side of the wall, and cut hisself a deal with the Orcs.” He leaned in close to Erik. “He told them everything and you'd better believe I know what that means. You're gonna have a whole mess of Orcs in here any time now.”
Erik, anger simmering just below the surface of his impassive demeanour, replied, “We pulled in our scouts this afternoon. There's Orc sign all over the edge of the woods in large numbers. If Geoff broke his oath and told you,” he held up his hand as Gorak started to protest, “for whatever reason, then you know what's coming. You'd better clear out of here.”
“I don't think so,” Gorak rumbled. “We're gonna see this one through. And by the end of it, trust me, yer gonna need us. The other's will be here by morning.”
“Well, that'll help,” Erik replied, mastering his emotions. “If we live that long. Know anything about sieges?”
“More than you lot, I'd wager.” Gorak growled. “We're one for two. We're turned back a tribe of Orcs at Knolton but the Dwerro at Caer Morag, not so much. And both of them towns had ramparts. You might have considered a wall at some time in the last few hundred years, you know.”
“You can't wall out the Green,” Erik answered piously. Seeing Gorak's grimace, he relented. “But I'll give you that one. I'd feel a lot better if there were a half dozen feet of stone between us and the forest right about now.”
“Normally, all you'd have ta do is ask me nicely, but I don't think we've got the time.”
“Well, unless you could conjure me up another hundred blades to man it, it probably wouldn't matter much anyhow.” Erik sized him up with a sidelong glance. “I figured the tan fellow in the red dress for a wizard, but you don't look the sort. Earthbrother?”
“If that's what you want to call it, sure.” Gorak agreed.
“Still can't see how you figure you're better off on this side then the other.”
“I've delivered more than one of Rasha'guar's holy men to their final reward, Ranger. I don't think that's gonna endear me to him a whole lot. And I got those other fools to think of too.” He shrugged. Besides, only thing Orcs like killing more than humans is other Orcs.”
“And why might that be?”
“They put up a better fight,” Gorak replied with a grin. Turning serious again, he asked, “What have you got planned?”
“There's no way we can hold the perimeter. We're fortifying an area around this building, pulling down some houses and blocking up the roads. We'll give them just enough resistance in the outskirts to make them cautious, then pull back to inner defenses. If Gavin betrayed us, they won't stop until they reach this building or they're all dead. We'll give them a few soft spots to push through and funnel them here, bleeding them every step of the way.”
Gorak nodded. “Can't argue with that. What about the women and children?”
“Everybody able to wield a sword has got one. The rest are hidden away in safe rooms in houses near the centre of town.”
“Well, the rest of my crew are stuck on the other side of the lines until morning and there ain't nothing I can do about that, so I might as well pitch in.” With a nod to Erik, Gorak dropped off the roof and headed over to a group of men dismantling a house. Picking up one of the huge timbers from the wall of the building and setting it on his shoulder, he walked it over to where a group of men were sharpening stakes to create a wooden palisade. Tossing it to the ground in front of them, he headed back for another. He worked in silence beside the men of the village, sensing their unease with his presence. Gradually, they began to relax after it became clear he was easily doing the work of two men. When a young girl came around with a wine skin, one of the men nodded his head in Gorak's direction, and she hesitantly walked over to him, offering him a drink. Taking a long pull of what turned out to be a fairly powerful fermented fruit juice and handing it back to the girl, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and got back to work.
He toiled tirelessly through the afternoon, barely pausing to catch his breath. He tossed a final armload of wood upon a heap of oil soaked branches, one of a dozen scattered around the centre of the town, placed both as a barrier and a counter to the unparallelled Orcish night vision. Stretching his arms over his head, he attempted to relieve his aching muscles as he walked back to the ranger's barracks, climbing up on the roof to rejoin Erik, who was quietly surveying the defenses from his vantage point. They watched in silence for a time, while the villagers continued their work.
Finally, Gorak spoke. “So I gotta ask. Why keep that thing here? Why not destroy it?”
“We never could figure out how. More than a few died trying,” Erik replied. “Even if we knew how, would you do it? Raise your hand against a god? It's one thing to kill a few of his followers. It's something else to destroy part of his being. How long could you withstand the terrible hatred of a savage and powerful God?”
Gorak, thinking back to the unpleasantness the dogged them since they left Shalazar, grumbled. “Long enough. But I kin see your point. Not that it matters much now.”
“Not at all,” Erik agreed.
Here and there among the houses, torches were lit and Gorak knew that many more had been placed in the event the Orcs attacked in the night. Eventually, they were engulfed in true darkness, the sun vanishing at the appearance of the twin moons, beneath a glittering canopy of stars. The village had begun to quiet, when a sound Gorak hadn't heard in at least a decade reached his ears. What started out as a low throbbing became a rumble that gained in strength, rolling over the town like a wave. Gorak's blood surged as his heritage overtook him, his hands clenching involuntarily into fists. He looked around at the faces of the men beside him, hardened soldiers, seeing the blood drain away. They may not have been born to it, but they knew the sound as well as he. Orcish war drums.
“Well Orc,” Erik said loudly, speaking over the rising din, “looks like you're gonna get your chance to prove which side you're really on.”
“Soon enough,” Gorak agreed, listening to the tempo. “They ain't in no rush yet. They'll let you stew on it for a bit while they work themselves into a frenzy. By now, they know you're cut off and there ain't no help coming.” He paused, staring out into the darkness. “It's gonna be a long night and one helluva an interesting morning.”
TaranTheWanderer
Legend
Just a bump....Heads up...
EternalNewbie
Explorer
A particularly violent snore from Azarek startled Khalid awake. Seizing the cowl of his robe, he pulled it over his head in a vain attempt to recapture the fleeting remnants of sleep but all too quickly thoughts of the coming day boiled up in his mind and immediately rendered sleep impossible. Rolling over, he sought out the portal and seeing nothing but darkness, decided it was still several hours before daybreak. Stifling a prodigious yawn, he scrounged around in his pack for his spellbook. Pulling it out, he sat up and realized for the first time that Shayla, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the magical dimension, was staring at him.
“Ah, I hope I didn't disturb your sleep,” Khalid whispered hoarsely, knowing that waking the others would lead to the day's grim preparations, something he was too groggy to yet contemplate.
“I don't sleep anymore,” Shayla replied. “Not really. Not since I crossed over.” It was rare for Shayla to bring up what had happened on the road outside Caer Morag, and Khalid was never quite sure how to react. Not knowing what to say, he said nothing. She seemed only half aware of him and continued on without prompting. “ Now I just...sit. Very still. And I don't dream either. I think maybe I'm starting to forget what it was like altogether. Isn't that strange?”
“Ah, yes, I, supposed that would very well be an unusual experience.” Khalid studied her carefully. “But lack of sleep aside, how do you feel?” Before a battle, the old Shayla had practically hummed with energy. A concentration of power that infected her actions, her gestures and even her speech. Now, she seemed calm, almost serene. It was, in an unusual way, distressing.
“Don't worry Khalid. I'll be ready. I feel fine. I feel...strong.” She replied, absently scratching her familiar, Emma under the chin.
“Yes, quite,” Khalid replied somewhat hesitantly, eliciting a long stare from the cat, eerie in its similarity to her master's.
Before he could press the issue, Geoff awoke and stood up. Looking out the portal, he said, “We should get moving. It's going to be light soon.”
Khalid gathered up his things and kicked the heel of Azarek's boot, who awoke with a snort. Grumbling under his breath, Azarek began the tedious process of assembling his heavy plate armour. With Geoff's help, he was ready in a matter of minutes. Settling his helm over his horns, he slung his huge hand and a half sword over his shoulder, and belted the Dwerro war hammer around his waist. With a grunt at Khalid, he indicated his readiness.
Pushing the rope outside, Khalid opened the portal, then quickly stepped back, startled by the sound of drums that flooded into their quiet refuge.
“The Orcs are on the move,” Geoff said. “We have got to get to the village.”
Dropping out into the dim, predawn light, Khalid groaned inwardly. Outside the air was warm and damp, even in the early morning among the shade of the trees. It would not be a pleasant day. They took up the same positions as the night before with Geoff leading a dozen feet ahead and Azarek taking up the rear, every step dogged by the sound of drums.
“Erik,” a breathless villager called up from the street below.
Erik broke away from conferring with his lieutenants at the base of the tower on his rooftop command post and walked to the edge. “What is it, Stephen?”
“Arron said to tell you there are Orcs massing to the south. We can see them moving along the tree line.”
“All right. Richard. Markus. Darryl,” he singled out three villagers from a group of men standing guard near the door of the barracks. I want you to run out to the other forward positions and get me a report. Stephen, stay put until the others get back then run the news back out.” Glancing at Gorak, he said, “If your friends don't get here soon, the only way they're gonna help is by digging our graves .”
“Tell me about it,” Gorak growled. “They're caught behind the lines. I'm gonna go try and get them through. I'll be back before the fun starts.” Before Erik could stop him, he stepped off the edge of the roof and flew off to the south.
“I've been looking for you for hours,” Gorak growled, shifting back into his Orcish form and dropping to the ground in front of Khalid.
“Whut did you expect? The idea was to stay hidden from Orcs, remember?” Azarek pointed out with a smirk.
“The plan was to help the village,” Gorak growled. “Not wander around the woods for a day and a half.”
“Blame the ranger,” Azarek rasped. “He's such a good tracker he finds Orcs even when he ain't looking for 'em.”
“You're in fine form today,” Shayla remarked caustically.
“Imminent violence always puts me in a good mood,” Azarek replied with wink. “And this time I don't even hafta dangle my cod out in the breeze to get it,” he added with a barking laugh. “Anyhow, the Orcs is thick as flies on shyte in this wee little spot of forest, and so far, we ain't be able to sneak through.”
“Ah, and we are not yet close enough to the village,” Khalid added. “I would not risk, yes, risk the magick unravelling and depositing us in the middle of the Orcish horde.”
“I'll lead you through. Stick close. We're gonna move fast.” Raising his hands over his head, he chanted words of power. In the hazy clouds above, thunder rumbled. “And if we see the son of a bitch that's stirring up this rabble, I'll end this thing right now.”
“Ain't nothing but a whole lotta blood gonna end this now,” Azarek muttered but Gorak was already in the air.
The humidity was a physical thing now, clinging to their skin and clogging their lungs. Khalid had been in fair share of unpleasant situations, but the harrowing run through the woods ranked up there with the worst. All around them were the sounds of the Orcish horde, screaming and chanting to the rhythm of the drums. Gorak, in the form of an owl, flitted from tree to tree, occasionally disappearing from sight to scout ahead. Every so often he would swoop down in front of them, turning their course to avoid Orcs in their path. The constant thunder of drums eliminated the need for silence, so they concentrated on following Gorak with all possible haste. Dripping with sweat, Khalid kept pace easily. Azarek however, unaffected by the heat but burdened by his massive armour, struggled to keep up. Just when he thought he sound of the drums would drive him mad, Gorak flew back into sight, circling above their heads before rising up into the trees. Khalid took that to mean they were close to the village, and immediately began to invoke his magic. Finishing his first spell, he allowed the magick to flow inward and breathed a sigh of relief as his feet rose several inches off the ground. Turning to Azarek, a flicker of movement caught his eye through the trees. Hastily launching into another spell, garbled Orcish, much closer than before, echoed around them.
While Khalid was casting, Shayla closed her eyes and muttered a word of command. The jet black feathers of her cloak began squirm and writhe, flowing across her body. Bowing her head, she seemed to almost collapse in upon herself beneath the drape. Vanishing, in her place, a raven rested on the ground. Flexing her wings, she flew into the trees, following Gorak.
Arcane words rolling together into an unending stream, Khalid touched Azarek on the shoulder, and with a grin he shot upwards over their head. Without stopping for breath, Khalid spat out the words to a final spell, reaching down to touch Geoff on the head as he willed himself into the air. Needing no instruction, Geoff followed as Orcs poured into the small clearing below, howling in anger at their fleeing prey.
Above the tree tops, Khalid could barely make out the village clearing. Gorak and Shayla were already some distance ahead, with Azarek trailing them. Propelling himself forward with the full force of his magic, he sailed through the air, red robes flapping in the wind. Covering the miles quickly, through the occasional gap in the foliage below, he could see Orcs heading north, converging on the village. Minutes later, houses came into view and they passed over the tree line. To Khalid's dismay, beneath them the Orcish horde surged towards the village. Even at his current height, Khalid could pick out distinct tribes among mob. Some were almost naked, wearing little more than loincloths, their bodies and faces covered in warpaint. Others ran beneath a banner of a clenched fist rising from a black sun, their spears festooned with shrivelled human heads.
Distracted by the scene beneath his feet, Khalid recognized his peril only an instant before it was too late. Willing himself straight up into the air, a swarm of arrows fired from the town passed just below him to fall among the Orcs. A dozen or more tumbled to the ground, but their losses were barely a ripple in the tide that swelled from the trees. They quickly reached the first houses and he could see how desperate the situation was. Orcs were swarming through the streets and alleys and the outer defenders were already hard pressed. As they flew over a fierce battle raging in one of the side streets, it was clear the townsfolk wouldn't be able to hold and several were already turning to flee. Gorak banked hard and circled back. A bolt of lightning flashed down from the hazy sky, directly in the centre of the ravaging Orcs. The unfortunate recipient of the blast was completely obliterated while those around him reeled away dazed, buying a few precious seconds for the villagers to retreat.
From rooftops across the town, archers fired into the Orcish mob. When the Orcs swarmed forward, climbing up walls and gaining the rooftops, the archers retreated back across wooden planks, pulling them along behind to prevent attackers from using them. In close quarters, the short bow the villagers favoured was quick and deadly, but Khalid saw more than one group cut off and swarmed. Knowing he could do little to save them without weakening himself, Khalid gritted his teeth and flew on, saving his energy for when it would be most useful. Picking out the command post on top of the barracks, he headed straight for it. Passed the immediate threat of arrows, he allowed himself to descend, picking up speed in the process. Behind him, a another crack of thunder split the air, but Khalid didn't even bother to look. The square around the barracks swarmed with defenders. Villagers armed with spears and swords manned makeshift palisades blocking the roads leading in. In the centre a dozen archers with arrows in hand stood ready. Khalid could see Erik standing on the roof of the barracks, surrounded by several other rangers.
As Khalid touched down on the roof, a second behind Azarek, the ranger in the watchtower called out, “They're through Miller’s crossing!” Almost as one, the archers raised their bows and began to fire, arcing their arrows high into the air. Although they couldn't see their targets, they knew their village and they had the range. Moments later, Geoff landed and Shayla swooped in and reverted to her normal form beside them. Gorak continued to circle high overhead for a minute longer, calling down another blinding flash of lightning on some unsuspecting Orc. With a final screech, he tucked in his wings and dropped from the sky, pulling up and shifting an instant before he hit the roof. The screech turned into a stream of curses as he shifted form.
“Ya find the bastard leading this rabble?” Azarek rasped over the noise around them.
“No!” Gorak growled. “That son of a whore is hiding among the peons.”
“Erik! Erik!” A villager shouted, as he clambered over one of the barricades. The soldiers manning it reached over and pulled him across. Blood streamed down his face from a cut on his scalp and his hand was pressed tightly against a garish wound that had cut through the leather armour over his ribs. He staggered over to the barracks, barely able to stand. “They're breaking through in the west! The outer defences are gone and we're being driven back.”
Erik cursed. “Too fast.” He shook his head in disbelief. “They're pushing us back too fast. We need to hold them!” He turned to issue an order, when the ranger called down from the watch tower. “The South is overrun! They're through on all sides.” For a second, Erik said nothing, then he turned to Geoff. “You trust them with our most sacred charge?” Geoff simply nodded. “And they're that good?” he pressed.
Gorak, a sneer on his face was about to reply, when he caught sight of a pair of Orcs forcing their way into the square through a narrow alley. With a flick of his hand, a bolt of lightning streaked down an electrocuted the one in the lead, who dropped to the ground, twitching. Before the archers could react, another bolt flashed down and the second Orc simply exploded, spraying blood and gore over the stunned defenders.
“How much more proof you gonna need?” he growled, with a evil grin.
“They're our best hope, Erik,” Geoff added.
Erik, chewing on his lower lip, seemed momentarily torn with indecision. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, and when he opened them, all the anger and frustration was gone, replaced with a calm resignation. “Get them below. Now!” he barked.
Nodding, Geoff stepped off the roof and floated the to the ground. “Follow me!” Gorak and Shayla dropped down into the street, while Azarek and Khalid, using the fading power of Khalid's spell, flew after him towards a nondescript house on the edge of the square. The sounds of combat surged down the street, a deafening riot of ringing steel and screams of rage and anger.
Erik gestured into the centre of the square and the rangers on the roof began dropping down into the street. The last to descend, Erik drew his longsword as he landed, advancing to the south.
“For your village!” he called out in a huge voice that carried across the square, above the noise. “For the Green!” he roared, pulling out a wicked hatchet with his other hand. The archers dropped their bows in the street, and began drawing swords. “FOR ILSADORA!” The rangers charged forward, directly at the huge surge of Orcs that crashed into southern defences of the plaza, like a force of nature.
Khalid had defended the ramparts of Knolton and stood on the walls of Caer Morag, but he had never been this close to a full on battle. In those few seconds while the ran across the square, Khalid witnessed heroism and savagery he could have barely conceived. Savage Orcs, inflamed with religious fervour attacked relentlessly. Villagers, defending hearth and home, battled back with desperation.
Reaching the building, Geoff hammered on the door with the butt of his sword. “It's Geoff! Open the door!” An instant later, a bolt drew back and the door opened. Stumbling inside, Khalid was surprised how small the interior of the building was. The walls were twice as thick as any of the other buildings, and the door was plated with iron. From the outside the house appeared to have shuttered windows, but within the walls were solid. In the centre of the room, a solid oak table had been overturned and two rangers, with arrows nocked to their bows, stood ready. The ranger that let them in slammed the door behind them and threw the bolt. The sounds of battle vanished, leaving them in a disconcerting silence broken only by the sound of their laboured breathing.
“Erik ordered us below,” Geoff said, moving around the table. The two rangers pulled it aside and reached down, pulling up the floorboards. Beneath the wood, two iron rings were set into a thick slab of stone, and it took both of them to lift it free. A narrow staircase descended into the darkness below. Shayla muttered a few words and lit the area, shining the light down. Geoff led the way, ducking his head to clear the floor, with Khalid tripping on his heels. Azarek, hooking the Dwerro warhammer on his belt, drew his sword and followed, platemail screeching along the narrow walls as he hunched down.
Gorak glanced up and was about to motion for Shayla to go next, when the thick beams along the wall began to creak and groan. In an instant, he knew what was coming. He seized hold of Shayla by the collar of her cloak and hurled her away from the wall, sending her sprawling to the ground. “Get back,” he roared, scrambling backwards, desperately hoping he was far enough away from the centre of the spell. The rangers, surprised by his actions, hesitated for just a moment before following his command. A moment too long for the man standing closest to the southern corner. He gasped and sank to the ground, tearing at his chest. His cheeks sank in, the skin splitting like dry bark as his eyes rolled back into his head. The roof began to sag dangerous while the floorboards shrivelled and cracked. A second later, the corner of the building crumbled into dust and sunlight flooded in.
Words on his lips before the wall even started to fall away, Gorak hurled a spell out the gap, hoping to buy time. Orcs voices, from all around the building shouted and cursed. “Get below!” he roared again. The rangers scrambled for the trap door, practically falling down the staircase in their haste.
Shayla was just getting to her feet, when an Orc stepped into view, slugging through what had become thick mud, almost knee deep. His face was a mass of scars,some fresh, that turned his brown skin, grey. Gold caps adorned his tusks and rich pelts covered shirt of polished steel chain. He was tall for an Orc, stooping slightly to peer into the house, but lanky and lean for his race. In his head hand, held low in front of him, was either a gnarled wooden branch or a mummified foot, twisted and blackened. On one knee, Shayla lunged forward and with a flick of her wrist cast a handful of glittering disks spinning through the air. The first sliced through the Orcs thigh, almost at the hip, the second took him in the arm as he raised it in defence. The third, but for a twitch of the ' neck would have severed the artery in the throat. With a hideous curse, the Orc dodged back behind the safety of the wall. Continuing her motion, she gained her feet in one smooth stride and dropped through the hole.
Gorak leapt forward, following her into the staircase. Twisting around, he had the presence of mind to grab the stone slab and pull it back into place. Flipping closed the iron hooks around the edge, he secured it tightly. Joining Shayla at the bottom, he headed down a narrow hallway, lit only by a single magical fire, burning without fuel in an small iron sconce.
“Stick to the left side,” Geoff called out from somewhere up ahead.
Another few steps and they came to a branch in the tunnel. Following Geoff's instructions, they squeezed past one of the rangers that had been guarding the room upstairs. When they passed, he knelt down and touched a small rock at the base of the wall. It twisted under his grasp, and an audible click echoed down the hall. Twenty steps further the tunnels rejoined and then opened up into a large square room, some forty feet on a side with ceilings almost half that. More of the magical flames burned along the walls, evenly spaced to illuminate the entire area. Scriptures and verse had been inscribed on the wall, interspersed with holy glyphs. Along the far wall, directly opposite the entrance was the source of all the strife above. The statue was almost six feet in length and at least four feet high, carved from a thick, translucent crystal. The bottom half was smooth and square but the top had been chiseled away, forming a crude semblance of a baby orc. It's mouth was open in a scream of pain or rage, tiny hands balled into fists. The carving didn't rest upon the surface, but seemed to be emerging from it. The whole thing was made more disturbing for its sheer size.
“Ah, the room is awash with magic,” Khalid said, dragging his fingers across his eyes and peering around. “But just the glyphs. Not the rock.” He moved to examine the carving more closely. Folding his hands within the sleeves of his robes, he leaned over and studied the statue, careful not to touch it with any part of his body.
“If you lot dragged me down here inta this death trap to die over a piece of stinkin' rock,” Azarek growled. “You'd better hope we wind up on different levels 'a hell.”
A drop of something wet and warm splashed on the back of Khalid's neck and rolled down his throat. Reflexively, he wiped at it with his hand. Pulling it away, he frowned and then glanced up at the ceiling, eyes widening. “Ah, your sacrifice will not be in vain, I think,” Khalid said. The others followed his gaze and looked up. Blood was beginning to ooze through the ceiling, running in rivulets to pool suspended above the statue. As they watched, a single drop congealed and fell.
Straight into the whelp's open mouth.
“Ah, I hope I didn't disturb your sleep,” Khalid whispered hoarsely, knowing that waking the others would lead to the day's grim preparations, something he was too groggy to yet contemplate.
“I don't sleep anymore,” Shayla replied. “Not really. Not since I crossed over.” It was rare for Shayla to bring up what had happened on the road outside Caer Morag, and Khalid was never quite sure how to react. Not knowing what to say, he said nothing. She seemed only half aware of him and continued on without prompting. “ Now I just...sit. Very still. And I don't dream either. I think maybe I'm starting to forget what it was like altogether. Isn't that strange?”
“Ah, yes, I, supposed that would very well be an unusual experience.” Khalid studied her carefully. “But lack of sleep aside, how do you feel?” Before a battle, the old Shayla had practically hummed with energy. A concentration of power that infected her actions, her gestures and even her speech. Now, she seemed calm, almost serene. It was, in an unusual way, distressing.
“Don't worry Khalid. I'll be ready. I feel fine. I feel...strong.” She replied, absently scratching her familiar, Emma under the chin.
“Yes, quite,” Khalid replied somewhat hesitantly, eliciting a long stare from the cat, eerie in its similarity to her master's.
Before he could press the issue, Geoff awoke and stood up. Looking out the portal, he said, “We should get moving. It's going to be light soon.”
Khalid gathered up his things and kicked the heel of Azarek's boot, who awoke with a snort. Grumbling under his breath, Azarek began the tedious process of assembling his heavy plate armour. With Geoff's help, he was ready in a matter of minutes. Settling his helm over his horns, he slung his huge hand and a half sword over his shoulder, and belted the Dwerro war hammer around his waist. With a grunt at Khalid, he indicated his readiness.
Pushing the rope outside, Khalid opened the portal, then quickly stepped back, startled by the sound of drums that flooded into their quiet refuge.
“The Orcs are on the move,” Geoff said. “We have got to get to the village.”
Dropping out into the dim, predawn light, Khalid groaned inwardly. Outside the air was warm and damp, even in the early morning among the shade of the trees. It would not be a pleasant day. They took up the same positions as the night before with Geoff leading a dozen feet ahead and Azarek taking up the rear, every step dogged by the sound of drums.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Erik,” a breathless villager called up from the street below.
Erik broke away from conferring with his lieutenants at the base of the tower on his rooftop command post and walked to the edge. “What is it, Stephen?”
“Arron said to tell you there are Orcs massing to the south. We can see them moving along the tree line.”
“All right. Richard. Markus. Darryl,” he singled out three villagers from a group of men standing guard near the door of the barracks. I want you to run out to the other forward positions and get me a report. Stephen, stay put until the others get back then run the news back out.” Glancing at Gorak, he said, “If your friends don't get here soon, the only way they're gonna help is by digging our graves .”
“Tell me about it,” Gorak growled. “They're caught behind the lines. I'm gonna go try and get them through. I'll be back before the fun starts.” Before Erik could stop him, he stepped off the edge of the roof and flew off to the south.
* * * * * * * * * *
“I've been looking for you for hours,” Gorak growled, shifting back into his Orcish form and dropping to the ground in front of Khalid.
“Whut did you expect? The idea was to stay hidden from Orcs, remember?” Azarek pointed out with a smirk.
“The plan was to help the village,” Gorak growled. “Not wander around the woods for a day and a half.”
“Blame the ranger,” Azarek rasped. “He's such a good tracker he finds Orcs even when he ain't looking for 'em.”
“You're in fine form today,” Shayla remarked caustically.
“Imminent violence always puts me in a good mood,” Azarek replied with wink. “And this time I don't even hafta dangle my cod out in the breeze to get it,” he added with a barking laugh. “Anyhow, the Orcs is thick as flies on shyte in this wee little spot of forest, and so far, we ain't be able to sneak through.”
“Ah, and we are not yet close enough to the village,” Khalid added. “I would not risk, yes, risk the magick unravelling and depositing us in the middle of the Orcish horde.”
“I'll lead you through. Stick close. We're gonna move fast.” Raising his hands over his head, he chanted words of power. In the hazy clouds above, thunder rumbled. “And if we see the son of a bitch that's stirring up this rabble, I'll end this thing right now.”
“Ain't nothing but a whole lotta blood gonna end this now,” Azarek muttered but Gorak was already in the air.
The humidity was a physical thing now, clinging to their skin and clogging their lungs. Khalid had been in fair share of unpleasant situations, but the harrowing run through the woods ranked up there with the worst. All around them were the sounds of the Orcish horde, screaming and chanting to the rhythm of the drums. Gorak, in the form of an owl, flitted from tree to tree, occasionally disappearing from sight to scout ahead. Every so often he would swoop down in front of them, turning their course to avoid Orcs in their path. The constant thunder of drums eliminated the need for silence, so they concentrated on following Gorak with all possible haste. Dripping with sweat, Khalid kept pace easily. Azarek however, unaffected by the heat but burdened by his massive armour, struggled to keep up. Just when he thought he sound of the drums would drive him mad, Gorak flew back into sight, circling above their heads before rising up into the trees. Khalid took that to mean they were close to the village, and immediately began to invoke his magic. Finishing his first spell, he allowed the magick to flow inward and breathed a sigh of relief as his feet rose several inches off the ground. Turning to Azarek, a flicker of movement caught his eye through the trees. Hastily launching into another spell, garbled Orcish, much closer than before, echoed around them.
While Khalid was casting, Shayla closed her eyes and muttered a word of command. The jet black feathers of her cloak began squirm and writhe, flowing across her body. Bowing her head, she seemed to almost collapse in upon herself beneath the drape. Vanishing, in her place, a raven rested on the ground. Flexing her wings, she flew into the trees, following Gorak.
Arcane words rolling together into an unending stream, Khalid touched Azarek on the shoulder, and with a grin he shot upwards over their head. Without stopping for breath, Khalid spat out the words to a final spell, reaching down to touch Geoff on the head as he willed himself into the air. Needing no instruction, Geoff followed as Orcs poured into the small clearing below, howling in anger at their fleeing prey.
Above the tree tops, Khalid could barely make out the village clearing. Gorak and Shayla were already some distance ahead, with Azarek trailing them. Propelling himself forward with the full force of his magic, he sailed through the air, red robes flapping in the wind. Covering the miles quickly, through the occasional gap in the foliage below, he could see Orcs heading north, converging on the village. Minutes later, houses came into view and they passed over the tree line. To Khalid's dismay, beneath them the Orcish horde surged towards the village. Even at his current height, Khalid could pick out distinct tribes among mob. Some were almost naked, wearing little more than loincloths, their bodies and faces covered in warpaint. Others ran beneath a banner of a clenched fist rising from a black sun, their spears festooned with shrivelled human heads.
Distracted by the scene beneath his feet, Khalid recognized his peril only an instant before it was too late. Willing himself straight up into the air, a swarm of arrows fired from the town passed just below him to fall among the Orcs. A dozen or more tumbled to the ground, but their losses were barely a ripple in the tide that swelled from the trees. They quickly reached the first houses and he could see how desperate the situation was. Orcs were swarming through the streets and alleys and the outer defenders were already hard pressed. As they flew over a fierce battle raging in one of the side streets, it was clear the townsfolk wouldn't be able to hold and several were already turning to flee. Gorak banked hard and circled back. A bolt of lightning flashed down from the hazy sky, directly in the centre of the ravaging Orcs. The unfortunate recipient of the blast was completely obliterated while those around him reeled away dazed, buying a few precious seconds for the villagers to retreat.
From rooftops across the town, archers fired into the Orcish mob. When the Orcs swarmed forward, climbing up walls and gaining the rooftops, the archers retreated back across wooden planks, pulling them along behind to prevent attackers from using them. In close quarters, the short bow the villagers favoured was quick and deadly, but Khalid saw more than one group cut off and swarmed. Knowing he could do little to save them without weakening himself, Khalid gritted his teeth and flew on, saving his energy for when it would be most useful. Picking out the command post on top of the barracks, he headed straight for it. Passed the immediate threat of arrows, he allowed himself to descend, picking up speed in the process. Behind him, a another crack of thunder split the air, but Khalid didn't even bother to look. The square around the barracks swarmed with defenders. Villagers armed with spears and swords manned makeshift palisades blocking the roads leading in. In the centre a dozen archers with arrows in hand stood ready. Khalid could see Erik standing on the roof of the barracks, surrounded by several other rangers.
As Khalid touched down on the roof, a second behind Azarek, the ranger in the watchtower called out, “They're through Miller’s crossing!” Almost as one, the archers raised their bows and began to fire, arcing their arrows high into the air. Although they couldn't see their targets, they knew their village and they had the range. Moments later, Geoff landed and Shayla swooped in and reverted to her normal form beside them. Gorak continued to circle high overhead for a minute longer, calling down another blinding flash of lightning on some unsuspecting Orc. With a final screech, he tucked in his wings and dropped from the sky, pulling up and shifting an instant before he hit the roof. The screech turned into a stream of curses as he shifted form.
“Ya find the bastard leading this rabble?” Azarek rasped over the noise around them.
“No!” Gorak growled. “That son of a whore is hiding among the peons.”
“Erik! Erik!” A villager shouted, as he clambered over one of the barricades. The soldiers manning it reached over and pulled him across. Blood streamed down his face from a cut on his scalp and his hand was pressed tightly against a garish wound that had cut through the leather armour over his ribs. He staggered over to the barracks, barely able to stand. “They're breaking through in the west! The outer defences are gone and we're being driven back.”
Erik cursed. “Too fast.” He shook his head in disbelief. “They're pushing us back too fast. We need to hold them!” He turned to issue an order, when the ranger called down from the watch tower. “The South is overrun! They're through on all sides.” For a second, Erik said nothing, then he turned to Geoff. “You trust them with our most sacred charge?” Geoff simply nodded. “And they're that good?” he pressed.
Gorak, a sneer on his face was about to reply, when he caught sight of a pair of Orcs forcing their way into the square through a narrow alley. With a flick of his hand, a bolt of lightning streaked down an electrocuted the one in the lead, who dropped to the ground, twitching. Before the archers could react, another bolt flashed down and the second Orc simply exploded, spraying blood and gore over the stunned defenders.
“How much more proof you gonna need?” he growled, with a evil grin.
“They're our best hope, Erik,” Geoff added.
Erik, chewing on his lower lip, seemed momentarily torn with indecision. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, and when he opened them, all the anger and frustration was gone, replaced with a calm resignation. “Get them below. Now!” he barked.
Nodding, Geoff stepped off the roof and floated the to the ground. “Follow me!” Gorak and Shayla dropped down into the street, while Azarek and Khalid, using the fading power of Khalid's spell, flew after him towards a nondescript house on the edge of the square. The sounds of combat surged down the street, a deafening riot of ringing steel and screams of rage and anger.
Erik gestured into the centre of the square and the rangers on the roof began dropping down into the street. The last to descend, Erik drew his longsword as he landed, advancing to the south.
“For your village!” he called out in a huge voice that carried across the square, above the noise. “For the Green!” he roared, pulling out a wicked hatchet with his other hand. The archers dropped their bows in the street, and began drawing swords. “FOR ILSADORA!” The rangers charged forward, directly at the huge surge of Orcs that crashed into southern defences of the plaza, like a force of nature.
Khalid had defended the ramparts of Knolton and stood on the walls of Caer Morag, but he had never been this close to a full on battle. In those few seconds while the ran across the square, Khalid witnessed heroism and savagery he could have barely conceived. Savage Orcs, inflamed with religious fervour attacked relentlessly. Villagers, defending hearth and home, battled back with desperation.
Reaching the building, Geoff hammered on the door with the butt of his sword. “It's Geoff! Open the door!” An instant later, a bolt drew back and the door opened. Stumbling inside, Khalid was surprised how small the interior of the building was. The walls were twice as thick as any of the other buildings, and the door was plated with iron. From the outside the house appeared to have shuttered windows, but within the walls were solid. In the centre of the room, a solid oak table had been overturned and two rangers, with arrows nocked to their bows, stood ready. The ranger that let them in slammed the door behind them and threw the bolt. The sounds of battle vanished, leaving them in a disconcerting silence broken only by the sound of their laboured breathing.
“Erik ordered us below,” Geoff said, moving around the table. The two rangers pulled it aside and reached down, pulling up the floorboards. Beneath the wood, two iron rings were set into a thick slab of stone, and it took both of them to lift it free. A narrow staircase descended into the darkness below. Shayla muttered a few words and lit the area, shining the light down. Geoff led the way, ducking his head to clear the floor, with Khalid tripping on his heels. Azarek, hooking the Dwerro warhammer on his belt, drew his sword and followed, platemail screeching along the narrow walls as he hunched down.
Gorak glanced up and was about to motion for Shayla to go next, when the thick beams along the wall began to creak and groan. In an instant, he knew what was coming. He seized hold of Shayla by the collar of her cloak and hurled her away from the wall, sending her sprawling to the ground. “Get back,” he roared, scrambling backwards, desperately hoping he was far enough away from the centre of the spell. The rangers, surprised by his actions, hesitated for just a moment before following his command. A moment too long for the man standing closest to the southern corner. He gasped and sank to the ground, tearing at his chest. His cheeks sank in, the skin splitting like dry bark as his eyes rolled back into his head. The roof began to sag dangerous while the floorboards shrivelled and cracked. A second later, the corner of the building crumbled into dust and sunlight flooded in.
Words on his lips before the wall even started to fall away, Gorak hurled a spell out the gap, hoping to buy time. Orcs voices, from all around the building shouted and cursed. “Get below!” he roared again. The rangers scrambled for the trap door, practically falling down the staircase in their haste.
Shayla was just getting to her feet, when an Orc stepped into view, slugging through what had become thick mud, almost knee deep. His face was a mass of scars,some fresh, that turned his brown skin, grey. Gold caps adorned his tusks and rich pelts covered shirt of polished steel chain. He was tall for an Orc, stooping slightly to peer into the house, but lanky and lean for his race. In his head hand, held low in front of him, was either a gnarled wooden branch or a mummified foot, twisted and blackened. On one knee, Shayla lunged forward and with a flick of her wrist cast a handful of glittering disks spinning through the air. The first sliced through the Orcs thigh, almost at the hip, the second took him in the arm as he raised it in defence. The third, but for a twitch of the ' neck would have severed the artery in the throat. With a hideous curse, the Orc dodged back behind the safety of the wall. Continuing her motion, she gained her feet in one smooth stride and dropped through the hole.
Gorak leapt forward, following her into the staircase. Twisting around, he had the presence of mind to grab the stone slab and pull it back into place. Flipping closed the iron hooks around the edge, he secured it tightly. Joining Shayla at the bottom, he headed down a narrow hallway, lit only by a single magical fire, burning without fuel in an small iron sconce.
“Stick to the left side,” Geoff called out from somewhere up ahead.
Another few steps and they came to a branch in the tunnel. Following Geoff's instructions, they squeezed past one of the rangers that had been guarding the room upstairs. When they passed, he knelt down and touched a small rock at the base of the wall. It twisted under his grasp, and an audible click echoed down the hall. Twenty steps further the tunnels rejoined and then opened up into a large square room, some forty feet on a side with ceilings almost half that. More of the magical flames burned along the walls, evenly spaced to illuminate the entire area. Scriptures and verse had been inscribed on the wall, interspersed with holy glyphs. Along the far wall, directly opposite the entrance was the source of all the strife above. The statue was almost six feet in length and at least four feet high, carved from a thick, translucent crystal. The bottom half was smooth and square but the top had been chiseled away, forming a crude semblance of a baby orc. It's mouth was open in a scream of pain or rage, tiny hands balled into fists. The carving didn't rest upon the surface, but seemed to be emerging from it. The whole thing was made more disturbing for its sheer size.
“Ah, the room is awash with magic,” Khalid said, dragging his fingers across his eyes and peering around. “But just the glyphs. Not the rock.” He moved to examine the carving more closely. Folding his hands within the sleeves of his robes, he leaned over and studied the statue, careful not to touch it with any part of his body.
“If you lot dragged me down here inta this death trap to die over a piece of stinkin' rock,” Azarek growled. “You'd better hope we wind up on different levels 'a hell.”
A drop of something wet and warm splashed on the back of Khalid's neck and rolled down his throat. Reflexively, he wiped at it with his hand. Pulling it away, he frowned and then glanced up at the ceiling, eyes widening. “Ah, your sacrifice will not be in vain, I think,” Khalid said. The others followed his gaze and looked up. Blood was beginning to ooze through the ceiling, running in rivulets to pool suspended above the statue. As they watched, a single drop congealed and fell.
Straight into the whelp's open mouth.
Last edited:
TaranTheWanderer
Legend
bump. Anyone else?
