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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Paka" data-source="post: 1048910" data-attributes="member: 100">The Ballad of Karhoun EsbenStory Post # 25Shadow’s InsurgentsKahan, the Oruk Warchief, waited until his warbandmoved a league or more away before he spoke me,Valanicia and the slaves.  He was an eloquent liar, “Iam a member of a secret society, the Order of theWhite Hand.  We are a group of Oruk and Orcs who arefighting Izrador in any way we can from within theShadow’s armies.I have purchased you all from slavery in order tobring misery to the princeling in charge of Bastion. This district is the breadbasket of Eredane.  Thegruel eaten by Orcs from the Kaladrun to the Erethorand beyond is grown here, in these lands.Sameal is a vile man, a southerner with no respect forlife.  He burned a Dryad’s tree to the ground lessthan a year ago and must be made to pay for hiscruelty.  I have brought you all together, under theleadership of these insurgent captains, Karhoun andValanicia, to bring the grain export of Bastion to agrinding halt.“There is a broken, abandoned tower less than a leaguefrom here due east.  Roost there and make your plansfor the fall’s harvest.  Destroy fields and grainsilos when you can.  When you can pirate grain, do so. I will send word on where to cache the stolen grainfor our use.“Your work will feed insurgents all over Eredane andstarve the Shadow’s soldiers.  It is a dangerous lifebut Steel Hill is your alternative.  To run is to behunted and killed by Karhoun, an expert tracker.“Good luck.”With that, Kahan and his honor guard made their way tothe departing warband of Oruk and Val and I were leftto look over our party of insurgents.  They were allhungry and dirty.  While their situation hadinfinitely more hope than a life in the mines of SteelHill, under an Ogre slavemaster’s lash, they stillwere looking ahead at a life of considerable dangerand risk.The first slave to catch my eye looked like nothingmore than a beggar, raggedy sack covered his chest anda sack crudely sewed together made a kind of longkilt.  He seemed to be made of nothing but sinew andbone with a rough beard hiding his age.Another was a Halfling, obviously bred into slaverybecause he appeared scared of his own shadow.  Hisfine clothes were covered in filth from his trip. Life as a slave under Goblins hadn’t been easy on him.The third looked like nothing more than a little girl,white blonde hair dirty from her travels with theGoblin slavers.  She had no ears and an odd shape toher pale blue eyes; I took her for what she was, aSnow Elf.The last was a squat monster with Orcish tusks.  HisOrcish heritage dominated his features but there was atouch of something else there too, probably Dwarf.I announced, “Let’s make way to the tower Kahanmentioned.  We have to be quiet.  If anyone sees orhears us we are dead.”  At that I took out some foodand distributed it evenly.  They ate it quickly,desperately.  The Halfling nearly choked on the rabbitjerky and after a few steps on the trail, he vomitedexplosively.“Eat slower next time.  We don’t have the food towaste.”The Halfling gave a guilty look while wiping the spewfrom his chin.The tower was overgrown with ivy and seemed to listsouthward.  Where once there was a doorway was only abroken wall, as if a Giant had ripped out the door bytaking down the entire wall.  I noticed a tree withodd markings, almost like a bear’s claw marks butthere was a difference.The Snow Elf girl spoke in nearly a whisper, “Owlbearmarkings.”I eyed the clawed tree, trying to make foxes or snakesof it.  “What is an Owlbear?” I asked, “Can it fly?”She answered slowly, “Izrador’s breeding pits are fondof creating creatures like this, mixtures of the mostvile elements of nature’s work slapped together.  TheOwlbears are a failed experiment let loose into theworld.  Now they roam like a natural creature mightroam, finding their place where they may.“No, it can’t fly.”“Well, you know your way around the forest…this isprobably a good time to ask, what are your names, whatcan you all do?” I asked.The beggar-looking man answered, “I am Ellis, only ahumble beggar but I am passing fair with my hands.”“Do you want a sword?” I asked.“I am better with only my fists,” he explained. The Halfling spoke quickly, nervous, “I was aseneschal for a Legate.  She taught me…” he hesitated,looking around but said in a whisper, “…taught me toread.  She died only a few months ago and I don’tknow-““You were a seneschal for a Legate?” I asked.He nodded.“Which Legate?”His eyes grew with fear at saying his late master’sname, “Her name was Calsa.”It wasn’t a name I recognized.  I pointed a Valanicia,“You are her seneschal now.  Understand?”He seemed more at ease to be in service to a mistressagain and bowed, “M’lady, I am Tomene, at yourservice.  If there is any way I can help you, pleaselet me know.”Val nodded at the Halfling silently.The Dworg, Half Orc/Half Dwarf, grunted,“Squud…rrrrg,” he took a thick tree branch and swingit downwards, grinning.“Squud, if you prove yourself worthy, you’ll getthis,” and I pointed at the Vardatch that the Oruk hadbeen kind enough to allow me to keep, when theyreturned my gear.  I asked, “How did you end up here,Squud?”“I good Orc but after manhood they say some Dwarf inblood too and so I send slavery instead of what I do,”Squud explained in that special Squud way.I didn’t need to ask the Snow Elf her story or how shemight be of use.  The Snow Elve’s ability to kill Orcwas legend all throughout the Northlands.  Shewhispered her name, “Hishaya,” and it was all of theexplanation I needed.The Elf and I approached the tower, now an Owlbear’snest, soon to be the quarters of Sameal’s downfall. She was as quiet as a ghost.  We approached the brokenopening of the tower and I noticed her hands, moving,as if by habit.  She was signaling in Patrol Sign, theSnow Elf hand language.  It was the language my mutebrother, Durgen had altered so he could speak aftercutting out his own tongue.She realized I noticed her hands and signaled to me. I signaled the only three words Durgen ever had timeto teach me: Father, Orc, Friend.She smiled, holding her long sharpened stick forwardas if it were a true spear.  We stuck our heads overstone rubble and peaked in.  The Owlbear was sleeping,a mass of fur and feathers.  All around it were youngones, baby, Owlcubs. Not sure if they laired in mated pairs or not,clumsily signaled for us to return.  That was when anOwlcub awoke.  Its cry must have been heard throughoutthe district.  The mother wasn’t far behind.It came upon us in a fury of feathers, fur, claw andbeak.  It had the stature of a bear but the eyes of anowl, its claws were strange talons and its featheredfur was a mottled grey.  The mother Owlbear shriekedand attacked while her children ran amok in her den.The creature was groggy and the sunlight disorientedit.  In the end it only bit Ellis once in theshoulder, not a terrible wound.  After the Elf and Itendered it up a bit Valanicia delivered the killingblow.   Squud broke his tree branch on the creature’sskull.  Ellis raked the creatures eyes, blinding itwhile his shoulder still bled.  Val flanked the creature once we drove it back intothe tower and put her good northern broadsword intothe Owlbear’s heart.Tomene had thrown rocks at it from a distance but hisstone throwing needed considerable work.  Heapproached Valanicia after the battle and flatteredher, “M’lady that was an artful finishing blow,indeed.”Val nodded, cleaning gore from her blade.  While therest of us searched the tower and stuck the Owlcubsinto a long forgotten pantry, Valanicia cut down atattered remnant of a tapestry and put the cloth overher shield.  Wisely, she hid our Esben familyheritage.  None of the ragged band are Dornish butstill, best to be sure.Broken stairs led up to the roof.  The tower was asquat stone structure with only one floor and aparapet roof.  We discussed the possibility oftraining the Owcubs but none of us have any knack forit.  The mother will give us meat and clothing forsome time.While I dressed it, Hishaya found good wood for bowsand arrows.I presented my Vardatch to Squud for his excellentprowess in battle.  I thought about our objectives, what we would need todo to stay alive.  I thought about when Kahan, the Oruk captain wantedproof of my usefulness.  I could think of two items ofproof: a Dryad’s leaf and a Manticore’s claw kept in akerchief under my armor.This would be home for a while.  For now home is amonginsurgents.  For now home is a lonely tower in theBastion District.  It felt good to be home. I found an Oak tree and sent a missive on its path,the message traveled a way only Dryads and theirservants know.  After sending a letter written on anoak leaf, I returned to my new home where we dined onOwlbear stew.</blockquote>

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