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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Paka" data-source="post: 922576" data-attributes="member: 100">Story Post #4Suk's Story (N.P.C.) Suk was called before the War Chief and the Matron of the Mother of Pain tribe. They were stern, covered in the scar-gifts of the tribe’s ritual tortures. The Matron looked into his eyes and spoke, “The Night King put his magicks to you, Suk. The Night King sits at the feast table of Father Night, eats His meat. Yet, you are not a dead Orc. Make us understand.” Suk cleared his throat and began, “I taunted the Little Elf while guarding the tribe’s treasure and his father magicked me while I choked the Princeling. Blood began to pour out of me from unnatural places. I felt Father Night pull me towards the North.” They nodded and the chief grunted, urging him to continue and so he did, “Without asking, the Princeling healed me. I left, not wanting to bring trouble to the tribe by killing one of the Night King’s spawn. Did I do wrong?” The Matron and the War Chief exchanged glances. The Chief spoke, “No, Suk, you are one of my most trusted sons. Matron and I are proud of you. “The Crimson Princeling is a man now and will travel dangerous paths. He has asked the Legates for you to join him, lead his war band. I say you go.” The Matron agreed. Suk gathered his things: one long iron needle, a pair of boots, two daggers, his Vardatch, some scale mail armor and a sharpening stone. They were gathered outside the tower at first light, the Elf, a Northman, a Shadow Legate and his hound along with five Orc and six Goblins of the Burning Mother Tribe. At second glance Suk noticed three others. There was a boy-slave with the Elf’s mark on him and a pack over his shoulders. He took note of a Gnome with no one’s mark on him, eyes looking everywhere, probably pricing everything, Suk thought. The Legate’s Halfling slave was five steps behind his master, eyes properly downcast. Suk looked over the Elf, wondering why he had healed him, why he hadn't let his father's dark magicks finish their bloody work and why the Crimson Prince had gone out of his way to request Suk's presence in this party. The Northman took charge of the Goblin scouts, setting up their marching formation; the human seemed competent to Suk and if he wanted to order Goblins around it mattered not to him. Suk exchanged some harsh words with the Burning Mother Tribe’s appointed leader. The leader, some ratty Orc with a burnt face named The Gabber, wanted to take point. Point was a position of honor at the head of the party, leading attacks. Those who led attacks would get glory and the first choice of the spoils. Suk wasn’t sure if the Legate would assert dominance or not and for now allowed the words to remain only words. The Elf and the Legate discussed how they would address Suk’s problematic presence. They spoke quickly in Elvish and from the Gabber’s face Suk could tell that the crispy fool didn’t speak Elvish. Speaking to the Elf, the Legate said that he would allow the Orcs to figure out leadership for themselves. Instantly Suk held the tip of his dagger in his fingertips and threw it with all of his seven stone weight behind the throw. The Gabber howled as the dagger pierced his shoulder. Bleeding and screaming, Gabber grabbed for the weapon at his hip. His hands would just be on the hilt when his guts were spilled on the ground by Suk’s Vardatch. Suk cleaned the fool’s intestines off his jagged blade and took his victim’s boots and a dagger. He left a kind offering to the other Orcs, a showing of what kind of leader he would be…ruthless and just. Without a word of their dead former leader the other Orc cleaned the rest of the pickings from the body, finally cutting off the feet and the head to bury at the next cross roads. They put oil over the body and lit it aflame. It wasn’t a proper burial pyre but they were on the trail and this brief funeral would have to do. The Elf bent towards the Orc’s corpse with a knife in hand but Suk stopped him, “What are you doing? You didn’t kill him, you are not in his tribe.” The Elf managed to look guilty and explained, “I was going to take a thumb.” Suk thought the Elf must be hungry for fingers after losing one of his own for the magic staff. In Elvish, so the other Orc might not understand, Suk explained, “If you take the thumb it will make my leadership weak.” The Elf put his dagger away. Suk nodded, glad the Elf could reason and didn’t need to be overtly threatened. First blood of the journey spilled still within sight of Theros Obsidia, they set off east. If they marched at a good Orcish pace and met no trouble they could make White Cliff during the day after next. The Northman explained to the Goblins his way of scouting and took the useless green vermin a quarter mile ahead in fear of ambush. Making sure none of the Burning Mother Orcs had their hands near their weapons, Suk proudly took point.</blockquote>

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