Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Hjorimir" data-source="post: 1415116" data-attributes="member: 5745">Speaking of pagans...(And thank you, ForceUser.)3 - Two of a kindThe Eastern Expanse, Ondria HighlandsThe orcs had left a string of carcasses in the wake of their movements. The longhaired, red cattle, a mainstay of Eduni life in the highlands, were a precious commodity. The slaughtered livestock had prompted the clansmen into action - not that anyone needed an excuse to kill any orcs that entered the Holdings.Three days and nights Donal, Égun, and Odhrán had been on their trail, pressing hard to catch up with the invading humanoids. From their vantage, lying amongst the tall swaying grasses, upon a hill overlooking the orc encampment in the vale below, they discussed the cruaidh'carraid, or bloodwork, to be done (a time honored tradition of the Rithmílidh* where they planned the intricate strategies of an impending battle).“I’ve got fourteen commons and nine pieces that say I can get to that big, fat one before you, Odhrán,” Égun jeered, pointing out a particularly large and dangerous looking orc.Odhrán scratched around his empty eye socket. “You blither like a sheep, Égun, but I’ll be taking your monies before the sun has set.”“I’m in on that; the kill is mine,” Donal added.“You’re too slow to keep up with the likes of us, old man. Your money is wasted on the ‘usky I’ll be drinkin’ in your honor… tis prolly’ for the best seeing how you really can’t handle your own,” Égun jibed at Donal. “What was the name of that young lass again?” The ribbing was in reference to a rather embarrassing encounter between the older veteran and a wily young whore from Brelethon who had taken him for two gold as she drank him under the table during their last campaign in the city-states.Odhrán guffawed.“Quiet, you idgit!” Donal hissed. “Get low.”The three clansmen settled deep into the grasses as the startled orcs below looked up at the overhanging crest with newfound interest. Égun and Odhrán were choking down their laughter as they struggled to remain silent. Donal sighed and shook his head at the orcs below who, now wary, began to muster. “Okay, so I’m a’ thinking…”The screams of other two brought Donal up short as they leapt from the precipice and descended the slope quickly sliding towards the bottom and the waiting orcs. Donal cursed and started a slower, more controlled slide.Odhrán was the first to reach the bottom and had the privilege to draw first blood (something that was always good for a few bragging rights among his kin). He whipped his sparth** in a wide arc felling the first one with a single, mighty hew and followed through to mark the second a bleeding wound.Unfortunately, on his way down, Égun careened off a hidden rock in the grass that sent him into a flipping, rolling plunge. The violent fall tore his own sparth from his hands (eliciting all manner of profanities between the “oomphs,” “arrghs,” and “uggs”) before finally coming to the bottom where he planted himself before the group of orcs with a resounding thud.An orc seized the moment and lunged forward with a spear, driving it into the flesh of Égun’s shoulder just before an axe (a token of Donal’s campaign in the Hiemalmark some years past for which he was often ridiculed for its small size) came whipping through the air from the hill above lodging itself firmly in the orc’s neck. Odhrán yelped in pain as the wounded orc landed a telling blow with a mace to the side of his right knee with a crack. As he fought on, three more orcs came to their senses and entered the fray. One viciously stabbed at Odhrán, its blade finding the meat of his right arm, starting a nice flow of blood. The other two orcs made powerful overhand attacks against the prone Égun. One of them drew a wicked gash across his back while the other, overextended, slashed harmlessly into the ground.Égun came to his feet and was hit again as the orcs took the opportunity to repeat their assault. Looking at his fresh wounds, he started to scream incoherently at one of the orcs (something about the way its nose hair was too long) and gave himself over to the riastarthe***. The orc’s head tilted slightly to the side, its eyes widening, as it looked upon the screaming highlander. With his hands outstretched, Égun lunged forward. Successfully slipping inside the orc’s guard, he firmly gripped it around the throat and proceeded to squeeze.Odhrán recovered and stumbled back a bit. A swipe of his sparth finished off the orc and marked his next. He smiled through bloodied lips and glared through his one remaining eye.Donal, having finally managed to get all the way down, engaged Égun’s second attacker. A powerful swing of his broadsword sheared off a fleshy chunk of its upper thigh driving the orc to the ground where it wailed in pain.Meanwhile, the ‘fat’ orc watched the battle carefully, looking for the best chance of victory. Not caring about the fate of the other orcs, it wasn’t willing to partake in any unnecessary risks that might get it killed.Sliding quickly to his left, Odhrán evaded the pressing attack of the orc he faced. Nearby, Égun’s victim hopelessly flailed about the barbarian’s head and shoulders trying to escape the death grip.Donal was caught unaware as the maimed orc at his feet thrust a dagger at him in a violent, sideways arc and impaled the blade into the meat of the clansman’s calf. Donal dropped instantly, joining the orc in a heap on the ground.With a sickly pop, Égun felt the windpipe collapse in his hands. He let the gurgling orc slide from his grip to lie upon the ground, kicking and writhing as it struggled for air. He turned to their leader, who waited with a great-axe poised in a loose bobbing stance, a look of confidence on its ugly face. Égun unslung his claimh mhor, a fine steel blade of exceptional quality, and returned the look. The orc’s confidence melted into concern before it turned to flee. Unfortunately, for the orc, the Rithmílidh are notoriously fast and it wasn’t long before it realized that it wasn’t going anywhere without finishing the business at hand.The two of them squared off in an exchange of frenzied blows before once again separating. That exchange left the orc wounded and heaving for its breath and Égun gripping his side in an effort to staunch the blood flowing from a vicious cut. Seeing the deep wound, the orc sensed victory and charged.The clansman had anticipated the rush and whipped his blade around in a quick, curving arc, riving off the left hand of the orc in a single, well-placed stroke. In shock, the orc stood numb trying to figure out what was going on. [Hand on ground. Not where hand should be.] Égun smiled and prepared to deliver the coup de gras.With a thunk, Égun’s smile faded as he considered the fletching protruding from the side of the orc’s head. Donal’s damnable crossbow, this one a souvenir from his embarrassing trip to Brelethon, had killed the orc.“Pay up!” called Donal from ground where he leaned over a dead orc.The three bled and laughed together.***Having sucked the marrow clean, Donal tossed the rib bone into the fire with a flick, sending a spiral of embers whirling into the cool, night air. “It will be slow going back to Athorchel with me and Odhrán limping most of the way.”Odhrán had been busily rummaging through the trove of the slain orcs. “Not much here. We can take the weapons back for the clan, not much else. Just a pack of leaves of all things.”“Leaves?” asked Égun. “Show them here.”“Smells odd,” Odhrán noticed before tossing the small pouch to Égun. Égun took a whiff and wrinkled his nose before shoving the leaves in Donal’s face for him to smell. Waving his hand, Donal brushed Égun back. “Dunno, lad.”“Maybe a druid would know,” Odhrán suggested innocently.Égun sighed, knowing exactly where this was leading. “Odhrán stop.”“She’s your cousin,” Odhrán complained in a tone that was almost accusatory. “Besides, you could just run ahead while Donal and I haul back the find.”Égun shook his head, “’Tis probably nothing anyway. Right, Donal?”The older man simply replied with a shrug of his shoulders, choosing not to comment one way or another.“Damn.”***Tríona had just started her tenure as an Initiate of the 9th Circle in service to the Aromalyan**** giving a sense of purpose in her still-young life. The Tree had bonded with her essence, changing her once auburn hair to the pale white of new snow and her green eyes to deep pools of violet.This startling change in her appearance had caused no end of suspicious rumors amongst her kin about being touched by fey or worse. As a Druid, she held a respected position among the highland clans, where she cared to the needs of the Following. Yet she was always acutely aware of their curious looks and quiet whisperings when she visited their homesteads.Disting, a time of planting new seeds for the coming year, had just passed. The celebration, also a time of sowing seeds of hopes and dreams, was especially poignant for Tríona as she struggled to find her niche in life. The druid, Ruadhán, had comforted her after the metamorphosis. “As the caterpillar transforms into the butterfly, your chrysalis is not a thing to be feared. Embrace evolution, my child. Change is a certainty.” While his analogy had certainly been wise and straight to the point, Tríona continued to be curious about what this change meant for her and the impact it would have. It was near evening as she dreamily stared into a pool of water, the same kind utilized by wiser druids to see things far away, contemplating this very facet of her life. [Ruadhán is right…the Aromalyan knows best.] The face of her cousin, Égun, appeared in the water’s reflective surface.Tríona turned and beamed a smile up at the tall man and laughed. Jumping up to her tiptoes, she embraced him.“Uh, how are you doing, Tríona?” Égun asked. Slightly embarrassed by the open display of affection, he dislodged himself.“Better now,” she replied, and stopped to take a critical look at her cousin. “You’ve gone and got yourself all hurt!” she complained.“Oh, that?” he said looking at the wound in his side. “’Tis nothing really. It will mend in time.”Tríona placed her hand gently along the wound and felt the heat of it. “No, it won’t.” Still young in her role as a druid, she tentatively reached out to her connection with the Tree. Feeling the power of Life course within her, she spoke an ancient rite of healing. Warm, soothing sunlight fell from her hand and closed the wound instantly.Égun jumped back, startled and shaking. “Tríona, you should warn a man!”Tríona stuck her tongue out at him and pouted.“Err, thank you…sorry, I’m just not used to magic,” he explained.She beamed a smile. “Much better and you’re welcome. Now tell me who did that to you.”“You should see the other guy.”“Oh, save it and just tell me what happened.”“I’m trying to,” Égun complained. “You see me, Donal, and Odhrán were hunting down some orcs who had been making a living off our cattle. We came across their hidden camp and ambushed them with, uh, no small amount of good tactics. We dispatched the twelve of them, the conflict ending in a duel between me and their piggish leader.”Tríona stared at him, skepticism written all over her face. “Twelve?” The question was more of an accusation.“Uh-huh,” Égun answered as he scratched his head. “Anyways, there were so many of them all around us, they got in a few lucky shots ‘tis all,” Oblivious, he pressed on. “So I’m standing there staring down the boss and I say…” At that point, Tríona started urging on the description with a roll of the hand indicating he should come to some kind of point. “…well it doesn’t matter now. I found this.” Égun offered her the small bag of leaves Odhrán had discovered.Tríona examined the contents of the pouch with some amount of uncertainty. There was no point in asking Égun what they were; he could hardly discern weeds from grass. Still, she was impressed he had the good sense to come to her. “Remarkable.”“Yu-huh,” he agreed eagerly, not really knowing what was so remarkable. “They sure are special.”Tríona gave him a flat stare.“Right?”“Tell me everything. Try the truth on while you’re at it,” she admonished.“Twelve, I say!”Égun gave a ‘differing perspective’ of the events.***Ruadhán turned the leaves over in his hands. “They’re still alive.”“I felt that too,” Tríona agreed.“Orcs, you say?” the druid asked, seeking confirmation.Tríona bit her lip, “That’s what he told me. I think he’s being honest, though I have serious doubts about their numbers. What do you think it means?”“Honestly, I have no idea,” Ruadhán conceded. “It isn’t native.” He tossed the open bag to the ground and assumed the shape of a wolf. He sniffed the leaves vigorously a few moments and resumed his natural form. “Nope, not native at all.”“What is your council, Ruadhán?” the initiate inquired.“I will take half of these and confer with Clíodhna and see what she has to say, as the Great Druid, she should be made aware. I have heard rumors of troubles within the March about growing orc incursions there. I can’t help but wonder if this might be of some importance in the frontier.” Ruadhán said, thinking out loud, as he studied the foliage. Ruadhán, turning his attention back to Tríona, looking at her intently said, “Maybe you and your cousin could travel to the March and investigate the matter there. A new plant, while seemingly a small thing, could have untold impact on the Balance,” “I’m sure that would be best. Thank you, Ruadhán.”*Rithmílidh (rith-MIL-idth) roughly translates as ‘running warriors’ from the Eduni tongue. They form a rather prestigious mercenary band known for their speed on the field of battle. They are almost entirely comprised of barbarians.**A sparth is a six-foot polearm the Eduni use that has a fifteen-inch curved axe blade that comes to a point that is both good for slashing and thrusting attacks.***Riastarthe is the ‘warp-frenzy’ of Eduni barbarians.****It is probably worth noting for the older D&D crowd here that Initiate of the 9th Circle is for 3rd-level druids. Like the annual rings of a tree, as a druid grows in understanding of nature’s power they become closer to the center of the tree. The Aromalyan is the Tree of Life, the wellspring of all life created by Æhü at the starting of the Second Epoch. It forms the basis of the druidic following.Pronunciation GuideClíodhna, Great Druid (KLEE-u-na)Égun (A-gun)Odhrán (O-rawn)Ruadhán, Druid (ROO-awn)</blockquote>

Verification