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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Tokiwong" data-source="post: 1106895" data-attributes="member: 961">The TraitorSemmarin stumbled through the darkness, alone and cold.  His body ached, from death, and his second breath.  A chill wind passed over him, as the tower came into view, he approached the door and knocked gently, and waited.  There was a long silence, before the door opened, and Borca greeted Semmarin with his warhammer in hand, but the look of shock on his eyes, spoke volumes as Semmarin stumbled past.  Two miracles in one night, but the damage to the morale had been done.Semmarin slumped against the wall, his whole body aching.  Despite his pain he could feel the tension in the room.  Borca took his seat next to Malstrom as Dae stood, scouring the room with his cold, angry eyes.  Tuk sat quietly reflecting on the day, and what had been lost, he sighed in defeat.  Corine glanced down to the halfling; she turned her gaze back to Vykos.  Vykos sat at the table his mind thinking, a sardonic smile on his face.Dae finally broke the silence, “We were tricked.”Vykos turned to Dae and nodded, “We were baited.  It was a dangerous game they played, we fell for their trap.  An interesting predicament, to be sure.”Borca scowled, “It was treachery, plain and simple.”Corine nodded, “We can’t go pointing fingers, Borca.”Dae nodded, but his mind was already boiling with the possibilities.  He had his suspicions; they burned through his mind like a raging inferno.  He knew whom he could trust, and whom he could not trust.Don’t trust the woman, she means to betray you.Dae glanced around the room, for a moment.  It was a whisper in a voice he did not recognize but very much understood.  For some reason he wanted to believe if for no other reason then because it seemed the most plausible.Malstrom glanced to Dae, and then looked to Vykos, “What do we do next?”Vykos replied with his usual casual grin, “We rest of course.  We sleep and dream.  We have faced a bitter defeat this day.  But we have the morrow, we start anew, and do not give up.”*****************************************************The smell of seasoned, and cooked orc flesh, wafted up to Runt’s nose.  The dawn was beginning to set, and the orcs had made camp.  It was a loud affair of eating, shouts, and carousing.  The halfling slaves rushed about trying to keep the orcs fed, and happy, so as to not draw their ire.Runt ate his meal quietly, and glanced to the bandage over his left shoulder, where a Sarcosan blade had bit his flesh.  The wound would heal, and leave a proud scar for the orc scout.  It had been a good night, and Runt had earned twelve new scars, of honest kills.  The One God had favored him on the battlefield and granted him great prowess to destroy the heathens that threatened his blessed order.Runt turned and saw the Priest Mother, standing watching her faithful feast, and celebrate the victory.  She was slim for an orc, but impressively muscled.  She had a mane of black hair that blew in the wind, and her tusks were sharp and powerful.  Her face was angular, framing her red eyes, almost perfectly.  She was a beauty among her kind, and Runt admired her, it would be an honor to earn the right to be her consort, and father her children.  She would give him strong kin, and Izrador would bless them for greatness.Sitting near her was his chieftain, Garnak.  One of the most powerful orcs Runt had ever met, and if he did not mistake it, quite crafty.  He had peculiar habits, his armor was immaculate, and he kept himself well groomed, and spoke with words that most orcs would find useless or perhaps too flowery.  But his prowess on the field of battle was well known, he wore many scars from his kills, and he was a good strong leader. Although Runt saw that unlike other males, Garnak approached the females as if he was their equal, it was nearly heresy, and he wondered just how long the Priest Mother’s would stand such insolence.Runt instinctively drew his kukri and held it close to hand trying to snatch some of his meat.  It belonged to a burly orc with a large gut.  His eyes were a milky red, and he was missing his left tusk.  The larger orc sneered, “You too small Runt, let me have this, I am bigger, give it to me little one.”Runt narrowed his eyes, “I will have my fill, Utha, now take your hand from my food, or your hand will join my meal.”Utha slowly recoiled his hand, and then looked to the other orcs, many of them watching the larger orc defer to Runt.  Utha stood and puffed out his chest, “Give me your meat, Runt, or I kill you.”Runt stood and growled, “You must try first,” as he looked up, he stood nearly a head shorter then Utha, but his frame was muscled and wiry.  Many of the orcs stood, and formed a circle around the two, watching with great interest.  Vuna walked towards the circle, interested to see what the males were gawking at.Utha growled bearing his yellowed teeth, and drew a dagger; the blade was sharp, although crudely made.  Runt drew his kukri, the blade was equally sharp, but had been crafted in a dwarven forge.  Runt had killed the dwarf with a dagger similar to Utha’s.Utha slowly began to circle Runt, and Runt followed suit, the two staring at each other with hate.  Utha growled, and lunged forward, letting out a powerful roar.  Runt though was ready, and brought his kukri up under his forearm, he rolled to the side, and let the blade slash at Utha’s thigh drawing a line of black blood along his furry leg.  Runt rolled, and came up in a low, crouch, as Utha turned quickly, he simply chuckled at the slash.“You are weak Runt, you is too small to be proper orc, you will have no mate little one.  I will enjoy eating your flesh, weakling,” Utha grinned.Runt narrowed his eyes; he kept his distance from Utha, and weighed his options.  Utha was stronger, but Runt knew he was quicker.  Utha may have been laughing but he knew that Utha was hurt, but Runt realized that his shoulder still ached from the ambush.  All things considered, he figured he had an even chance of winning the fight, and with the larger orcs need for bluster; probably better then that.Utha tried to intimidate Runt by using his own dagger to carve a scar across his chest and show just how little pain he actually felt, as blood dribbled from the self-inflicted wound.  Runt just watched, realizing that Utha may be tougher then he had earlier realized.Utha stalked forward, as Runt waited crouched.  Utha tried to stab downward with his blade.  Runt rolled to the side, coming to his feet and ready.  He stayed on the defensive, parrying and dodging.  Utha became frustrated, and swung wide; Runt ducked and stabbed his kukri deep into Utha’s side, piercing vitals, and then pulled the blade out with a spray of black blood and sliced flesh.Runt spun with his slash, moving away from Utha, as the large orc clutches at his injury.  Somehow the fat orc was still standing, malice and rage burning in his pale red eyes.  He rushed forward, taking Runt by surprise and tackled the smaller orc.  The larger orc let out a roar as they fell back.  Runt landed hard on his back, and the larger orc fell on top of him.  Luckily Runt placed his blade between himself and Utha, and the blade bit deep into the larger orc’s belly.  Runt could feel warm blood; he struggled to get the larger orc off him.  He struggled free, and realized that his shoulder wound was bleeding, once more.  He winced from the pain, as he stood, his kukri black with blood and regarded his peers.Runt added another scar to his good shoulder.Vuna was impressed and moved forward.  Runt blinked as he saw the Priest Mother approach and bowed his head, in deference.  The gathered orcs did not dare to look directly at the blessed Priest Mother.  Vuna whispered a word of prayer to the One God, and her hands took on a sickening red glow, she placed it on Runt’s shoulder, and their was the sound of burning flesh as the wound cauterized and sealed, leaving another scar on the orc’s flesh.Runt felt a brief wash of pain, and then there was nothing.  He glanced to his shoulder, the bandage was gone, and only a scar remained from the wound he had received.  The Priest Mother had given him a blessing, and healed his wounds.  She turned from Runt, and moved back to where she was seated, without a word.  Runt stood motionless, and then glanced around, seeing looks of jealousy on many eyes, but none dared act on it, after glancing to Utha.  The tribe would feast well that night.***************************************************The Corruption…Dae slept that night, and he dreamed…Dae laid on the soft snow, and felt a burning in his mind as the alien whisper continued to speak to him in a hushed tone, as if it feared discovery, "She knows you know.  She is already plotting against you, she will be the death of you."Dae sat up, and spotted a flickering figure amidst the soft snow fall, a maiden dressed in a soft blue and white gown, her skin, was warm to the touch as she knelt next to him, and wrapped an arm around him to help him sit up.  She was beautiful and yet a being of awe, as she continued to speak, "Do not fret, and do not know fear for there is one among you that can help you, the dwarf, Borca, knows of her treachery."  She smiled softly, bearing perfect white teeth, at her hip Dae noticed the slender shortsword that Borca always carried, the hilt was covered in smooth leather, and the bottom of the hilt sported a black gem of some type, a swirling black of mystery.The woman kissed his forehead, and then retreated into the mists, as she continued to speak, still only a soft whisper, "She knows..."Dae then awoke in a cold sweat...The GuideThe young elfling, Semmarin was troubled… Sleeping was easy; his body had been broken, bruised, and even dead, only to breath a second breath on a field of death.  The whisper of the trees, whispered danger to his heart, the animals of the woods, shout cries against the encroaching darkness.  The world itself was dying, every day, and he could feel the pain right in the very fiber of his soul.  Semmarin was not even sure if he was sleeping anymore but he saw the world far below, and felt the wind on his face.  The sky was dark, contrasting with the large white feathers beneath him, as he sat atop a massive dove; it glided amidst the darkness, the wind growing bitter and cold.  Yet the dove remained strong and warm.Below Semmarin could see a great army amassing, the dove swooped down closer to the frozen earth, and the horde shouted, as arrows flew, but the dove pressed ever onward, amidst the swarm of arrows and javelins, still pressing on further North, into the eye of the encroaching storm.  It was only then when he noticed the blood on his hands, the Dove was bleeding, and it crashed to the earth, in a heap throwing the elfling onto the icy ground, nearly shattering his bones, but he lived still.The Dove looked up, "You must not lose hope, that is all we have against the Shadow, hope and the will to fight on against evil.  Not just the evils of man, not just the evils of darkness, but pure evil, in a form so heinous, that it corrupts the very earth itself," the Dove stood, its wing broken, but still it would not give up, "There can be no good in this world, if we lose hope.  Believe in me, but more importantly believe in you.  You will have to make the choice between what is right, and what is wrong, the group is splintering, and you will suffer further tragedy, by your own hands."The Dove stepped forward, hobbling as it spoke, "You must know trust, and you must know who to trust."At that moment Semmarin woke up to the smell of Tuk's cooking...The PastThat same voice in the woods, and on the battle field, that same look in the orc's eyes, perhaps it was just a fleeting memory, as Malstrom slept, the pain of his wounds still burning all across the dworg’s body though subsided by the care of Valthis, it is still bothersome.  But his sleep was anything but peaceful, as he dreamt of what could have been, what had come to pass, and that, which was often forgotten in the shadows of time.  He could recall early in his travels a small village of miners, or perhaps a better term would have been slaves in the service to a puppet prince of the Shadow.  The village was small and poor, but they had pride, and this pride grew into rebellion.The men enlisted Malstrom’s aid despite your heritage, and he was given a simple weapon, and a wooden shield, as the men descended upon the encampment of the Shadow's forces, only to face the full wrath of the shadow, and the orc forces that had been itching to taste of man-flesh.  It was a slaughter, and the young chieftain of the orcs, smashed the rebellion, and showed no mercy for their insurrection.  The men were slain in the fighting, and then placed on pikes, while the women and children were killed in their sleep, and then left to burn as they lit the flames of the fire.But the dworg, they had fun with, he remembered the fun they had, breaking his fingers, scarring his back, for days on end, until they grew tired, and tied the dworg’s arms to a long wooden shaft, and released the wolves on him.   He remembered the orc chieftain's face, the one they called Garnak Mansplitter, Malstrom remembered the intense nature of his reddish gray eyes as he let out the command to let the hunt begin.  But somehow, he survived, he ran for days, until exhaustion, and then beat the two wolves to death once the warrior had managed to remove the wooden pole... the vision was all too intense as he relived it, but he awoke in the bed, to the smell of a halfling breakfast...**************************************************The morning came all too quickly for the insurgents.  The air was still salty with scorn, and distrust.  Vykos seemed to weather it all with a faint sardonic smile, but the meal was hushed, even as Tuk tried to engage in a hearty discussion of the various recipes he had used to create the meal. Vykos spoke as the meal drew to a close, “We need to speak of our future plans.”Malstrom nodded, “Indeed we do, but first my companions and I, need to speak of what we plan to do,” he gestured to Semmarin and Dae.Corine raised a brow, “Why is that?”“We must decide if we wish to stay with this group or press on by ourselves.  We need to evaluate our options,” the dworg replied diplomatically.Vykos nodded, “Then make your decision.”Malstrom nodded, and stood, both Dae and Semmarin following him upstairs.  They closed the trapped door behind them, and sat looking at each other in silence for a moment before Malstrom spoke, “I don’t know if we can trust everyone in our group.”Dae grunted in acknowledgement, “Indeed I only trust those in this room.”“So you think you know who are traitor is?” Semmarin replied in a whisper.“I think it is Corine, I mean how did she survive on her own?” Malstrom replied, “She may be good, but she isn’t that good.”Dae nodded, “I agree, the woman is the most likely traitor.  I had a dream last night that confirmed as much.”“A dream?” Semmarin replied.“Aye,” Dae replied, “A voice told me to not trust the woman, it told me that we could trust Borca though.”Malstrom mulled over the words, “How do we know we can trust the voice?”“I don’t know, but it seems true enough to me, Corine has had the most opportunity,” Dae replied.“Hmm,” Semmarin replied, “I think we should speak to Borca.”“Perhaps we should stay with this group, and alert Borca of our plan,” Malstrom replied.“We may have to kill Corine, if she turns out to be the traitor,” Semmarin replied, “are we prepared to do that?”“I am,” Dae’s voice flat and calm.“Then we are decided, we stay, and Dae you speak to Borca,” Malstrom replied, “when you are both alone.”Semmarin nodded, “I hope we are wrong.”Malstrom nodded, “We must be prepared to do what must be done for the good of the Resistance.  We cannot let betrayal from within defeat us.”The trio agreed, and proceeded downstairs.</blockquote>

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