Nice one, Eric.
Thank you ^.^ It's only the start of it all too. I'm having fun with it.
Ericnox Shattersoul - Paladin 18/Fighter 2 TR'd! Currently a 14 Fighter! "May the Host have Mercy... Cuz I won't..."
(No weapons in this story, but something to pass the time with.)
As the winter passes, Leothold find himself spending more and more time with the uncharacteristically friendly half-orc. Orrobahk
seems to enjoy the company, and shares tales of his past adventures with the young monk. In his rough Common, Orro relates the story
of how he met the folks he later spent many years adventuring with.
Orrobahk tells of his recent departure from the pirating vessel that had been his home for several
years. Finding himself once again on his own, he travels towards a small town on the Sword
Coast where he has heard of available work.
The small warm room fades away as Orro's story fills Leo's imagination.....
[Fade to memory replay....]
Orro, while traveling north towards Tricaster, slides down a small
ravine only to find himself within 10 feet of a large brown bear
with two semi-mature cubs. Raising up on its' hind legs, Orro can
see that he is outmatched by about four feet and several hundred
pounds. Without the mother there, he might have been able to bluff
the cubs, but the mother believing its' cubs are in danger is
Flight seems the only option. Bounding up the other side of the
ravine, he takes off running east. He crosses a road and seeing a
rock outcropping, he heads for that. Squeezing in between two large
boulders, he slips down into a crevasse, which opens into a small
cave. The sounds of the bear scratching at the rock above tells
him he has time to wait. Something brushes his leg in the dark.
Whatever it is, is low to the ground and looks to have more than
four limbs. Another movement behind him, tells him there are two.
The crevasse is dark, the two creatures are small size, about twice
the size of a raccoon. There are also three heat signatures off to
Orro's right, very small in size.
Swiftly throwing a hard kick at the shape, missing it but ruffling
its fur, the creature starts growling at him. Orro has heard that sound before, 'Badgers'.
Orro draws both daggers and crouches into a defensive posture. One
of the badgers holds ground while the other goes over to the three
The small cave changes to a mix of darkness and color as his infravision kicks
in, and he strikes at the one as it
draws near him. He hits something solid and then winces as he
realizes the creature has grabbed on to his leg with its' teeth. Seeing
only one of the creatures attacking him Orro concentrates on
the one. He takes one dagger and strikes toward his attacker. The
weight of the creature makes him stumble against the walls of the
cave. He sees stars for a second as his head hits the top of the
Clawing and biting his leg at the same time, the badger causes him
extreme pain. He plunges his second dagger solidly into the
creature. The creature stiffens on his blade as its blood runs
out. Orro has to pry the paws of the creature from his leg and
wedges the point of his dagger in the creatures mouth to pull its
teeth from his flesh.
In the corner of the cave, the other badger stands poised, a
growling hiss coming from deep in its throat. Orro feels around in the wound and realizes he has been badly hurt.
He quickly reaches into his pouch and pulls a rag out of it. He
binds his wounds securely. The second badger continues hissing in the corner as Orro
wipes the blade of his one dagger on leg of his breeches.
Mumbling in his native Orcish, "Bahd badger, thuut oot-uruk Orrobahk gug."
Orro eyes the remaining badger, knowing full well that a mom protecting
young would be more than a match for him in his condition. Switching back
to his broken common, he speaks low and soft, "Orro sorry to kill badger,
thought was spider. You stay and Orro not hurt you." '...and Orro not get
his *tush* handed to him' his thought concludes.
As Orro binds his leg and contemplates his situation, a collection of voices and sounds of
battle above tell him that others have met the angry bear and are engaged with it.
As the battle ensues above, Orro continues to eye the badger to make sure
she's not charging. When the battle dies out, Orro listens to hear who has
bested the bear and if it seems wise to call out to them.
The battle lasts only a few minutes, and soon sounds safe so Orro sheathes his dagger, grabs the dead badger
in his off hand and tries to make his way out of the crevasse. He calls as
he moves, "Ahoy the surface, I coming out!"
He hears back from above, "AHOY! Avast ya Swab!" in a loud, friendly
voice. Shrugging to himself at the odd response, but deeming it a good degree more friendly than the
welcome the bear had given him, he crawls the rest of the way out of the cave.
Orro makes his way out and stands blinking while his eyes adjust
back to the light, trying to see those around him. His left hand
stays clenched in the nape-fur of the dead badger, his right shades
The tall human he notices first is looking at him with a crooked smile and holding a shield that looks to have
recently been crumpled into ruin. His stance is not steady as he is still recovering from the ferocious impact his shield bore
the brunt of. Pyramus, as the human would later introduce his name as, had just been dazedly mumbling about the loss of the
church property he carried, and how he was going to be in trouble for the loss.
When Orro appears he blurts out, "****! It's the mother superior! Quick, hide the damned shield!"
Orro immediately looks around behind him, then back at Pyramus quizzically.
"Orro called mother before, but not superior. Superior sounds nicer, thank
you, but I don't know of the shield." Orro lets the half-hearted chuckle
die away, and continues. "You killed bear and let Orro out of badger home.
Thank you. Mother badger still very angry, like bear was."
Nearby, a blood-drenched dwarf is busying himself with hacking at the large bear corpse. having already affixed the large headskin to
his helm, the dwarf was attempting to skin the carcass. The dwarf named Vroom looked up at what was obviously a half-orc.
Orro looks at Vroom's hack job - err, rather, fine job of skinning the
bear - and tucks his badger up closer under his arm. Though he looks
slightly pained at the skinning job, the mess doesn't seem to phase Orro at all.
A half-elf holding a bow and nocked arrow stands nearby regarding him. Feanor as Orro would learn this ranger's name
to be, pulled back slightly on his bowstring.
Looking at Feanor, Orro says, "No need for more fighting. I go to Tricaster to
get new job for money. Can stay or go as you would wish."
As introductions proceed, Orro gives his name. "I am Orrobahk, was
first mate of ship CELESTE for many years. Before that, was Chieftain of
Black Fang band." (He avoids mentioning that his 'band' had only five
members when it was destroyed.) "Captain died, and ship crew did not want
me for captain. None could fight me for job, so paid me to go. Was fair
enough. Money go away soon, and I look for new job. Hear jobs good in
Tricatser.. er, Tri-cast-er. You go that way? Safe travel in bigger
Meanwhile, the dwarf had finished the skinning and had decided to consume the fresh bear liver. Removing that amidst much gore, he takes a large bite and is chewing noisily as he brings a chunk over to the cleric. Pyramus
can see from the pieces of bear fat sticking out of it and the redness of Vroom's beard that he has already been tasting the fruits
of the slaughter. Vroom is covered in blood, but he seems not to care. Pyramus declined the offer.
Orro smiles at the site of the dwarf (being careful of his larger
canines to not make it look like a sneer) commenting, "Friend dwarf look
like friend I growed up with. He too make mess of food - until bigger food
think he look too good to resist, and eat him." Orro laughs heartily, adding
"Well, okay. He really wasn't friend, he was bully. Was funny to see him
chomped good. But don't want to see dwarf get chomped by big food, and
blood smell will look good to one." Orro offers one of his water skins to
Vroom to wash off with.
Vroom, noting that Orro's weapons are away from hands, takes the skin and offers the Orc thing some meat. “You are a strange
one. What happened, did a human PORK an Orc and end up with you? You have to ham it to some people, they will do anything
for a little bacon on the side.” Vroom will chuckle to himself and grab the unsteady
Cleric, ready to help him back to the road.
Orro replies, "Don't think mother had choice in matter, but died when I came out so
don't know." Taking a small chunk of the liver, and eating it much less
messily than Vroom did, "Thank you." He offers to assist helping the hurt man to
his road, then picking up his badger, follows along behind.
As they regain the road, a train of wagons pulls nearer along the road.
The wagon master calls from the wagons, obviouly in company of the trio Orro had just met.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Orro looks over at the wagon master. "Can tell by cheerful talk that is
friend of dwarf, yes?"
Vroom scoffs at this and mutters, "Friends with that poncy toff?" He adds a Dwarvish mutterance that Orro takes as a curse.
Having no idea what he meant, Orro simply comments, "Or not maybe."
[Scene fades back to small room, as Orro leans forward to stir the coals in his small heating brazier....]
Orro's face is still lit with a smile from the memories of his friends. "It was a good day. My new friends worked for the wagon as guards
that one trip. In my travel since, only hummie I ever see who almost as grumpy as dwarf Vroom, was that man. We get to Tri-cas-ter two
days later, and meet more new friends there. Many stories of our time together, but is very late tonight. We can talk more another day."
Leothold takes the hint and stands immediately. "I look forward to our next talk, Master Orro." Orro had already given up trying to break
Leo's habit of calling him 'Master', and simply nodded to Leothold's bow. Orro's gaze lingered on the closed door long after Leo had padded
off down the hall. Reaching over to turn down his lamp, Orro chuckled quietly as he recognized the spark of wanderlust and
adventure-seeking taking root in the young monk.
I love that it's from the point of view of a Half-Orc.
Thanks for sharing...keep em coming...
Guilds -- Officer: Umber Hulks, Member: Knights of the Silver Dragon (KotSD)
Characters: Nalinor (Human Rogue lvl 20), Cargonar (Dwarven Fighter lvl 11), Atlanon (Dwarven Fighter 11/Barb. 2). Beltakorr (Human Barb. 18/Fighter 2), Fleabite (Halfling Wiz. lvl 9), Skirahzalon (Drow Bard lvl 8).
*pokes Snip... pokes again... and pokepokepokepokepokehpokes again*
Oloth's latest installment has been posted here.
To anyone that reads it:
Please don't repost it anywhere else without my permission.
Last edited by Uamhas; 02-02-2009 at 02:45 AM.
~ Oloth's Tale ~ xX-----==<<<Yes, I roleplay. Get over it.>>>==-----XxOriginally Posted by Beol
There’s a strange beauty in the simple things. Like that little place where the road forks. You know the one? On the one path, the road continues straight ahead, curving over the hill and out of sight. On the other, the road bends to the left, into a grove of trees and the waiting darkness within. Or take for example, the way the wind plays and skitters amongst those same trees. The canopy of green flickers in the dying light, strobbing the undergrowth with the red rays of the sun. As the leaves dance, windows open between them, revealing the woods beyond. And there in the spaces between lies my prey.
Well, not prey exactly, but certainly my quarry. They had been spotted entering the woods about six miles behind me and my sister by my faithful companion as he traveled our back trail, covering those small traces that we left as we traveled. There certainly wasn’t much to cover, but the small precautions are what keep you alive in these backcountry regions, those secret places lost on the more settled lands. The quarry, however, either did not know of the details, or were too unsettled to care any longer. Either way, they had attracted the attention of my companion who had paced them for the better part of two miles before he informed me of their arrival.
Pia sat in the crook of a tree above me, carefully whittling a small block of wood with a small carving dagger. It could be more accurately described as a pin knife, but in her halfling hands it deftly carved at the forming sculpture, shavings falling carefully onto a silk cloth that would be bundled and saved until the next time a fire was needed. The more deadly tools of her trade lay crossed on her back, hilts jutting to the side by her elbows. They were a deadly combination, Pia and her sais. She said they guided themselves to their targets, always finding the quickest and quietest entry. But they were guided by the practiced hands of one who had dedicated her life to the quiet destruction of those deemed too elite for the Silver Flame to oppose in the open.
I glanced in her direction, and she, feeling the eyes of another upon her, glanced down at me. Her eyebrows shrugged at me as the unspoken question passed between us. She didn’t agree with my decision to observe the two and saw no reason to continue to do so. Hers was the way of the shadows, the darker places than even I prefer to roam, but I prevailed as the elder. Had she her way, we would have continued on a slightly different course, one that would have distanced us from the pair within a matter of minutes, freeing us from any concern for their well being. I couldn’t do that.
My companion had told me they entered the woods at a fast pace, glancing behind them often as they forged into the green shadows. There was a mine perhaps three days distant to the west, and a small village not far from there where the overseers and common folk lived. But these were no common folk. They wore the garb of slaves, rags covered in the dirt and grime of the underworld. Around their ankles were the cuffs of shackles, dim even in the daylight. But at the cuff, metallic iron glinted where the chain had been chipped apart from its partner link. Escaped slaves from the mine. That is what had caught my interest. This was a freeland, and here in the forest were two escaped slaves, running from their former masters. Three days from their captivity and still the look of panic was carved on their faces like some cruel frieze.
I smelt my companion before he materialized beside me. Ihpahn had chosen to follow me as a pup, leaving his mothers den for the adventure of travel. I could ask for no better friend than he and we owed each other our lives more times than we could hope to repay. His long pink tongue fell out of his mouth as he sat beside me, panting in rhythm with his heart. He reached out with his muzzle, touching his cold nose against my cheek in greeting as our minds touched.
“Their hunter follows quickly. He was no more than a mile away when I left him to find you. An odd one he is, though in remarkable shape for being able to follow in that metal skin of his.” So, these two slaves were being pursued by an armored guard without the aid of hounds? This truly was an oddity.
“Is he armed?” I asked.
“Aye, he carries a long sword with a curious insignia upon the cross guard and a shield with the same symbol upon his back.”
“Will he be able to catch them?”
“Almost certainly. He chases like a wolf with the first nipping of blood upon the fangs.” was the reply. Ihpahn never had a glowing opinion of his less intelligent cousins, the wolves. But he always compared to them when referencing a hunt.
“Well, we shall have to see that he doesn’t then, shan’t we.”
“You have three minutes, at the most.” came the reply as he lowered his head between his front paws and rested in the dank earth.
Pia flicked a shaving into my hair, attracting my attention up into the tree.
“Hunters?” was all she asked.
“Aye, just one.”
“And you’re going to do something about it, or can we just leave and let what will be to be?”
“These are freelands, little one. There will be no slaves in my sight.” With that, she turned back to her carving as I drew a single shaft from my quiver. There is beauty in the turning road and dancing leaves, but there is also beauty in the delicate shaft of an arrow. It was the beauty of precision and skill, honed over even more years than the hands that guided a dagger. A simple elegance that placed the elaborate frescoes of the pagan temples to shame. It was the deadly sophistication of a tool in the hands of a master.
Windows in the trees opened and closed as I waited patiently in the shadows of a strawberry patch. And there, appearing amongst them was the hunter, the man turned hunted. To many, it wouldn’t have been a clear shot with the trees and shrubs in between, but the windows of the woods were more than wide enough for a single shaft.
There was hardly a sound as the broad head cleft through his neck and stopped on the inside rim of his helm. Helmets would protect from above and beside, but they were weak from below. The sound was more than enough for Pia, however, who scooped up the silk cloth with the wood shavings in one deft swipe and dropped to the ground with even less sound than the arrow.
“Well, lets see what trouble you’ve gotten us involved in this time, shall we?” she stated as she strode through the underbrush to the fallen hunter. Ihpahn beat her to the man, however, blinking from his bed of earth to the human in the natural grace of his kind.
His paw rested upon the insignia on the face of the shield as Pia approached. Identifying marks were her area of expertise, required in order to know the houses of those whom she visited in the night. She studied the markings for a moment, then drew the carving knife from some sheathe somewhere on her small person and cut the purse strings free from the dead man’s belt. The gems therein quickly joined the knife in disappearing as she tossed the noticeably lighter bag towards me.
“And what house does he hail from sister?” A smile crept across Pia’s face as she turned towards me.
“One that follows the Order of Vol and evidently employs slaves where they should not. You just made my day Pwes. Lets go chat with those two escapees, shall we?”
She set off in the direction of the now freed slaves, her hands playing with the hilts of the daggers across her back as her feet skipped their way through the woods. I looked down at the fallen man and the shaft piercing his throat, and then glanced at Ihpahn.
“What have I gotten us into my dear friend?”
“Well” he replied, “either it’s something good, or as Pia seems to think, something fun. I’m content either way.” And with that his jaws cracked into a grin as he trotted off after the now invisible halfling.
There are too many good stories here for the newer folks not to have a chance to read. So here's a long overdue bump, spiced up with a new short story...
A grizzled old Half Orc sat on the porch of a small log cabin. The cabin sat mostly hidden on a wooded hill overlooking a small lake in the foothills of the Pomarj Mountains. The sun had sunk below the ridge line, and the shadows of the hilltops stretched out across the placid water. The occasional splash of a fish breaking the surface, or light rustling as rodents scurried thru the leaf bed seeking their evening meals were the only sounds intruding on the Half Orc's thoughts.
Orrobahk's rough fingers traced for the hundredth time the wood grain of the arm of his rough-hewn chair. His blue-gray eyes stared out across the lake as his thoughts wandered back over the years. The years he had spent on the high seas seemed an eon ago, and were now only the slightest wisps of memories. Years of adventuring, and so many stories he could tell once upon a time. A few memories stayed with him as sharply as if he were still standing in the same room with them. The beautiful human minstrel Felina who was able to see past his harsh exterior, and love the compassionate man inside. Vroom, easily the most brash and crude of the few dwarves he had met over the years, yet no more skilled warrior would he have ever wanted at his side in time of trouble. Pyramus, the Human Cleric who had taken the time to refine Orro's grasp of the Common tongue. Tir, the Elven Mage/Ranger who had taken the longest time to trust him. Leothold, and the other monks of his order with whom he had wintered one year.
Orro chuckled aloud to himself as he recalled the village of wee Halflings, and how overjoyed they were when he and his friends had returned some of their missing townfolk to them. Orro himself could never really explain why he had always felt such a protective kinship with the small folk. The month he had spent with the family of halflings as one of his friends recovered from grievous injuries were some of the most relaxing times he could recall. He glanced around at the porch and small clearing in front of his cabin. It was as near as he could manage to recreate the comfort of that time.
A sharp snap cracked nearby as a larger animal made it's way through the underbrush beginning it's evening activity, and brought Orro back from the wanderings of his thoughts. Dropping his feet from the porch rail, Orro forced himself out of his chair. The last wisps of light were streaming over the hill signalling time for him to stop reminiscing and get on with what he needed to do. Stepping over to the corner of the porch, he picked up his latest weapon of choice and pack of equipment before making his way towards the shoreline. He smiled to himself as he made his way along the shore to his favorite spot. It was going to be a good night for fishing.
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