Kern snorts in derision at Skreed's feeble attempt to stay alive.
"It will not matter in a moment, weakling. Grell, FLANK!"
Grell moves around behind the giant.
And she and Kern attack viciously.
plus
Now Skreed died. Now he needed to die again. It was the way of things. He and Fleshripper turned and charged giant Skreed.
Fleshripper swung wide and came up on the giant's far side.
Hakak, charging, flanking
Center of any square you're in to the center of any square the other guy is in
Center of any square you're in to the center of any square the other guy is in
"Will the real Skreed please fall down and die?"
Ozak steps forward, axe spinning right and left.
Hakak: 24
Shakraal Kringsdaughter: 16
Kern Dead-Eye: 16
Thoku Blood Drinker: 12
Ozak: 11
Choot Othul: 5
Giant: 4
Shakraal frowns under her mask, then spews vitriol at the assembled orcs.
"What is this? Skreed lies dead. He was not the Horde Forger - but this giant is? Mewling scum to follow the thin blood of giants!!!"
But, it matters not, for the Mouth of Zagresh has seen who the Destroyer has claimed for his horde, and the weakling potions-brewer has not yet been fed to the End of All Things! "Mighty Thoku. Zagresh has spoken, we get to kill this weakling twice!!!" He cackles in maniacal laughter as he raises his hands at the Giant Skreed.
Such sorceries matter not to Hakak Earth-Speaker! Now Skreed died. Now he needs to die again. It is the way of things. He and Fleshripper turn and charge giant Skreed.
Fleshripper swings wide and comes up on the giant's far side. While the Earth-brother cuts his flesh-hewer in a mighty arc that cuts a deep gash on the brute's arm! Blood pours freely from the wound and Skreed laughs with madness.
Fool! The giants' flesh is strong, though its mind is weak! I shall crush you into paste and wear your hides about my loins! All you have done is make me stronger! No longer will I need to court and gives rings to my warriors! I shall enslave all!
Shakraal feels impotence and fury. Is she not the wyrdcaster? She attempts to fire her last remaining spell of power lest she must resort to minor magicks...but once more, her accouterments of civilization, her armor and other metal protections that protect her weak hide prevent her from connecting to the deepest magic. She howls yet again in fury and frustration.
Kern snorts in derision at Skreed's feeble attempt to stay alive.
"It will not matter in a moment, weakling. Grell, FLANK!" The great warcat of Rull roars a mighty call worthy of her namesake and bounds about the possessed giant.
skreed's CMD is 23 Grell failed that. so.. AoO
Grell darts pass but Skreed casually swings his fist low to the ground, catching her in the ribs and tossing her several feet behind him. As she flies, she sinks her fangs deep into his hand. Teeth tear and acid burns his flesh. He pulls his hand back and leaves a finger in her mouth to chew. Kern, however, avenges his wounded comrade and sinks his axe deep into the giant's back, laying open the brutes spine!
"Ahahah, come back in as many bodies you wish dead one now you won't even have to honor to die as an orc" Thoku roars ready to end this one's life twice. The Bloodied One sings fang and claw deep into the giant's flesh, spilling his life and ripping out huge chunks of meat to feast the buzzards later!
Ozak Daggertooth circles to the left, stalking his prey. He has studied Skreed This whole battle, and he WILL end the brewer's life! He swings both sides of his double-headed warclaw in a wicked whirlwind of steel. One axeblade lands hard, severing the giant's arm at the shoulder, dousing the warriors of the Bleeding Storm in his read life! The other blade swings low, cutting deep into the giant's thigh and shattering bone, but falling short of hewing it clean! Skreed howls in agony and fear enters his eyes, for he sees Dread Zagresh's eye turning to him.
Wise Choot, dread Mouth of Zagresh, shaman of the Destroyer, Slave to the End of All Things, speaks the tongue of the Fire God! Fell smoke falls from his lips and gathers about his fingers in a small stone of glowing black light. It flies from his hand with clear aim, punching through the giant's ruined torso and coming out the other side! Skreed gasps his last breath and falls to the earth, his heart still pumping blood from the ruined hole of his chest.
As one, the assembled warriors fall to their knees, neck bared mighty Thoku. They roar in primal strength and power, and slam fist to chest. The rull-noise echoes far and wide throughout the fallen human town, and taken up by many more warriors wherever they hear, until the whole of the hill thunders with the name!
Ozak looks around for a moment at the cheering orcs. I guess this horde loves a winner. He goes over to the dying body of the giant, raising his axe.
"Do you care for his head? I wouldn't mind one of those tusks, myself."
Ozak looks at the others. "So, we have Skreed's Horde. But did he have a hoard? Heh heh."
He looks at the group for a moment.
"By 'hoard' I mean loot. Where is Skreed's tent, anyway? It might be there."
Sweat and foolish tears well together to mar the warwitch's vision. The battle is done, Skreed defeated, but Shakraal has failed. "Mighty" Thoku bears the exultation and adulation that should by rights be hers.
"Thoku. Chief. Thoku" she yells, but her heart is not in the cry.
Kern tends to Grell, quietly praising her good work. Unlike Hakak, he finds that his companions follow orders better when not being punched and kicked into submission.
"Chief Thoku, the tribe is ours. Your strength is bared for all to see. Shall we celebrate?"
THough Kern does not sport in bloodlust the way his comrades do, he does have needs and decides to look around the camp for an attractive female to take as a mate, at least temporarily. If he must, he will challenge her current mate to a duel, though he doubts any would resist him in the current mood.
Kern tends to Grell, quietly praising her good work. Unlike Hakak, he finds that his companions follow orders better when not being punched and kicked into submission.
"Chief Thoku, the tribe is ours. Your strength is bared for all to see. Shall we celebrate?"
THough Kern does not sport in bloodlust the way his comrades do, he does have needs and decides to look around the camp for an attractive female to take as a mate, at least temporarily. If he must, he will challenge her current mate to a duel, though he doubts any would resist him in the current mood. [dice=Intimidate]1d20+8
Hakak roared his triumph and proceeded to Skreed's original body. Things would end as they had begun. He seized Skreed's manhood and cut it loose, holding it aloft for all to see.
"Thoku Horde-Forger!" he shouted, swinging the member about to spray blood on the earth. Mother took her due.
Thoku lets out a mighty roar that trembles across all those gathered here. His song calls to the blood in all the orcs who can hear him, tusk grow mussels thicken. "Hear me all, this is the might of the bleeding storm all challengers fall before our might. Look at this stain Skreed and those that followed him. Fallen by my might and my tribe, YOU wish to know a peace of this power? Then tomorrow night bring a gift of blood and destruction to be given to the god that gives us our blood and the destroyer. Then if it is excepted by them you will be part of the bleeding storm and with me you will bring this world under foot."
Thoku turns to the two still living hunter "I know you flowed him for you thought his strength was true even if his hid and let you fall like a shield to be broken before my storm. you wish to live and know true glory."
Thoku then turns to badaxe nodding "end him, he will be forgotten like he forgot he was an orc.... you wont even be allowed into the dead hoard, be forgotten satin for thats all your actions have been..." with a mighty stomp thoku crushes the head of the stains body making its name match its body...
Thoku then turns to badaxe nodding "end him,...
Without hesitation Skullbiter falls, severing the giant's head.
He holds up the giant's dripping head for all to see. He waits a moment, watching the crowd as they cheer.
"SKREED IS NO MORE!!!" he shouts. Then, he kicks the head up in the air into the crowd with a laugh. "Hah! Let them play with that for a bit."
Thoku lets out a mighty roar that trembles across all those gathered here. His song calls to the blood in all the orcs who can hear him, tusks grow muscles thicken. "Hear me, all! This is the might of the Bleeding Storm! All challengers fall before our might. Look at this stain Skreed and those that followed him. Fallen by my might and my tribe! YOU wish to know a piece of this power? Then, tomorrow night, bring a gift of blood and destruction to be given to the god that gives us our blood and the Destroyer. Then, if it is excepted by them, you will be part of the Bleeding Storm and, with me, you will bring this world under foot."
Thoku turns to the still living hunter "I know you followed him because you thought his strength was true, even if he hid and let you fall like a shield to be broken before my storm. Do you wish to live and know true glory?"
A war seems to rage in the mind of the hunter. Thoku can see the hate burning in his eyes battling with the shame of defeat in his heart, and the fear and awe boiling in his blood. He roars and snarls as Thoku speaks, flashing his tusks, and gnashing his teeth. Garekk Gorthek-Brother has no honor.[/b ]The hunter spits a glob of bloody phlegm to the ground at Skreed’s ruined body. [b]That one took it, and made it his own. Thoku Foe-Terror will give Garekk his honor once more. He bears his neck and belly both to the Bloodied One, silently signally complete submission to the Chief of the Bleeding Storm. Garekk will serve.
Kern heal his wounds... Thoku grabs the hunter's right arm his claws dig deep into it. "Then prove your dedication to never fail me and bind your axe to the stump that was once you blade hand" Thoku sinews flex as he crushes the hunter's forearm. "Now remove the rest and prove your worth to me tomorrow night with the rest of the supplicants" Garek roars in savage primal power! He slams his blade down on his ruined arm, cutting in cleanly free, bathing Thoku and himself in his gushing blood. A new light burns in his eyes as he looks upon the Bloodied One. Respect. Thoku has one a lifelong and loyal warrior this day. The crowd roars even louder!
Sweat and foolish tears well together to mar the warwitch's vision. The battle is done, Skreed defeated, but Shakraal has failed. "Mighty" Thoku bears the exultation and adulation that should by rights be hers.
"Thoku. Chief. Thoku" she yells, but her heart is not in the cry. Yet, her shameful anger is lost to the winds, as the tribe roars Thoku's name! Then, Hakak roars his triumph and proceeds to Skreed's original body. Things will end as they had begun. He seizes Skreed's manhood and cuts it loose, holding it aloft for all to see.
"Thoku Horde-Forger!" he shouts, swinging the member about to spray blood on the earth. Mother takes her due. The crowd goes silent for a moment, and then the warriors lose themselves in madness and exhilaration. Some paint themselves in the drops of life raining down on them! The chant changes. They call out the name of the Horde-Forger! The call out Thoku the Bloodided-One! The whole of the ruined village thunders with their cries!
Ozak looks around for a moment at the cheering orcs. I guess this horde loves a winner,p he muses, his mind ever-full of the Despoiler’s cunning. He goes over to the dying body of the giant, raising his axe.
"Do you care for his head? I wouldn't mind one of those tusks, myself." His voice bites through the crowd as clearly as his fangs rend the soft flesh of a pinkskin’s neck.
Thoku turns to the Badaxe and nods. "End him! He will be forgotten like he forgot he was an orc.
Without hesitation Skullbiter falls, severing the giant's head. He holds up the giant's dripping head for all to see. He waits a moment, watching the crowd as they cheer. The horde roars with glee and bloodlust. "SKREED IS NO MORE!!!" he shouts. Then, he kicks the head up in the air into the crowd with a laugh. "Hah! Let them play with that for a bit."
The Bloodied One glares down at Skree’d ruined first body You won’t even be allowed into the dead hoard! Be forgotten, stain, for that’s all your actions have been..." With a mighty stomp Thoku crushes the head of the stain’s body making its name match its body.
The Horde roars again in approval and toss and kick and beat the giant head about them like an inflated bladder until Garekk roars and all are silent. The hunter picks up the giant by sinking two fingers of his lone hand into its nostrils. Arm leaking blood still, he stomps forward to Mighty Thoku and slams the head down at the chief’s feet. He bares his tusks and neck to his chief, and then steps back into the crowd to tend to his arm.
Kern tends to Grell, quietly praising her good work. Unlike Hakak, he finds that his companions follow orders better when not being punched and kicked into submission.
"Chief Thoku, the tribe is ours. Your strength is bared for all to see. Shall we celebrate?" Though Kern does not sport in bloodlust the way his comrades do, he does have needs and decides to look around the camp for an attractive female to take as a mate, at least temporarily. If he must, he will challenge her current mate to a duel, though he doubts any would resist him in the current mood. No male meets his gaze, the few that do, show interests that Kern does not share, and they turn aside quickly. Two females, strong and healthy, their flesh covered in the stories of their power, make themselves available to the Dead Eye. One male stands to challenge Kern’s right to mate, but it is clearly only a token effort, meant for show and proper ritual, and not an actual challenge to the Dead Eye’s right of conquest. He is put down easily, and then, laughing, the warrior paints Kern’s chest in the bloodied symbols sacred to Dretha so she may bless the coupling with strong offspring.
Soon, drums sound and the horde turns to merriment and revelry! Loudest of the revelers is Garekk Gorthek-Brother, ruined arm still bleeding and un-bound. Quietest is a shriveled crone of a orc female, body thin and haunched like a withered tree limb in the desert. She is trailed by a throng of females, each adorned in a wooden mask, although none anywhere near as fearsome and mighty as hers. By her side crawls a naked elf, bound to her hand by a fleshy tendril that pulses with life. Wherever she walks, the horde parts and merriment ceases, none, not even the strongest warriors of the tribe look at her, not even her shadow, such is the power she commands. Her passing is always marked by a large ripple of silence and open space in the press of flesh.
Soon, though, she moves on, and the revelry continues. Strong drink flows easily, and meat roasts on spits turned by slaves. The air is filled with the grunts and roars of feats of strength, celebration, and rutting! Thoku Horde-Forger’s Bleeding Storm is now a great host!
The next day, each of the horde approach Choot and Thoku in the ritual to bind themselves to the Bleeding Storm. Each cuts away the symbols of their old tribe, the bent nail running through a heart of the Twisted Hearts is cut or burned or ripped away from orc flesh, and they cut or brand or tattoo the mark of the Bleeding Storm prominently upon their skin for all to see, proud of their mighty chief and his strong horde! Each makes offerings of blood-wealth to their masters as well. Some offer gold or weapons, others give works the humans thought precious which the warriors then destroy. Others give slaves, both as offerings and in service. A few give half-breed whelps, some still in the womb as slaves and future warriors to the Chief! Several give their own females as mates.
The silent female comes towards the end and silently breaks off a piece of her mask to lay at Thoku’s feet. Her mask regrows instantly, but the implication is all the same. Each of her throng do the same. Their masks do not regrow. She nods and then departs, elf slave crawling in the dust like a terrified dog.
Finally, she reappears with Garrekk and his gorthek in tow. His ruined arm has been nailed to his breastplate and he holds the stump aloft. Slaves bring a large brazier before the crone and she places the hunter’s greataxe into the flames. Garrekk snarls, looking Thoku clear in the eyes, he thrusts his stump into the flames as well. The scent of burning flesh rises into the air, and several of the horde drool and lick their chops. Deftly, the crone grabs a slave and disembowels it, wrapping its innards about the axe and stump, the corpse she tosses to the gorthek who promptly begins feeding. Suddenly, Garrek screams in pain, which he turns into a roar of savagery, there is no shame in that, and Thoku is honored even more to command such a mighty warrior! The flesh of the hunter’s stump unravels about the bone and works its way up the shaft of the greataxe until it twines itself about the haft halfway towards the great head! The rest of the shaft bursts out from the Garekk’s shoulder as a bony outcrop run through with metal. The flesh and steel of the axe merge until the axe head looks like it was grown from his flesh, a twisted, cutting, savage weapon of steel and bone and flesh all mingled together. She nods and spits on the weapon , cooling it instantly and leaves without any further words. Garrekk roars, lifting his mighty weapon for all to see and then cuts his good arm, letting the blood run free before turning to Mighty Thoku and offering his bloodied axe and arm to his new chief. Every warrior does the same in one move.
The meaning is clear. All belong to Thoku! He has forged a horde!
The tribe is about 500 strong.
200 warriors of varying ability (including about 10 commanders, one of which is Garrekk)
300 noncombatant females, whelps, and infirm/old (who are treated like slaves, but aren’t, technically, slaves)
10 shamans (witches, actual shamans, warpriests, etc-including the weird old lady who TOTALLY isn’t important, because i didn’t spend like 3 or 4 paragraphs describing her)
10 siege slaves (2 cave giants, 8 ogres that are enslaved and trained as living siege weapons)
Roughly a town (so… 600 or so) of slaves. A few of these are divine or arcane casters and well-trained warriors (level fighters, paladins, rangers, etc) who all had positions of prominence and respect within the human community. These may prove.. Problematic.
Thoku roars to get the attention of all gathered he begins to pull out the skulls in his possession "Bring me the skulls and spines of all our blood that have fallen in taking this city they will be forever remembered by the bleeding storm"[/b He holds a spine in the air [b]"Its with the strong back that give strength to our blows" He holds up the skull "these skulls are what mark us as orcs lead our backs to power our blows, these will be added to the throne i will make using our strength and minds always guiding this hoard and make this world tremble at the shadow cast from our backs. Orc will rule this world and the bleeding storm will be the axe that splits any who dare to stand against the Bleeding storm let any with orc blood in there blood prove worthy stand with us!!"
Thoku roars to get the attention of all gathered he begins to pull out the skulls in his possession "Bring me the skulls and spines of all our blood that have fallen in taking this city they will be forever remembered by the bleeding storm"[/b He holds a spine in the air [b]"Its with the strong back that give strength to our blows" He holds up the skull "these skulls are what mark us as orcs lead our backs to power our blows, these will be added to the throne i will make using our strength and minds always guiding this hoard and make this world tremble at the shadow cast from our backs. Orc will rule this world and the bleeding storm will be the axe that splits any who dare to stand against the Bleeding storm let any with orc blood in there blood prove worthy stand with us!!"
Thoku roars to get the attention of all gathered. As one, the horde falls silent, waiting on baited breath to see what their chief commands. He begins to pull out the skulls in his possession. "Bring me the skulls and spines of all our blood that have fallen in taking this city. They will be forever remembered by the Bleeding Storm" He holds a spine in the air "Its with a strong back that gives strength to our blows" He holds up the skull "These skulls are what mark us as orcs and lead our backs to power our blows! These will be added to the throne I will make using our strength and minds always guiding this horde and make this world tremble at the shadow cast from our backs. Orc will rule this world and the Bleeding Storm will be the axe that splits any who dare to stand against the Bleeding Storm let any with orc blood in there blood prove worthy stand with us!!"
The horde rushes to obey! Soon, there are several grizzly piles of bones set before the chief. The cannibals had already flensed many of the carcasses, so the spines were easy to acquire. Skulls required a bit more work, but soon they too piled before the Bleeding Storm.
While the others seek satisfaction in the arms of the opposite sex, Choot brings Thrull with him to watch over him as he flagellates himself with a spiked holy symbol of Zagresh. He then uses a mirror from one of the homes of these humans to carve a copy of the symbol into his own forehead.
The next day, Choot accepts and blesses each and every member of the new tribe, inscribing the holy symbol of Zagresh upon their heads with the blood of the corpse that was the giant Skreed.
As Thoku begins to build his throne, Choot blesses it as well. "Destroyer, bless this throne as you have blessed the Chieftan Mighty Thoku. Let it stand until the end of time as when all things must wither to dust beneath your mighty gaze!"
Choot then whispers to Thoku, "Tell me Chieftan, what shall we do with the heroes of this city who did not perish in the fighting?"Once he hears Thoku's reply he changes the topic. "Chieftan, I will investigate the Crone..."
Choot follows the procession to demand an audience with the Crone...
While the others seek satisfaction in the arms of the opposite sex, Choot brings Thrull with him to watch over him as he flagellates himself with a spiked holy symbol of Zagresh. He then uses a mirror from one of the homes of these humans to carve a copy of the symbol into his own forehead.
The next day, Choot accepts and blesses each and every member of the new tribe, inscribing the holy symbol of Zagresh upon their heads with the blood of the corpse that was the giant Skreed.
As Thoku begins to build his throne, Choot blesses it as well. "Destroyer, bless this throne as you have blessed the Chieftan Mighty Thoku. Let it stand until the end of time as when all things must wither to dust beneath your mighty gaze!"
Choot then whispers to Thoku, "Tell me Chieftan, what shall we do with the heroes of this city who did not perish in the fighting?"Once he hears Thoku's reply he changes the topic. "Chieftan, I will investigate the Crone..."
Choot follows the procession to demand an audience with the Crone...
They all stand with baited breath as the shaman extends his hands over over the piles of bones. Dark shadows and dead, rotting things crawl up from the ground, chittering and buzzing as they slowly devour the scraps of flesh and sinew that clean to the bones, polishing them to a burnished whiteness. When they are done, the bones faintly glow with a black aura once Choot's done with his intonation. The black aura fades to nothing, and only those who sea with Sezelrian's fire can detect the aura's presence.
Once he is done, Choot turns from the stage and walks through the horde, each warrior moves aside, giving the shaman a wide berth, as is his right. He is the Slave of Death. He serves the Destroyer, who gives noble, bloody death in battle, or the curse of age and disease. None seek the eye of the Doom of All Things, yet all wish to belong to His horde. The shaman asks, and those who do not wet themselves at his presence, or the mention of the Crone's name point vaguely towards temple of the Sword-woman.
He turns that way, followed by his slave, Thrull. As they walk, they see orc overseers whipping the enslaved humans, driving them to work, to rebuild and refortify the human town, clear streets, repair and mend weapons, and cook roasting meat--most of which were their fellow comrades in arms. Those who fight back are beaten into submission, or thrust, still-screaming, onto a spit and set across a low flame to roast beside their fellows. After a few such incidents, complaints cease. Humans are such weak and puny things.
Inside the temple of the wench, he sees the Crone sitting on the ground, directing the other masked witches to move and search through things. Beside her, a naked elf, pristine and clean, despite the battle, sits at her feet like a dog. He looks at her with mute terror every few moments before turning back to the ground. A thick, fleshy, cord that pulses with life joins the back of the elf's neck and head to the Crone's leg. The former high priest of the temple, naked, his hands bound in blobs of bloody flesh, his mouth pulled wide open by skeletal fingers, preventing him from making an intelligible word or arcane gesture, moves about the temple, driven by a whip carried by one of the wyrd-casters. He is forced to slam a fist into every image of the Sword Woman, staining tapestries, shattering glass, ruining paintings and cloth.
Without a word, the Crone points to a space beside her, the meaning is clear. Choot must sit.
Throughout the revelry, Shakraal can feel eyes watch her. As she turns, she sees one of the masked women staring at her behind a wooden mask of horns and bone. Come to us when this is done, Bloodscreamer. We have much to discuss.
Paying no attention to the weak human when he arrives at the Temple. Choot does as he is bade. He turns to Thrull and grins, "Perhaps if you are good I shall give you a companion as attractive as the one this Crone brings along with her Thrull. Your cold dead flesh pressed together, a mockery of the elven love for life. It is fitting is it not Thrull".
He then turns back to the Crone after his fit of cruelty has passed and remains quiet, he will wait for her to address him.
** spoiler omitted **
Thrull moans and the elf at the Crone's side grinds his face into the carpets. A wyrd-woman steps forward What male speaks before Ihja Shadowbinder?
The Crone lifts a finger and the witch stammers He is.. not even chiefs demand of you! Another finger and the witch silences before pulling back with the rest of the coven.
The elf at Ihja's side moans it tries to jerk away, but Ihja strokes the fleshy tendril and it screams, scurrying back and placing its head at her feet. She reaches down with a gnarled clawed hand and lightly taps its forehead. It moans and pulls up onto its haunches. What do you seek, Mouth of Zagresh? It's voice is the twittering of birds, soft frail, and high pitched. But, it's voice is hollow, dead, almost. Although, the elf speaks, it is not its words Choot hears, but those of Ihja, the Crone.
Soon, drums sound and the horde turns to merriment and revelry!
Ozak partakes of the drink that begins to flow, but he keeps looking over his shoulder at the buildings of the conquered human town. He seems lost in thought.
The party should happen AFTER sacking the town. There may be survivors... or hidden loot we haven't found yet!
He comes to a decision. Dumping his flagon onto the ground, he begins to look around, looking for members of the new horde who are pacing themselves, deliberately trying not to drink too much.
Those he sees that would be suitable, he approaches, and curtly, says "Come with me." To those that hesitate, he fixes them with a glare, and says
or, well, you have an entire town to pillage!
Once he has gathered a half-dozen or so orcs and/or half orcs, Ozak turns to them.
"Verex has given this town unto us; there is still plunder in this town to take. There may be great treasures in hidden places. You may want things for yourself, but remember you may also catch the eye of the chief if you have offerings that outshine the offerings of others. Let us see what we can find!"
Ozak leads the orcs into the town.
Ten warriors heed the words of mighty Ozak! They put down their strong drink and set aside their roast meat, and follow the Daggertooth as he searches through the captured city. Each bear the mark of Zagresh proudly on their black leather armor. As they follow Ozak, they move with the measured strides of those stalk with the wisdom and gifts of Verex.
The temple to Iomedae has already been claimed by the witches. But the House of the God of Cities has yet to be pillaged. The longhouse, being the largest building in the city of the pinkskins, is rightly Thoku's by conquest. He is Chief and the largest and greatest of spoils belong to him to pass out as is meet.
The House of the Builder of Walls is filled with gold and soft works of cloth, paint, and stone. At the end of the house, the Builder of Walls himself frowns down at the pillagers. The shamans teach that the images of the Chiefs of Fire and Blood are the gods. The Builder of Walls is his statue! The Chiefs in Fire and Blood demand his death!
There is much wealth in the city, but none that wold be easy to carry with Ozak or the Chief as they bring more conquest and glory to the Horde. But, it will prove useful, still.
So. you have enough wealth and raw materials to buy/build about 3 siege weapons, if you want.
Choot then whispers to Thoku, "Tell me Chieftan, what shall we do with the heroes of this city who did not perish in the fighting?"Once he hears Thoku's reply he changes the topic. "Chieftan, I will investigate the Crone..."
Choot follows the procession to demand an audience with the Crone...
"have them brought here lets see whats left of this city..they might have some useful knowledge...."
When choot mentions the crone "ah, yes learn what she is about and why dose she follow but act as if she is grater then your family and your chief...i can feel grate occult power coming from her she might pose a challenge to our right...
Thoku looks at his new seat of power and grins finding a crying slave he gives it a blade [b]"here soft blood, take the blade hold its potential power in your hands. Yes now strike me make my blood run if you do i will free you and one of your choice and you will be free from this horror..." Thoku makes no attempt to doge the weak blow from the soft blood drawing only a trickle of life from his mighty from "Ahaha" he laughs with horrid cheer "well done now tell me who do you wish to free with you" Thoku moves and brings them both before his throne "there now after this you will be free..." Thoku looks at the one who he let attack him with a wicked smile on his face the bloody chief thrust his fist through the back of the soft blood that his attacker chose. Covering the throne and his attack on the blood of his victim... "There now its free...ahhaha" Thoku stalks closer to the attacker after throwing the victim on the throne to "feed" it "Now remember i gave you a choose and you picked that one and your self to be free of this horror...ahhaha never say i don't keep my word " the mighty chief of the bleeding storm slashes with his powerful claws spilling its entrails onto the floor, he then picks it up draining the life from it covering the throne in its blood... then The mighty Chief Thoku sits on his throne a shadow of death passes over him and the throne is clean and bright as if blood was never spilt upon it
Kern notices Ozak pulling together a coalition of orcs and follows, leaving his two females for the moment and glaring at all the males nearby, telling them that the females are off-limits until he returns.
To Ozak: "A sound idea, cousin. You think clearly and without undue malice. I can appreciate that." He goes along and meticulously catalogues the riches they find, so as to report it back to Thoku. Then he returns to his females and continues his revelry, hoping to create a few 3/4 orcs to contribute to the horde.
"Ihja Shadowbinder, the Mouth of Zagresh seeks Wisdom. Though my deeds amount to nothing and all we build will decay to dust, I would still seek to please my Master by bringing before him many souls to be judged worthy or unworthy. There are whispers, whispers that those who are found worthy may slip into the next world after this one is gone to begin the cycle anew!
So many roads to travel, so many decisions to make. I would hear your Council in these matters that I may consider your Wisdom while I advise the Chieftan..."
Ihja Shadowbinder sits for a moment, her horrid mask facing Choot. Then, she tosses a few gnarled knuckle bones and bits of colored stone onto worn tanned orcskin. She nods, and tosses them again. Thrice more she reads the stones, before the elf's mouth opens and speaks with her voice once more.
Long has it been since those who speak with the voice of the Chiefs in Fire and Blood have come to seek council from the wyrdcasters. The Mouths of the Chiefs have ever been at war with those who speak Sezelrian's tongue. The elf laughs as Ihja's shoulders soundlessly shake. This chief, Thoku, he is strong. He wears the sacred flesh of the Blood God, and brings war and conquest wherever he goes. The old chief, Skreed. she spits a rotting blob of brownish-yellow phlegm onto her elf's back. He bound us in chains to Grenseldek, the Hill Giant brood mare. He believed the treasures of Uskroth's hoard would bind the hordes to him. Neither was slave to the other. Uskroth gave us war, we mated with his ilk and birthed mighty warriors, strengthening the tribe for all. Grenseldek knew this. She seeks favor of a Tyrant whose name even the spirits do not speak. The brood mare thinks herself a great chief! Hah! Even now, she marshals her forces, collecting a great horde, waiting for the Stain to return with his prizes. He hoped to bind her to him. His life was forfeit the moment he left her side.
She pauses and looks to Choot with cokced head. What treasures did you find amongst the Hero Chief's bones?
Choot then whispers to Thoku, "Tell me Chieftan, what shall we do with the heroes of this city who did not perish in the fighting?"Once he hears Thoku's reply he changes the topic. "Chieftan, I will investigate the Crone..."
Choot follows the procession to demand an audience with the Crone...
"have them brought here lets see whats left of this city..they might have some useful knowledge...."
When choot mentions the crone "ah, yes learn what she is about and why dose she follow but act as if she is grater then your family and your chief...i can feel grate occult power coming from her she might pose a challenge to our right...
Thoku looks at his new seat of power and grins finding a crying slave he gives it a blade [b]"here soft blood, take the blade hold its potential power in your hands. Yes now strike me make my blood run if you do i will free you and one of your choice and you will be free from this horror..." Thoku makes no attempt to doge the weak blow from the soft blood drawing only a trickle of life from his mighty from "Ahaha" he laughs with horrid cheer "well done now tell me who do you wish to free with you" Thoku moves and brings them both before his throne "there now after this you will be free..." Thoku looks at the one who he let attack him with a wicked smile on his face the bloody chief thrust his fist through the back of the soft blood that his attacker chose. Covering the throne and his attack on the blood of his victim... "There now its free...ahhaha" Thoku stalks closer to the attacker after throwing the victim on the throne to "feed" it "Now remember i gave you a choose and you picked that one and your self to be free of this horror...ahhaha never say i don't keep my word " the mighty chief of[/b]...
The horde roars with glee, pounding fist to chest, and shaking the weapons in the air in great shows of force and strength. The call of Thoku Horde-Forger once more rises throughout the ruined town as the horde return to their revels.
Shakraal looks on the mewling humans of Trunau as they are led before Thoku. She whispers in his ear.
"Great Lord, most of these are but daggers at our backs, and should be given as prizes to our new horde. Remove a hand from each to show our strength, and to limit their capacity. Brand them on the forehead to prove ownership. Mate the strong males and females with those of our horde who wish to make the strong hybrids."
[indicates a leader of some sort - priest/mayor/officious type]
"Such as those should be tortured and interrogated. I or Choot should be most capable at removing important information from behind their eyes..."
The warseer's baleful eye falls upon a distraught child.
"But most important of all, do not leave the children to grow with enmity in their hearts. Either kill them, or make slaves of them also. Nothing grows so pure as hatred and a desire for revenge in a child wronged or orphaned in war.
With that, she walks away.
Interesting.
For once the warwitch shows favor. She bows, and looking around, makes obeisance to the figure.
"This...is already past "done". Lead on, honored aunt."
Ozak returns from his foray and rejoins the festivities. He looks on with mild interest as Thoku puts on his gory display.
"But most important of all, do not leave the children to grow with enmity in their hearts. Either kill them, or make slaves of them also. Nothing grows so pure as hatred and a desire for revenge in a child wronged or orphaned in war."
Ozak scratches his head.
"But where's the fun in that? The battle is the thing... we want the humans to come out and fight. Teaching them to hate us guarantees glorious battles in our future!"
Thoku grins at Ozaks words "yes well said this world will be under the bleeding storm, but I wont have orcs grow soft thinking all our enemies are gone if we end all our meat then we risk our blades getting dull and steel skin rusting getting weak will allow even the softest of blood to kill an orc....No I have an entertaining idea gather all the so called heroes of the soft bloods and they're families..."
Thoku calls to Shakraal as she is walking way "One day you will learn to never fear the tempered hate of a soft blood as long as your tusk and blades are sharp they will never take you down"
Thoku grins at Ozaks words "yes well said this world will be under the bleeding storm, but I wont have orcs grow soft thinking all our enemies are gone if we end all our meat then we risk our blades getting dull and steel skin rusting getting weak will allow even the softest of blood to kill an orc....No I have an entertaining idea gather all the so called heroes of the soft bloods and they're families..."
Thoku calls to Shakraal as she is walking way "One day you will learn to never fear the tempered hate of a soft blood as long as your tusk and blades are sharp they will never take you down"
The Bloodscreamer is led through the throng to a small cavern in the base of the hill. It is a tiny thing, barely large enough to a single warrior, let alone the three other wyrd-women who sit around the small fire at the cavern's heart. Acrid smoke rises to the air, burning the Bloodscreamer's eyes. You are strong, Kringsdaughter one of the witches speaks. Come, join our fire. The other masked females move around, making room for Shakraal and her guide. Her guide reaches behind her and pulls a cord, dropping a flap of tanned orc hide over the opening, sealing the cavern into darkness, lit only by the fire burning in the center of the circle. The air is hot and steamy, filled with smoke and odd vapors. The shadows cast by the witches dance and contort on the cavern walls.
Silently, one of the women adds a ladle of blood to the fire, and warm scent of burning life fills the air amid a puff of steam and smoke. A second witch tosses a few herbs onto the fire, and still more steam and smoke fill the chamber. The cavern is filled with Sezelrian's power! A fourth hexcrafter tosses the stones into the fire. Runescarred wood, bits of colored rock, dried bones, and feathers are picked up by some unseen spirit and whirl about the fire, pulling in the smoke, yet pushing it out further into the eyes of the five witches sitting about the flame. At its center, the image of a crone, impossibly old, wearing the most terrifying and garish mask Shakraal has ever seen, stands. The Crone!
She speaks in the circle of reading-stones,and Shakraal hears the Crone's voice in her mind! Shakraal, I would count you sister and daughter, as I do my sisters of our coven. Even now, I speak with the Mouth of Zagresh that heels your chief like a tamed wolf. He, like all the slaves of the Chiefs of Fire and Blood, has the ear of the Horde Forger, and it is voice alone, our chief heeds. The Bloodied One speaks the Fire God's tongue! His lungs are filled with the smoke of Sezelrian, although Nulgreth has given him flesh. He could be a great chieftain, a commander of a great horde, perhaps stronger than even Grask Uldeth, who commands the fallen dwarf city!
The witches all spit, including the Crone.
His ear must be bent to our voice! We are the wyrd-casters, we, alone, are fit to advise and guide the tribes to true greatness! For, we are not bound to the Chiefs in Fire and Blood. We serve none but our own. Yet, we are of the tribes. Separate, yet joined, we are best to guide. Through our words, the tribes will become strong! Heed, now, the wisdom of the Wyrdcasters. Ages ago, our greatest shamans and hexcrafteres worked to forge weapons of great power against the giants who sought to enslave us. Varg's Thorn, they called them. The smoke of their creation has been lost by the winds for ages. Most were thought destroyed by the Tall Ones in the countless wars against our tribes. But, the spirits have spoken to me! They whisper that there is one left within the depths of the Ghostlight Marsh.
The smoke swirls for a moment, and sparks rise, the image flickers as though she is distracted for a moment, but then it returns clear as ever. Varg's Thorn is a mighty prize. A boon to some, a promise to others. Tool, wealth, weapon all are one. Go, Kringsdautter, seek your doom!
The witches chuckle along with the Crone.. the secret of her words is clear:
The human earth-speakers used their weak smokes to bring unseen walls to the swamp. They built a fort in the space between spaces, hidden to all who see with unseeing eyes.
She pulls out a small scroll. The earth-talkers of the softskins as lanterns that would guide their paths. We have not found such smokes. But, we are the hexcrafters of the tribes! Verex has taught us to take what we will, and think crafty thoughts to conquer our foes! There are other smokes that Sezelrian has provided us, rituals that please the spirits and show the path to the spirit world where rests Varg's Thorn.
In the smoke encircled by the whirling seeing stones, the Crone opens the scroll of preserved elf skin and intones: Burn the dark, slay the pure; bind the screams to pave your road! She pushes her hand out through the smoke, and the scroll drops to the floor. Go, Bloodscreamer! Go to Ghostlight Marsh!
The flames and smoke whirl to a frenzy, and then blow out. The stones fall to the ground and the cavern is dark. Wordlessly, the witches all leave until Shakraal is left alone with her scroll.
Choot considers what was found in the Tomb.
.
The elf at the heel of Ihja Shadowbinder cackles and rocks back forth on its haunches drool flies from its chin. Your words ring true, Mouth of Zagresh! The Stain denied the power of Sezelrian's smoke, trusting only in Dretha's humors. She nods as Choot tells her of Uskroth's horde. Yes, Grenseldek sought the other half of Uskroth's Eye. She claimed it was a map. Ihja leans in, and the elf whispers. Is it?
Choot cackles with glee, "You are well informed indeed Ihja Shadowbinder! We believe it may be yes.
Tell me, what know you of this Grenseldek? Where it lies and what forces are arrayed around the being?"
The elf moans as the words of Ihja Shadowbinder trip from its lips. Grenseldek has claimed herself Chief of the Twisted Hearts. She thinks herself the blood of Uskroth, and has bound the Twisted Nail to the Heart Eaters, just as the Hero-Chief did of old. I know not why she desires the Eye of Uskroth, only that she is convinced it will afford her great power. Her tribe has claimed a fortress west of Urgir in the foothills of the Mindspin Mountains called Redlake Fort. She has filled it with her tribe, what little of it can hold. the rest, she keeps in tents about her fortress. She counts orcs, giants, and ogres among her horde.
Tell me Ihja Shadowbinder, know you anything else of this one's defenses. An Adept or Shaman we should be wary of for we shall bring a storm of blood to this Grenseldek just as we did Skreed!
Know that while Skreed did not value you my dear, Thoku shall, I will see to it that he does!"
Ihja Shadowbinder ponders for a moment, her elf pet sits on its haunches. Drool trails down from its slack jaw, and tears stain its cheeks from blank eyes. Then, the pet speaks once more. Yes. Droja is spirit-talker to the Twisted Nail orcs under Grendelsek's command. She is powerful, though not as strong as I. And, she has no love for the giants. She is the favored concubine of General Karrguk, leader and commander of the orcs under Grendelsek's banner. She treats the orcs as dogs, and favors her pet ogres and giants. The orcs chaff under their leash, Karrguk and Droja most of all. There will be blood, one day
She leans back and the elf moans and place its head on her lap. She idly pets it, scraping her clawed nails against its skin and drawing a few drops of blood, which the elf happily sucks from the tips of her nails. This is the wisdom of Ihja Shadowbinder! Go, now, shaman! Speak these words to our great Chief, that he may reclaim the honor of our people!
To Ozak: "A sound idea, cousin. You think clearly and without undue malice. I can appreciate that." He goes along and meticulously catalogues the riches they find, so as to report it back to Thoku.
Ozak shrugs. "Malice has it's place. But the battle is won, and to the victor go the spoils. No sense leaving gold lying on the field of battle once your enemies are dead!"
The House of the Builder of Walls is filled with gold and soft works of cloth, paint, and stone. At the end of the house, the Builder of Walls himself frowns down at the pillagers. The shamans teach that the images of the Chiefs of Fire and Blood are the gods. The Builder of Walls is his statue! The Chiefs in Fire and Blood demand his death!
"Destroy the image of Abadar, eh? All right then, but don't just have at it with your axes. I have a better plan!" Ozak grins. "Gather up a team of haulers! Round up slaves if you must! Let's move this frumpy old bastard to the edge!"
Ozak gets his men and any slaves they can corral ("liberating" a wagon if necessary) to haul the statue to the edge of the cliff - somewhere that the area below is both in sight of the orc camp and rocky.
"All right boys... over the edge he goes!"
The group pushes the statue over the edge, and it tumbles down to shatter on the rocks below.
"Dear Abadar," he shouts down at the rubble that was once the image of the Builder of Walls. "Thank you for building this fine city for us to plunder! HA HA HA HA HAA! The God of Cities builds walls, and our Lord In Iron tears them down again!"
Ozak returns to the camp with a big grin and a bounce in his step. He rejoins the revelry, this time with gusto. If he can find a woman to his liking (and he is picky - he won't just take any one) then he will take her aside and have his way with her if she is game. If there are wrestling matches or fistfights he will also participate, laughing with mirth at the chance for sporting combat.
To Ozak: "A sound idea, cousin. You think clearly and without undue malice. I can appreciate that." He goes along and meticulously catalogues the riches they find, so as to report it back to Thoku.Ozak shrugs. "Malice has it's place. But the battle is won, and to the victor go the spoils. No sense leaving gold lying on the field of battle once your enemies are dead!"
The House of the Builder of Walls is filled with gold and soft works of cloth, paint, and stone. At the end of the house, the Builder of Walls himself frowns down at the pillagers. The shamans teach that the images of the Chiefs of Fire and Blood are the gods. The Builder of Walls is his statue! The Chiefs in Fire and Blood demand his death!
"Destroy the image of Abadar, eh? All right then, but don't just have at it with your axes. I have a better plan!" Ozak grins. "Gather up a team of haulers! Round up slaves if you must! Let's move this frumpy old bastard to the edge!"
Ozak gets his men and any slaves they can corral ("liberating" a wagon if necessary) to haul the statue to the edge of the cliff - somewhere that the area below is both in sight of the orc camp and rocky.
"All right boys... over the edge he goes!"
The group pushes the statue over the edge, and it tumbles down to shatter on the rocks below.
"Dear Abadar," he shouts down at the rubble that was once the image of the Builder of Walls. "Thank you for building this fine city for us to plunder! HA HA HA HA HAA! The God of Cities builds walls, and our Lord In Iron tears them down again!"
Ozak returns to...
The villagers look truly beaten. Some of them cry openly. Others, just say quiet. no matter what, they're beaten, the fight is gone. They are a truly conquered people.
Thoku looks at the cattle kneeling before him, look at them so easily broken why not fight and face death with honor...these soft people I do hope there children will take the hatred and temper a fine blade... thoku looks at his tribe "Make a ring of spears and drop a few large rocks about the center of the ring..." thoku grabs one of the wemon his powerful grip holding her tight he drags her to the center of the ring and places a good sized rock in her hand...he dose the same to another man...then he pics both the child of the woman and the man...with clear malice he chains the children's neck and spikes the chain to the grown...."now it is left to you which one will be allowed to go free and which will live with us...your choice is only answered at the death of the other show it if only t save one of them from here..." thoku turns to the rest of the soft ones before him this way only the strongest will be wothry ... "don't loose hart yet you'll all be offered the same choice once this I done how many of your children will you save...ah..a hahaha " thoku turns to the orcs "let's have some sport eh, now bring me some meat"
-Posted with Wayfinder
Kern stands outside the circle, wishing Thoku had given the humans at least a pair of reasonable weapons instead of blunt rocks... bludgeoning someone to death with a rock is so much more gruesome than a knife fight. But he keeps his mouth shut, as he knows his chief's bloodlust would not stand to be questioned.
...and places a good sized rock in her hand...he dose the same to another man...