It takes the better part of the day, sifting through the fragile scrawlings of human words. Paper was so pointless! It was weak and flimsy. Easily torn, and easily burned. Flesh, now there was strength! A tanned hide, a stretched skin, even the living flesh of a slave, all were better than paper! They showed the strength and power of the writer, as well as his skill with Sezelrian's gifts.
Despite feeling unclean at the touch of paper on his skin, Choot manages to learn that, yes the Hero Chief is buried here. Bloodmarch Hill is hollow and surrounds a massive cave. It was discovered at the founding of the town, during another battle with the Twisted Nail tribe, but was covered up when the horrors within descended on the birthing town. The entryway lays somewhere on the top of the Hill. They marked the entryway with a great statue of the goddess, that she may be ever watchful over their hearts and lives.
The family nods amidst many thanks for his "kindness and understanding" and wanders off. None of the humans pay Thoku's words any mind, but several of the half-orc laborers in the bazarre give him sidelong and angry glances.
Whispered to Thoku away from prying ears,
"Maybe some of our kin would amiable to our cause, perhaps they are not completely infected with humanity and may be of some use to us? Also perhaps we should scout this town for weapon strongholds and arcane cashes?"
Thoku thumps Kraq square on his chest "Yes then you stay here and gather any information you can. We will go to the cemetery and look for a way into the cave... if there is one...join us once Choot and Kern return"
Choot closes the book and heads away from the library to find the Stalwart.
"Good evening Stalwart. I fear the light has run out and I must be finding an Inn to rest my weary head. It seems these books have a great deal to offer one who would appreciate the Art of our Lady. I red tell one of the oldest in the city stands on the top of Bloodmarch Hill, could you tell me where it is precisely? I should like to admire it with my own eyes before I move n from the city".
The Stalwart smiles at Choot and his bodyguard. It is a weak, and puny smile, only showing the lips and no teeth. He does not show his dominance to the shaman or Kern. Yes, Stalwart, there are three such statues to Sword Maiden. One stands in the center of the cemetery standing watch over our fallen brothers and sisters, a beacon of Hope to the departed souls. Another stands here, in our temple, watching over the souls of the faithful. He gestures to the tall statue of Iomedae looking over the benches. A third stands at the pool, just outside our doors, where Hope springs eternal. Each of them should ease your soul
The human boneyard was a pitiful thing. It was filled with grave markers and statues of the fallen. Some showed the faces of warriors, if warriors they could be called. They were weak and puny things: spindly arms, and soft faces. They didn't even have scars! In the center of the cemetery stands a large outcropping, and rising from it is a weathered and worn statue of Iomedae. Her sword is thrust high into the air, and her feathered wings spread wide.
Giving a nod to Choot, Kraq turns and walks off rubbing his feeble chest, looking for a group of half-orcs and attempting to find a place were they socialize without the baby skinned humans.
"Do you know where I can get a few drinks with my kin?"
Kraq asks with a grin to a group of half-orcs.
A half-breed clad in leggings made of the weak cloth of the human's grunts and folds his thick arms over his bared chest. He eyes Kraq suspiciously for a second, weighing him like a true Orc. It's a weak and pathetic attempt, he doesn't snarl or show his scars to measure who is the greater, but he does hold some memory of how a true orc should act! Aye. The Bleeding Cleft is in a cave in the back of Low Town. No humans welcome. You'll find it between two dragonsblood trees on the south side of the cliffs. Ask for Chaga.
Then, a gnome with hair the color of Rull's Bridge, commands his attention with his bird-twittering voice and mewling giggles. He offers the half-orcs gold to build his house, and they nod walking off.
Kern follows Choot to "admire" the statues. He whispers "What is our next play? Do we expect the statues of these weak gods to actually give us insight?"
"Ah, very good, brother. Let us make haste and view these puny statues."
Shakraal stares at the statue. Her eyes squint, as if trying to remember something. Then she grimaces.
"I overheard some pinkskin churls mentioning some kind of outrage they were planning. Some ruse to make our half-orc brethren look...evil...more evil than usual. I think they plan to sabotage whatever pathetic ritual coincides with this disgusting interment of broekn and dead bone and flesh into the ground..."
Following the directions given to him from the watered down orc protoplasm, Kraq heads into the bar, moving up to the bar and asks whomever is behind it if Chaga is around.
The nearest statue of the sword goddess stands tall and proud on a small spit of land jutting form the base of a rocky outcropping at the shore of a small pool of water. The water is cool and clear, nothing like the muddy puddles so common to amongst the Badlands of Belkzen. It is a small wonder the humans are so weak, if they do not need to fight for even the most basic necessity of water. How can they for strong if the weak are not culled?
The Bleeding Cleft is a dark cut in the cliff heading deep I tot the hill. Smoke from a cookout and torches hangs thick in the air, stinging eyes and filling the nose with their sour reek. Several half-breeds, bare-chested or covered in rough leather, sit at benches drinking mugs of ale and beer.
As Kraq asks for Chaga, the barkeep points towards a heavily scarred and tattooed half-orc sitting in the corner. His body is covered in the stories of combats, his life proving his strength and power.
"I have not, brother. Though my axe may have the length required."
If his orc double-axe is long enough, Kern will test the ground with it.
Thoku scans the area around them
Turning to shakraal
"you say the there will be a few pink ones trying to cause more strife in with our blood...hmm then it will be up to you three to end them. I will have to keep this face when this pathetic excuse for a burial takes place. With that I can come to your defence if the need is there, calling for your vindication as you saved my life of something along that."
Spitting on the ground thoku covers his glorious forme with a heavy cloak
-Posted with Wayfinder
Shakraal nods.
"I do so like to... end things..."
Hakak trailed silently after Kraq. He disliked all this talk, but the tribe had agreed to it. The weak ones were many, they few. On seeing Chaga, Hakak nodded his approval. This one had tasted battle.
"Your marks show your might," Hakak said by way of greeting.
Kern thrusts his axe into the brush about the base of the statue, sending up aromatic scents from the leaves. The odors are strong and cloying, like the powders shamans and oracles burn to speak with the Chiefs in Fire and Blood. But, there is no smoke, offerings of flesh and blood, so the pathetic prayers these humans must utter fall on the deaf ears of their impotent gods. The Sword Goddess smiles down at the orcs. Typical human. Kindness does not end war! Mercy is weakness. The weak are enslaved to the strong. Only the strong are brave enough to die and face Zagresh. Only the strong can be enslaved to the Chiefs in Fire and Blood.
Viciously, he pushes about the cliff behind the statue, thumping rock and bush alike. There can be nothing here. Humans are... There! Yes! Kern stumbles forward as he dislodges a small stone and he sinks his axe deep into the cliff side. He has found the cave! It's narrow, everyone will have to walk sideways in, and Thoku will be a tight squeeze, but they should all be able to thrust their strength into the tomb. But, the opening is tightly filled with stones cemented with hard-baked mud. It will take hours of careful cleaning to open the cleft without having the whole thing tumble atop them, or hopelessly filling in the opening.
The soft earth of the dead-land gives easily to the might of orc muscles. Stupid humans! They bury Zagresh's hoard in the earth, instead of sending them to the Chiefs in Fire and Blood through flame and smoke. The gods may live in the Great Caves, but only smoke and the spirits can send one there. It is known. It takes an hour, far less than had they been cursed with human weakness, but the grave is dug and prepared. It is a stupid thing, burying the dead, but they must use Verex's wiles to uncover the Tomb and bring low the human town. Verex teaches to be crafty, to bend truth and minds like Varg bends steel and Nulgreth rends flesh.
Their ruse complete, they are free to search for the tomb.
All day they search, the Burning Angel spilling her cursed light across the blue cavern as Nulgreth rips and tears at her flesh, until, finally, her blood stains the sky red and her corpse sinks beneath the horizon once more. Sezelrian's fires burn in the sky, foretelling the dooms o the Tribe of the Bleeding Storm. They must paint a good fate for Thoku's people, for the Fire God has blinded his own Cold Eye this night, to hide the Tribe's deeds.
Shakraal and Thoku search about the statue, poking it, shoving it at times, digging about the rocky outcropping it stands again. Nothing. The statue does not move, and there is no cave for them to find. The graveyard holds only the rotting corpses of weak humans, not a passage to the tomb of a great Hero-Chief.
"Your marks show your might," Hakak says by way of greeting. Chaga grunts and thumps his chest with his fist. The scar he grazes is fresh, three long claw marks like those from a bear running down his chest and across his belly.
As do yours He replies in the tongue of the humans, but his mouth twists as though he finds it ill-fitting behind his tusks. You are strong to have broken such a beast to your will. He points to Fleshripper, his muscles bulging and rippling with even that simple task. Chaga has faced many of the thunder lizards in the mountains, he flexes and several teeth marks prominently stand out. They're clearly made from large larger versions of Fleshripper. What do you wish of Chaga? This time, he addresses both Kraq and Hakak.
[ooc[don't worry about exact timing, basically, when everyone meets back up again, everything will be the way it's supposed to be. right now we have 1) funeral to deal with, 2) the doorway to the tomb potentially found, but issues with getting in, 3) some nasty businesses planned with some street toughs in Trunau (this will happen when everyone's together, so don't worry about missing some action), 4) an impending attack from Skreed's horde that you guys seemed interested in... acquiring, 5) some racial tension in Trunau that you guys wanted to exploit.
have fun
[/ooc]
"Yes. It was not easy to find. We will need to work diligently to clear the way, as well. It may be best to do so by night."
"I will need to kill many to assuage this anger I have inside me...What now, great chief?"
Thoku awaits the rest of his clan the cemetery
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Fleshripper is fierce, but knows his place. Every night he tries for my throat," Hakak said fondly.
Chaga laughs, bearing his fangs and tusks to Fleshripper and Hakak. Good! You have a strong beast and you prove your strength well to it! The Slave Lord would be proud! He bites his finger and inscribes Lanistra's sign on his bare chest in his own blood. [bTell Chaga why you have come to the Bleeding Cleft![/b] He guides Hakak to lean against a wall with a small shelf cut in to it. BARKEEP! Three blood grog for me, the smoke-speaker, and the master of fierce Fleshripper!
Choot and Kern wind their way through the pathetic village back to the cemetery and their chief. Children run and scamper through the streets like rabbits. No adult slaps them or commands them to stalk each other like wolves. They teach their whelps to be as prey! No wonder humans are so easily slain. They allow weak habits to grow in them even from the start. They pass dung sweepers and laborers, who are given coin for their work, and bear not the tight collars of slavery. Some are even embraced as equals! One male, with the marks of a strong warrior, even embraces one of the workers as his own son with a look of pride! Everywhere the shaman and hunter turn they see weakness and doom.
Most of the crowds filling the streets do, however, part as Choot walks past in his guise as a male slave of the Maiden's Sword. At least they have some fear of their shamans. Although, several of the citizens call on him to bless him with kind words and prayers to the Goddess. How has she not slain them with her brand? She must be too busy riding herself upon her blade.
Finally, the two make their way through the gates. The guards, such as they are, remind Choot and Kern that they must return with the funeral party or wait until dawn, once the sun has set. Cowards.
The two finally reunite with their chief and hexcrafter just as Shakraal has finished cursing the earth and ill-luck. The dirt withers beneath the power of her wroth. The Burning Angel, once more, has been torn from the sky, and the Sezelrian's flames burn bright in the Great Cavern. The gates slam shut with a thunderous boom. Now, they have a few hours to wait.
Choot approaches Thoku, "Chieftan, Kern and I have discovered the very place in which the secrets of our people remain buried. The humans have knowledge of the place and have carelessly left it within their books! Kern's mighty weapon has uncovered the passage! It is within the ground of the pitiful human Goddess of something or other. Right there for the taking it is, still we may need a distraction to allow all of us to enter the place without questions asked. My disguise easily fooled the priest, a feeble old man who should have long ago been slain. I am sure that disguise can be used to gain easy access again".
"You have done well full-blood - our ancestor's be proud of your wit and wisdom! Well done Kern -verily thee hast brought our fledgling tribe closer to mastery of the lands."
Shakraal remembers that the Bloody One, not herself, is chief, and bows, withdrawing slightly to the side...
"Is that not right, Mighty Thoku?"
Hakak sat.
"It is strange to be with so many humans," he said, voice neutral. "I hear words: they teach whelps to slay themselves."
[spoiler=Chaga with Hakak and Kraq]
Aye, they teach weakness. They teach their spawn to be prey, not to fight.
[
Thokus blood lust could be felt when Shakraal spoke in his place but decided not to rip into her this time...
"Hmm, yes the gods have blessed your discovery and must have sent us here if only to cleanse more of the soft ones. We must keep the shadow over our self's and complete what we are here to do. Choot and i will stay insight you two keep an eye out for a few attempting to attack this pathetic ritual by hiding there weakness masking them self's as one of Orc blood. For it is not yet the time to brake this city.."
Soon, the Sezelrian's burning flames are bright in the night sky, and Thoku's keen ears detect the sound of a procession of mourners approaching the graves. First, come the father and mother, walking at the front of the procession. They both are dressed in white, fools! A scout, even the drunken mongrels of the cloven fist or the pathetic Twisted Nail could spot the weaklings. They mewl like wounded animals or lost sheep. They are prey and make themselves easy for the slaughter.
The female clings to the male, dragging him down with her weakness. And, he wipes shameful tears from his eyes like a gelding. Behind him walk three sons, each strong of body, but soft of face. They, too, release shameful waters. Following them are several men and women, all moaning and sobbing, making a loud noise to the night. Any of countless predators would be drawn to the noise and find them ripe for eating.
They carry lanterns and torches to light their path. Each of them bears a light, and the whole of the hill glows as though the Burning Angel herself were spreading her foul colors upon the sky.
The sons each carried a coffin and set it in the grave Thoku and Shakraal dug.
Thank you for your kind words! They all dab at their eyes and walk away. Again, their wailings can be heard form the town.
Choot whispers to Thoku, "The sooner the better we break in and claim our prize unless we wish to summon our brethren to attack and feed them a false site to investigate should they manage to break these walls, the only things of strength left in this pathetic wretched place..."
Thoku grips choots shoulder a bit to hard and replies "worry not we will go right after this no need to hold for daybreak "
-Posted with Wayfinder
The Tribe of the Bleeding Storm make their way back into the weak town. Their footfalls are silent, and stir only soft puffs of dust from the dry soil about the town. They are not the weaklings that hide behind the walls.
As they enter the town square, the cries of a small boy ring in the night air. Six half-orcs stand with weapons drawn.
"Get the twerp!! Stupid humans!"
"Ya!"
Torchlight glistens off the bared steel of brandished longswords.
Choot Othul:
Hakak:
Kern Dead-Eye:
Kraq Skysplitter:
Shakraal Kringsdaughter:
Thoku Blood Drinker:
Thugs:
[ooc]see the Map: Brawl in Trunau!
-Posted with Wayfinder
Perception
Choot shouts at the "Orcs", "You lot, away from that boy! And wipe that paint off of your faces, all know that true Orcs have mighty tusks which you sorely lack! Do not make me teach you a lesson..."
He enforces his command to leave with the casting of the spell Cause Fear!
Fiends! Amateur cannibals! Slaves to weak passion! Tuskless vermin, that prey on the weakest."