It was said that the world was filled with magic once, that there were flying beasts of great knowledge, that there was more than just Orcs and Humans who walked the surface and had great societies. There was even talk about how many beings have an innate ability to summon fire at their fingertips and create wondrous spells…
They all are just regarded as stories, myths and legends from old feeble minded souls who could not stand the brutality of reality. There was no magic, the lands were starving and there was always war. That is how it always was. Human and Orcs who served the Eternal Queen. Those who did not suffered.
The world was now in a constant state of bickering border squabbles. Feeble humans trying to grab land and power, as it always was. Eventually the orcs would be called in to quiet the storm by letting a blood river flow. It was what they were trained to do… bred to do. There purpose was to be the sword of the Queen, and never to question where or when she decided to use that weapon. In some form they had a similar freedom to what humans may have. They may die in battle the next day but it was better than dying to starvation or the whip of man. At least they had some autonomy under the Eternal Queen.
That’s what it has always been. Never mind the lunatics who speak of gods, or a single moon… much less other species!
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The sun was late in the sky, falling slowly into the eastern hills. The new moons were slowly crescendoing. The black stone keep was busy with activities of all your fellow orcs and regiments. It was just another day, a slow one at that. The week was rather quiet and there was no major conflicts that the regiments were sent for. It was these weeks that everyone got restless, and many regiments were doing volunteer patrols just in hopes they would find something to do. There was a minor bandit issue, but a regiment was already sent to deal with the nuisance just two days prior. They should be returning any day now and they would end up like everyone else, bored, but not just as bored as the rest.
The Black Swords regiment was stationed at the southern part of the keep, in a barracks building laying claim to the top most floor. The regiment had earn their right to that room to call home. The floor was sectioned into several areas, a den where many would lounge, the sleeping quarters, and then the armory. Many of the regiments past victories laid tacked to the wall and mounted, from stuffed beasts to skulls of notable enemies. The fire was alive in the fireplace, the logs crackling and spitting, breathing a nice heat into the room. Near the fireplace stood a cauldron, a soup or broth like liquid cooking from the heat.
The nights got rather cold, even during the depths of summer, as soon as the sun’s strength waned, fires would be lit around the keep. Tonights rotation didn’t include the regiment for watch, so it was another dull night, sometimes having renown could be boring...
Until there was a hard knock at the barracks door, a deep voice rumbling out, “Sir, your regiment has been called for duty, report to the front gates.”
Grung kept to the lounge more often that not. Given that the Regiment had been relieved of duty for the evening, Grung's particular chair was surrounded by an extra drug or two of ale.
He had already fallen asleep, half drank jug of ale still clutched tightly in his meaty fist when the knock was rattled off and the call to arms was given.
The sound was like a tickling to his ear, almost as if a fly had gotten in and pestered aggressively at him in particular. He snorted and rolled over a bit.
In the far right corner of the sleeping barracks stood a pile of kludged together wood and rope that roughly resembled an open cage or some kind of makeshift cave. Inside, laying on and wrapped in several large furs, lay Shattertooth. This house-forest suited him about as much as fire suited wood and he barely slept when the Regiment wasn't on patrol. Laying just outside the door was a huge cat. 200 pounds of clawed death slumbered like an innocent pet with it's paws clutching a horse's thigh bone.
The dwelling, for lack of a better term, was originally his cage quite literally. He had been purely feral, and that quality never quite left his eyes. In time he had been tamed by the tough and determined Orcs of this Regiment and he even spoke a basic style of Orc. As time passed he slowly turned his cage into a kind of cave with scraps smuggled in from the outside. His cave was probably the only place in the city that consistently smelled of wood and earth.
The hand on the door elicited an instant response from Shattertooth and his pet (which he called Fluffy). Both perked up and froze, trying to determine if the noise was a threat...
Gorthug was lying in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, when the knock came. He had no shoes on and was wearing naught but a torn pair of pants. But he had murder with him. It never left his side. If it wasn't strapped to his back it was in his hands. He even slept with it, hugging it close to him. At that moment it was lying on his stomach as he stared at the ceiling.
When the words echoed in, that there was a mission, he slowly rose. He looked at the door like a hawk might look at a rabbit. He said nothing, as he waited to hear more.
Perception:
Vruhag rolled from his bed at the first word from the messenger, battle trained reflexes bringing him to a fighting crouch with his dagger in hand. It took him a few seconds to calm the fire that had begun to rage in his heart before he could speak a response. He stood up and tossed the weapon on his bed before turning back to the darkened tent.
"AWAKE!! AWAKE YOU SLUGS, AWAKE!!!" the commander bellowed. Before waiting to see who would awaken he began to pull on his leather armor.
Without saying a word Gorthug begins to put on his clothes and armor. Such as they are. Simple studded leather. A quiver of arrows. An already packed ruck. A brutal looking club. He used to have a sword, but he lost it in an ill advised bet, and he didn't have the funds to buy anything better. The club was little more than a large piece of wood, barely carved into something that one could grip, and with nails hammered into it. A brutal tool, but it wasn't worthy of being called a weapon. And of course, murder, which was soon slung over his back.
Shattertooth emerges from his cave in the corner and starts strapping on his bone breastplate. It was made of overlapping layers of large shoulder bones strung together with sinew and leather. It was crude, but just as effective as any metal breastplate. That done he gathers his things and walks into the common area. Fluffy stretches and follows at his hip.
Grung snorts a bit and shakes his head as he starts to hear yelling, the pounding of feet, and the gathering of arms and armor. He opened one eye lazily, looked around seeing the stirring of the orcs that only a call to arms could inspire such energy.
He stood up, shook the jug in his hand and chugged down the rest of the ale before throwing the jug to the side to shatter on the wall. He dragged his arm over his maw, pulling away the spittle and dripped ale as he began sleepily walking over to the Armory.
He began pulling and shoving orcs out of his way to get to his gear. "Get your soddin ass out of my way before I decide to use you as my weapon." he said as he kicked at one of the smaller recruits.
He began strapping the scale mail onto his body before at last picking up and hefting the overly large axe and attaching the cord to it from his waist. He looked down at the bit of axe poking out to the side. He never had worked too hard to gather himself the materials needed for a right proper axe for battle, instead having picked this one up off the body of an orc who was far to small for the large weapon. Even his armor was second, possibly even third hand and only his skill at the forge had managed to adjust the mail to fit his larger profile.
Despite being the armorer for the regiment, he wore some of the poorest fitting and least kept of the group. Grung had been waiting, gathering the pieces of the armors he wished to forge into the proper suit to one day dawn and from there he'd strike fear forever as an impenetrable incarnation of death.
He stepped to the door and waited on his Leader to step out before he'd make his way out.
Gara was a bit of an oddball at the keep. She was second in command of the Black Sword, which got her a lot of respect. She also was a half orc, which meant almost all other orcs despised her. Together this meant that the keep was an incredibly safe place for her as, outside her own regiment, she was almost entirely ignored. The only way you'd realise she'd pass is that the soldiers made way for her. Whether that was out of respect or because disgust wasn't clear and it didn't matter.
While they others laid back and relaxed she was busy performing maintenance on her equipment. She had already tested and readjusted the string on her bow, had checked the fletchings on her arrows and was now checking her breastplate for imperfections.
When the call to arms came she sighed, put on her breastplate, grabbed her weapons and moved towards the entrance of their bunk, where she waited.
Guraka spends her evenings in a very curated nightly ritual. Unlike most of her companions, she demands order and predictability. She kneels next to her simple, well-made bed and pulls out a tray filled with a number of jars, satchels, vials and boxes. Running her hand over the tops of the treasures as if divining the perfect selection, she methodically pulls out five different mementos and rests them on the nightstand. After returning the objects to the underbed, she climbs in and rolls to face the trinkets. Tonight she had pulled one of her favorite kills - the severed vertebrae of a particularly nasty client. The flickering candle light dances throughout the juices of two of the jars.
Her ritual is sharply interrupted by the summons at the door. She gives a disgruntled snort and slides out of bed. She returns her treasures to her hiding spot and glides to the armory. She has a special trunk with her war gear. Sliding the simple leathers over her worn linens, she quickly prepares herself for duty. Her ancestral weapon, Knightsend, is clasped to her lower back, resting sideways over her hips. She takes another shortsword stolen from one of her kills and straps it just above. Avoiding the large brute, Grung, she steps off to the side of the door, waiting to pull in the rear.
Karuum normally was found in the barracks, sparring or practicing. He was mostly the norm for an orc, tall, broad and heavily muscled. However their was a keen sense of difference in the way he carried himself. An air of cold, calculation in his eyes far different to that of most of his more feral kin. His blows were never strengthened by raw might alone, no, precision played just as much a part in his strikes as his brute strength.
However, at the time, Karuum had been sitting near a table next to the wall in the main area, sharpening his blade after several hours of practice in the barracks. He was enjoying drinking a dark mead and eating a roasted leg of meat When he heard the news from the door. He lets out a rough Harumph before setting his blade down to don his polished, yet worn, armor and sling a small buckler over his back. Finally, some real action. he asks as he flicks his blade casually. His meal once again in his empty hand.
he nods his head to their commander. heard the news. Well, what are we to do this time?
The other orcs in the regiment would grunt but move out of Grung's way as none of them were stupid enough to try and pick a fight with him. His size had that affect on most of the orcs and the ones that were idiots who decided to try and pick a fight with them, would be the laughing stock of the keep.
A few orcs would gather near the door, awaiting Vruhag or Gara to approach. The larger orc would clear his throat, eagerness in his stance. "Be needed more then usual sir?" It was often that the regiment was sent on smaller dispatches and often times most of the orcs would be left at the barracks, they had rotations most of the time but it was often that a few lower rankers would be pulled along, as often they would pull long in the event losses were incurred they would still have the force to finish the mission. The trio that stood, ready for battle were eager to prove themselves and attempt to grow in the ranks of the regiment. "Were eager to stretch our legs and go for a jaunt out of the keep."
Sending one last withering glare at the last of the soldier's to rise Vruhag pushed his way through the gathering orcs. He glanced over his shoulder to see where Gara, his lieutenant, had gotten to. Once he spotted her he motioned with a jerk of his head for her to join him. He yanked the door open and held out a hand for the messenger to place the scroll in. Once that had happened he slammed the door shut in the messenger's face and moved over to the officer's area where there was a writing desk and small lamp. He broke the seal and quickly scanned the contents of the scroll. He rolled the scroll back up before tucking it into a round scroll case attached to the belt that went across his chest.
"Kit up, seek and destroy with a secondary of search/recovery. Prepare accordingly." he said curtly to the gathered soldiers. "We meet at the main gate in one hour."
Shattertooth smiled down at Fluffy. Seek and destroy was their favorite game. He turns back to his cave and packs up for a hike. Seeking usually took a while if they were called in. Most of the time the prey had already gone to ground and had to be rooted out.
He is one of the first out the door. Fluffy follows at his hip.
Already prepared to leave, and without any command authority, Gorthug does as he is told and leaves for the main gate.
Guraka watches as Vruhag takes the missive and reads it out. Acknowledging their orders, she returns to her bed, pulls out her stash of organic trinkets, and removes a milky white ring made of woven tendons. It provided something to occupy her hands while she awaited a mission. She always grew anxious before setting out.
She returns to the main door, stopping before Vruhag, "I'll will be waiting at the gates, chief." When she leaves the barracks, she takes to the shadowed roads, avoiding the busy main streets even if it means a longer walk. Her leathers are worn loosely - undone in some places, loosely tied in others - offering her some respite from the suffocating armor in the overhead sun. She keeps a hand resting on the handle of her blade as she approaches navigates the keep. Once at the front gates, Guruka finds herself a shady place to crouch and reflect on the treasure she'll collect from the mission.
Shattertooth also avoids the press of the main roads. He was solitary for most of his life and that habit is one that takes time to change. He enjoys the company of his regiment, true, but so many unknown others in such close proximity made both him and Fluffy nervous. And a nervous Shattertooth meant injuries.
He keeps well away and circles the edge of the camp, staying as close to the outside wilds as he can.
When he arrives at the gate several of the regiment are already there. He falls in with them and glares at anyone who gets too close.
Grung slams the door wide open at the words seek and destroy. That was all he needed to hear, almost forgetting the need for the location to meet. He paused, heard, and was over run by the feral Orc in his attempt to be the first one out.
He cursed and stomped after Shattertooth claiming rights to first kill and nonsense that would soon be forgotten before they arrived at their mission proper.
He strode through the encampment singing loudly and proudly something along the lines of "The Orcs go marching one by one hurrah hurrah" in Orcish as he makes his way to the front gate eager to get out of this stifling environment and into the wilds and the woods.
During the regiments move to the gates, many orcs had gotten out of the way of the progression. Some eagerly looking on, while others made bets. It was the normalcy as it was one way to derive some form of entertainment besides the small tournies and drinking. The orcs who were eager to follow the regiment did so, the trio quickly marching in line with Grung.
As everyone approached the gate of the keep, there stood a throng of orcs, another regiment that returned, though was not the one that was expected to return. A commander stood, though the only way one could tell he had rank above everyone in the keep was how he held himself and none the less yelling orders at idle orcs. He was grizzly, older and been a veteran of many battles, more then most orcs can count up to. He wore his armor which was a mix of plate and leather. The plate was dipped in red paint which made a much more visual striking appearance.
He noticed the regiment approach and his eyes went to Grung with some scrutiny. "Boisterous as always eh?" he grumbled before shaking his head.
Grung looked upon the Commander and smiled a bit, tusks showing heavily. It is true that this orc had earned his spot in the keep but he still was not his leader. He licked his lips hungrily for the battle to come. "Of course I am boisterous, death has not come to claim me yet but has issued me an errand. I walk tall and will drink of the blood of my enemies soon enough...is that not cause to be Boisterous?" he said with some emphasis on the last word.
Shattertooth just looks at the exchange and silently wills the gates to open.
Guruka watches as the orcs from her regiment fall in. Like all subjects under her scrutiny, she notes every little detail and quirk about their character, as she may one day need to leverage a weakness or call on a strength. She snarls as the boastful orc greats the commander.
It's that sort of foolishness that costs lives on a mission... she thinks to herself.
Gara simply nodded at the orders and then continued grabbing her last few things before going out the door and heading for the meeting place.
While she made her way to the gates almost all eyes were averted the moment they detected her. It made her crack a smile. In the first weeks they spat at her feet. The only orc that dared spit in her face was now called 'One-Eye'. No, this mix of disgust, fear and a little respect was much better.
Once at the gates she salutes the other commander and shakes her head at Grung's retort. The big lug would never learn.
Karuum gives a slight roll of his eyes at the exchange, but gives no remark to either. Letting out a sigh, ready to be on their way to what hopefully would prove a rewarding fight.
As the hour came to an end Vruhag could be seen walking towards the front gate. He was fully armored with a heavy cloak, heavy bow and massive axe hanging from the sides of the large pack that hung from his shoulders. At his side marched a large wolf with grey and black fur, it's shoulders equal to his hips. As the pair came close the wolf eyed the large cat that stood next to Shattertooth, his lip coming up in a slight snarl. A sharp command from Vruhag tempered the wolf's aggression and it padded along silently next to him as they came up to the assembled party. The commander looked around to ensure everyone was present before looking at the gate guard. "Where the hell are my orders!?"
The Warcat regarded the Wolf with the cool indifference that is the signature of cats large and small.
The commander at the gate wasn't too pleased by the outburst of Vruhag, a scowl quickly made it apparent, "Watch your town Vruhag, I'm here to brief you on this mission and it's my orders you will be receiving." He shook his head as a hand rested on the weapon at his hip, [b]"Now its about a troublesome bandits up north that have set up camp in one of the outskirt farms of a town. They have put themselves in a good foothold and the kingdom has been chasing them for awhile, but due to the recent war with their neighbors that haven't been able to send forces to clear them out."
His eyes scanned the troop assembled before continuing, "This part is simple, kill them, route them, do whatever but make sure they are gone. Secondary is that a regiment has gone missing, or rogue. We do not know and our scouts haven't found much but old campsites on preliminary searches. We've heard no reports of any roaming armed orc bands either. So if you come across their trail, investigate it and return. If they have gone rogue and you encounter them, you know what to do." The final words had a heavy tone to it. It was never pleasant having to kill your own, especially a regiment, but there was no room for orcs outside of the keep, it was the only way to keep your head.
"You have a week to do this, if you fail to report back within a week we will send a retrieval regiment."
Shattertooth rocks slightly from one for to the other in anticipation. Talkytalkytalky - open the hole to outside already!
While the general explained the mission Vruhag took the rolled scroll from the orc's hand and began to read it for himself. While the general mission was being explained to the squad the specifics were written down in the scroll. Soon he had the names of all of the missing orcs as well as the information about the town. He rolled the scroll back up and slipped it into a bag hanging on his hip. Once the general was finished Vruhag saluted smartly before motioning for Gorthug to head out first. "Maintain 50 foot lead. Karuum maintain rear position. Move out!"
Grung heard Vruhag coming before he saw him and had a bit of a evil grin upon his face. He licked his lips as he listened to the two bark at each other a bit before came the two words that he was waiting for.
He let his blood boil over for a brief moment as Vruhag said the word out and landed his hands solidly on the gate.
He heaved and pushed with his might, not caring that if he was patient, he'd be rewarded with it's opening on his own.
Grung grunted and pushed with his eagerness to leave. He knew he'd not stay in front long as he could easily be out paced by his fellow orcs. But the itch for battle and the desire to be outside these walls was too much for almost any orc to bear for long and his Regiment had beared it long enough.
Once opened, he let out a guttural roar before stomping out of keep.
Shattertooth is right behind the point orcs as they depart.
The gate groaned loudly as it was being forced open by one single orc.The hill giant, so aptly named managed to heave the gate into a locked position, allowing himself out and the rest of the regiment. Some of the orcs were surprised at the guttural strength of Grung while others, just expected it, the commander was one who didn't even flinch with his act, in fact he was already on his way out.
The land before them was as always, soft rolling hills, tall grass in either direction, it was more of a Savanna then anything, though a looming forest sat quite far to the north and slightly to the west.
The sun was slowly setting, casting a soft pink hue over the world. It would be night soon.
Gara sighed as Grung opened the gate and was about to kill him back when she saw his action apparently got the silent approval of their commander. With that she just shook her head, drew her bow and followed her fellows.
Shattertooth nearly runs out of the fort and only slows up when he has nearly overtaken the point unit. The release was palpable.
Guruka couldn't help but be impressed by the might of Grung. She might despise his antics, but such strength is a sight to see. Glad he's on our side, she thought to herself. Falls into formation with the others, taking up position near the rear, ahead of Karuum. Her excitement would come after the kill, not before...
Pleased to be free from the stifling camp, Gorthug moves out ahead of the group. Heading north, he scanned the area as he went, looking for any signs of their quarry.
There was nothing out of the ordinary during the trek to the last known location of the former Regiment. It was already night as you approached the old camp site. Most of the tracks that were plainly visible were of the former scout party. A good portion of the campsite was disturbed by shoddy work and it was unclear exactly if the movement was of the former regiment or the previous scouting party.
The campsite still had a fire pit, though mostly destroyed at this point by animals or the previous group, it was quite hard to tell. Most of the cooking equipment remained, some pots and pans, obviously discarded scraps of food that were stuck to the cookware.
It was obvious as that the previous Regiment didn't continue north, as the brush and grass remained undisturbed. It was quite hard for a larger, more inexperienced regiment to actually hide their tracks well. So it was immediately obvious that they either took a detour or something else had happened to them as the bandits location is due North.
Grung enters the camp and makes his way to the fire pit. He looks over the cookware and the like and decides that it is still usable so he simply starts packing it back up in his own pack for future use.
"Tracks. Old. Going east, to the forest." His voice was dispassionate, with only a slight hint of excitement. He didn't know why they didn't go north, and truth told he didn't care. He had something to track, and one way or another would have something to kill.
Shattertooth confirms the finding with a grunt.
Gara nodded, "Good. Have your beasts aid in the tracking as well. Their noses are an asset."
Grung snorts as he stands up with the extra gear in his pack. "They're pulling a runner. No one leaves behind their means of feeding their men without plans of never returning. Either they felt they were gonna do something suicidal or they didn't want people to think they still lived." he said as he bothered a bit with the pit some more.
He stretched a bit once he seemed done with his work. "Shame the fools couldn't at least us their useful gear. Now I feel like I have to go and gather it proper." he said as he turned about and stared at the others trying to figure out if they'd found anything better besides going into the forest.
"Oi...we supposed to take care of the Bandits first or these idiots?" he asked confused.
Shattertooth looks up from his searching for the answer.
"Commander said bandits are our main priority. Figuring out what those blundering fools did is secondary. If we're lucky both end up being the same and the bandits killed them or took them prisoner."
She then turned to Shattertooth, "Now get your cat to use his nose. There must be a scent trail." She then turned to her commanding officer with a somewhat pleasing look. She couldn't order him to let his wolf help but she hoped he understood.
Shattertooth whistles to Fluffy and the warcat starts sniffing around.