Introduction
Theme
This roleplay is about the other's perspective. In many fantasy stories adventurers carve through armies of orcs and goblins without a thought. They burn giant villages to the ground yet coincidentally never see a female troll or a baby ogre. Monsters must have lives of their own and I for one am tired of all this proadventurer propaganda that seeks to objectify them into clawed, fanged killing machines. It's time to tell the story from their perspective.
Setting
Eldrath is as high fantasy as you can get and avoid copyright infringement. The heart of the 'civilization' lies in the east and dominates a single continent separated from the rest of the world by vast oceans. Meanwhile to the west lieas an untamed wilderness of swamp and forest split by high rising peaks. Here civilization only has a foothold, in the form of colonies loyal to their rulers across the sea. Many monstrous species call this wilderness home, but the elven, human and dwarven settlers from the east threaten to exterminate them and end their traditional lives. Some species, notably the goblins of the south eastern swamps, have already been evicted from their lands and forced onto 'reservations.'
Characters
I will allow any common fantasy monster as a player race. The first person to submit a character of a given race MUST also submit a description of that species. If I accept I will expect the player to add his monster species description to the OOC thread titled Monsters Manual. New players wanting to play that race may then consult that thread and build upon what has already been laid down. I realize that traditionally I am supposed to feed you detailed descriptions of the races, but for this RP I want the player to take a more active role in building the world. I will, of course, create NPC races when the story requires it and I will create one player race, goblins, so that people who wish to avoid this process have an option.
Within fantasy monsterdom there exists much diversity. I am expanding this diversity exponentially by allowing you to describe the species yourself. For this reason, if after having been granted all this variety, you come to me with the desire to play a wereyak, a bandersnatch, jaberwocky or some other preposterous thing you will have succeeded in annoying me. Show me your creativity my expanding on existing archetypes and not by submitting something entirely new and entirely retarded.
Power
Many RPs try to make all the characters of equal power as if this will somehow magically make power-players more mature. I do not do this because it is fake and presupposes that my players are idiots. However, I will warn folks that if you want to play something like a dragon or a giant, you best be mature enough not get carried away. Also be forewarned that it will be the weak monsters who will find their way to the center of the plot. Powerful characters can be very cool, but it's the weak characters who have the most room to grow and change throughout the story.
The 'Good' Guys
...Are not so good. From poaching unicorns for their horns to slaughtering unarmed villages of goblins, adventurers span the gamut of evil. Even more despicable is their portrayal of themselves as shining heroes, the stars of many popular novels back east. Elves, dwarves, and humans (who constitute 99% of adventurers) share a singular arrogance in believing the world was made for their peoples alone. They think nothing of exterminating an entire species just to make room for another county in their ever expanding kingdoms. Among themselves, they are the 'civilized' races, but to the monsters they are the 'crusader' races, those species whose hunger for land, wealth, and fame can never be sated.
Although humans, elves and dwarves are all despicable, they achieve this in their own particular idiom. Humans, as you might already know, are greedy and opportunistic. They love to put their enemies off guard by espousing lofty ideologies and principles, then when the time is right they drop all such ethics and go for the jugular. Gifted with the ability to believe even their own bull-shit, humans have tricked as many monsters into signing away their land as they have driven off it. Thankfully for them, when confrontations can not be weaseled out of humans can rely on a powerful arsenal of clerical magic and fanatical knights to smite their foes. Religious in the extreme nearly all believe they were created in the image of God with all other life added to the planet as a footnote.
Though far more honest than humans, elves make up for their lack of deceit with extreme arrogance. Even among the civilized races elves are considered arrogant and most elves find reasons to look down their long noses at other elves as well. They even worship themselves, with the elven royal family considered a divine pantheon. Commanding ancient arcane magic elves easily annihilate any race who might question their status as most beautiful, intelligent, artistic, compassionate, etc., etc. Among monsters, elves are most notorious for their trapping and hunting activities. The demands of elven wizards for exotic spell components drive the prices on things like unicorn horn and wyvern claw sky high and motivate hordes of hunters to invade the wilderness in search of them.
Dwarves may have no souls, but if they didn't they wouldn't care. For a dwarf everything physical has a monetary value be this a shipment of ore or a shipment of people and anything not physical might as well not exist. Merchants without equal they see the wilderness as a fruit tree ripe for the picking. Many of their confrontations have been with the Giants who take issue with dwarves strip mining their homeland for some strange reason.
Before you ask, yes you can play one of the above races, but this means you will probably be playing as a villain. I will accept one 'monster-lover' type character, but no more than that since monsters are almost universally reviled by 'civilized' folk.
Story
The story is entirely dependent on what people decide to play and what they choose to do in story. As a result I can tell you nothing about it at this time.
My GMing Philosophy
I believe in player freedom. I think of myself as a hands off deity. Yes I will introduce elements which stimulate drama and/or action, but I have no expectations in regards to any character's decisions. The future events of this RP are as much a mystery to me as they are to you and that's exactly how I like it.
This roleplay is about the other's perspective. In many fantasy stories adventurers carve through armies of orcs and goblins without a thought. They burn giant villages to the ground yet coincidentally never see a female troll or a baby ogre. Monsters must have lives of their own and I for one am tired of all this proadventurer propaganda that seeks to objectify them into clawed, fanged killing machines. It's time to tell the story from their perspective.
Setting
Eldrath is as high fantasy as you can get and avoid copyright infringement. The heart of the 'civilization' lies in the east and dominates a single continent separated from the rest of the world by vast oceans. Meanwhile to the west lieas an untamed wilderness of swamp and forest split by high rising peaks. Here civilization only has a foothold, in the form of colonies loyal to their rulers across the sea. Many monstrous species call this wilderness home, but the elven, human and dwarven settlers from the east threaten to exterminate them and end their traditional lives. Some species, notably the goblins of the south eastern swamps, have already been evicted from their lands and forced onto 'reservations.'
Characters
I will allow any common fantasy monster as a player race. The first person to submit a character of a given race MUST also submit a description of that species. If I accept I will expect the player to add his monster species description to the OOC thread titled Monsters Manual. New players wanting to play that race may then consult that thread and build upon what has already been laid down. I realize that traditionally I am supposed to feed you detailed descriptions of the races, but for this RP I want the player to take a more active role in building the world. I will, of course, create NPC races when the story requires it and I will create one player race, goblins, so that people who wish to avoid this process have an option.
Within fantasy monsterdom there exists much diversity. I am expanding this diversity exponentially by allowing you to describe the species yourself. For this reason, if after having been granted all this variety, you come to me with the desire to play a wereyak, a bandersnatch, jaberwocky or some other preposterous thing you will have succeeded in annoying me. Show me your creativity my expanding on existing archetypes and not by submitting something entirely new and entirely retarded.
Power
Many RPs try to make all the characters of equal power as if this will somehow magically make power-players more mature. I do not do this because it is fake and presupposes that my players are idiots. However, I will warn folks that if you want to play something like a dragon or a giant, you best be mature enough not get carried away. Also be forewarned that it will be the weak monsters who will find their way to the center of the plot. Powerful characters can be very cool, but it's the weak characters who have the most room to grow and change throughout the story.
The 'Good' Guys
...Are not so good. From poaching unicorns for their horns to slaughtering unarmed villages of goblins, adventurers span the gamut of evil. Even more despicable is their portrayal of themselves as shining heroes, the stars of many popular novels back east. Elves, dwarves, and humans (who constitute 99% of adventurers) share a singular arrogance in believing the world was made for their peoples alone. They think nothing of exterminating an entire species just to make room for another county in their ever expanding kingdoms. Among themselves, they are the 'civilized' races, but to the monsters they are the 'crusader' races, those species whose hunger for land, wealth, and fame can never be sated.
Although humans, elves and dwarves are all despicable, they achieve this in their own particular idiom. Humans, as you might already know, are greedy and opportunistic. They love to put their enemies off guard by espousing lofty ideologies and principles, then when the time is right they drop all such ethics and go for the jugular. Gifted with the ability to believe even their own bull-shit, humans have tricked as many monsters into signing away their land as they have driven off it. Thankfully for them, when confrontations can not be weaseled out of humans can rely on a powerful arsenal of clerical magic and fanatical knights to smite their foes. Religious in the extreme nearly all believe they were created in the image of God with all other life added to the planet as a footnote.
Though far more honest than humans, elves make up for their lack of deceit with extreme arrogance. Even among the civilized races elves are considered arrogant and most elves find reasons to look down their long noses at other elves as well. They even worship themselves, with the elven royal family considered a divine pantheon. Commanding ancient arcane magic elves easily annihilate any race who might question their status as most beautiful, intelligent, artistic, compassionate, etc., etc. Among monsters, elves are most notorious for their trapping and hunting activities. The demands of elven wizards for exotic spell components drive the prices on things like unicorn horn and wyvern claw sky high and motivate hordes of hunters to invade the wilderness in search of them.
Dwarves may have no souls, but if they didn't they wouldn't care. For a dwarf everything physical has a monetary value be this a shipment of ore or a shipment of people and anything not physical might as well not exist. Merchants without equal they see the wilderness as a fruit tree ripe for the picking. Many of their confrontations have been with the Giants who take issue with dwarves strip mining their homeland for some strange reason.
Before you ask, yes you can play one of the above races, but this means you will probably be playing as a villain. I will accept one 'monster-lover' type character, but no more than that since monsters are almost universally reviled by 'civilized' folk.
Story
The story is entirely dependent on what people decide to play and what they choose to do in story. As a result I can tell you nothing about it at this time.
My GMing Philosophy
I believe in player freedom. I think of myself as a hands off deity. Yes I will introduce elements which stimulate drama and/or action, but I have no expectations in regards to any character's decisions. The future events of this RP are as much a mystery to me as they are to you and that's exactly how I like it.
- 49 posts here • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 12 authors
The setting changes from Eldrath to Rivenmarch
Setting
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The Road West of Town
Cleric Dalaine rode at the center of a swarm of armor. Horses in steel scale and men in plate, the procession clanked as it moved like a heavy chain being dragged across uneven ground. Flags fluttering at either end displayed the symbol of both faith and country, the quartered circle, the many in the One. At the very forefront a child mounted upon a swift steed sounded their approach through a brass horn, thus assuring the proper reception.
What greeted them at the roadside, however, was not bowing masses but sweating workmen. Standing with heavy hammers balanced on broad shoulders they used the respect required by a cleric as a welcome excuse to rest. Behind them massive tents had begun their ascent into the morning sky casting fabric as high as the tallest rooves in Rivenmarch. Riding out from the center of her entourage Dalaine viewed it all with healthy condescension. Eventually, her cold eyes focused on a torpid, well-dressed fellow waddling down the steps of a nearby carriage. He had the look of one of the eastern merchants tainted with greed by their contact with dwarves. Upon his head he wore one of their tall, velvet hats though the rest of his suit looked a few threads short of true wealth.
He bowed so low when he came up to the cleric's horse, that one hand was required to steady the towering hat upon his head. "Your reverence you grace us with your presence."
"Get up, it is the One you should be worshiping not me."
"Ah... Yes, of course, your grace."
"Now if you would explain to me what you and your men are doing here. We don't like surprises in Rivenmarch."
"Your holiness I am merely an artist here to bring the wonder of Draconia to the hard working men and women of your town so that I might lighten their hearts..."
"And their purses no doubt."
"Why holiest, surely a man must make a living."
"Surely."
"...Might I show, my Wise Lady, our exhibits. Maybe you too are curious about what mysteries the Wilds hold."
Dalaine frowned, "I assure you...."
"They call me Terral, oh Guide Unto the Light."
"...Terral, I assure you I have seen enough of Draconia's wonder to last several lifetimes... However, you are outside my jurisdiction and I can only legally prevent this...entertainment if I deem it a threat to the town." The cleric slid from her steed and handed the reins to one of her attendants. "You will prove to me this is not the case or you will leave to ply your 'trade' elsewhere."
Terral bowed meekly, "this was always my intent, my.. Revered...Lady." A quick nod from the cleric brought two of the wider knights to attention at her left and right. "I assure you the guards are not necessary. All our exhibits are safely contained."
"The guards are coming along to put down any of your 'exhibits' I deem a threat. Now if you would hurry along, I do not want to be late to our evening sermon."
"Of course, your Oneness," said Terral as he shuffled forward toward the nearest pavilion. As he passed, men returned to their work bringing sledge to stake and tightening ropes and wires. When he reached the canvas door, Terral held it up for the cleric who ducked into the dark followed by her men at arms. Oil lamps shed sparse light on the straw floored interior, enough to make out the vertical lines of bars and a shadow moving behind them...
Cleric Dalaine rode at the center of a swarm of armor. Horses in steel scale and men in plate, the procession clanked as it moved like a heavy chain being dragged across uneven ground. Flags fluttering at either end displayed the symbol of both faith and country, the quartered circle, the many in the One. At the very forefront a child mounted upon a swift steed sounded their approach through a brass horn, thus assuring the proper reception.
What greeted them at the roadside, however, was not bowing masses but sweating workmen. Standing with heavy hammers balanced on broad shoulders they used the respect required by a cleric as a welcome excuse to rest. Behind them massive tents had begun their ascent into the morning sky casting fabric as high as the tallest rooves in Rivenmarch. Riding out from the center of her entourage Dalaine viewed it all with healthy condescension. Eventually, her cold eyes focused on a torpid, well-dressed fellow waddling down the steps of a nearby carriage. He had the look of one of the eastern merchants tainted with greed by their contact with dwarves. Upon his head he wore one of their tall, velvet hats though the rest of his suit looked a few threads short of true wealth.
He bowed so low when he came up to the cleric's horse, that one hand was required to steady the towering hat upon his head. "Your reverence you grace us with your presence."
"Get up, it is the One you should be worshiping not me."
"Ah... Yes, of course, your grace."
"Now if you would explain to me what you and your men are doing here. We don't like surprises in Rivenmarch."
"Your holiness I am merely an artist here to bring the wonder of Draconia to the hard working men and women of your town so that I might lighten their hearts..."
"And their purses no doubt."
"Why holiest, surely a man must make a living."
"Surely."
"...Might I show, my Wise Lady, our exhibits. Maybe you too are curious about what mysteries the Wilds hold."
Dalaine frowned, "I assure you...."
"They call me Terral, oh Guide Unto the Light."
"...Terral, I assure you I have seen enough of Draconia's wonder to last several lifetimes... However, you are outside my jurisdiction and I can only legally prevent this...entertainment if I deem it a threat to the town." The cleric slid from her steed and handed the reins to one of her attendants. "You will prove to me this is not the case or you will leave to ply your 'trade' elsewhere."
Terral bowed meekly, "this was always my intent, my.. Revered...Lady." A quick nod from the cleric brought two of the wider knights to attention at her left and right. "I assure you the guards are not necessary. All our exhibits are safely contained."
"The guards are coming along to put down any of your 'exhibits' I deem a threat. Now if you would hurry along, I do not want to be late to our evening sermon."
"Of course, your Oneness," said Terral as he shuffled forward toward the nearest pavilion. As he passed, men returned to their work bringing sledge to stake and tightening ropes and wires. When he reached the canvas door, Terral held it up for the cleric who ducked into the dark followed by her men at arms. Oil lamps shed sparse light on the straw floored interior, enough to make out the vertical lines of bars and a shadow moving behind them...
The setting changes from Rivenmarch to Blackwood
Setting
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What Brother Klarus knew of Blackwood came only from journals, penny novels and hear say. Although these tales all differed on specifics, they all agreed upon one thing: Blackwood was a Godless place. A place where monsters were treated as men and men acted as monsters. As an initiate of the One, it was his holy duty to bring the light into the very center of darkness and according to everything he had heard, that center was Blackwood. Such were the motivations that lead a young man, unarmed either with with weapon or wit to be sitting astride a half orc fur trader as he whipped his aurochs up the steep rocky slopes.
"Perhaps a bit more kindly," the brother offered.
The halfbreed eyed him with two black beady points surrounded by gray misshapen flesh. "Auroch's don't understand kindly," he grunted and gave the gigantic bulls another flog. "Come ta think of it nothin' in this territory understands kindly...cept maybe unicorns and the cursed elves 'ave seen'ta them."
"Well I aim to change that."
The half orc laughed uproariously, "the humans is gonna teach us how to be nice ta one'nuther. That's like a ogre teachin' table manners." With one more lash the auroch's grunted overtop the crest of the ridge. The driver allowed them to rest for a moment chugging steam into the cold air then he jostled the reins and let them clod easily down the long incline. Through the shifting pines on his right, Klarus could just make out the valley where Blackwood spread out like a wound in the earth. Smoke drifted up from a complex weave of timber buildings and dirt streets, but no church steeple could be seen to break the monotony of square structures. The monk's heart grew light as he realized his own divine purpose was soon to be realized.
The wagon half rolled half slid down the last steep stretch of muddy road. Around them trees turned into stumps and the town of Blackwood presented itself in all its chaotic, uncleanly glory. Used to the simple villages of Cathandria, Klarus's young eyes bugged at the diversity before him. Dwarven miners still coated in soot tromped through streets picks upon their shoulders, elven hunters made their camps on the road side fashioning enchanted arrows as they roasted wild fowl, and humans stood in the windows of shops and taverns watching money roll in with eager eyes. Among all these supposedly civilized folk monsters strode with impunity, savage orcs, lowly goblins, even beastial Ogre's whose torsos rose above the disordered crowds like the peaks of icebergs over a choppy sea. Blackwood lay bare before the initiate, free of exaggeration and hype. It was everything he had hoped for and everything he feared.
"You wan' I should let ya off at'a boardin' house?" asked the halforc.
"Wherever the poorest folk live, a servant of the one should live among those who have the least."
"The shittiest one then," muttered the halfbreed as he steered his wagon into the crowd.
"Perhaps a bit more kindly," the brother offered.
The halfbreed eyed him with two black beady points surrounded by gray misshapen flesh. "Auroch's don't understand kindly," he grunted and gave the gigantic bulls another flog. "Come ta think of it nothin' in this territory understands kindly...cept maybe unicorns and the cursed elves 'ave seen'ta them."
"Well I aim to change that."
The half orc laughed uproariously, "the humans is gonna teach us how to be nice ta one'nuther. That's like a ogre teachin' table manners." With one more lash the auroch's grunted overtop the crest of the ridge. The driver allowed them to rest for a moment chugging steam into the cold air then he jostled the reins and let them clod easily down the long incline. Through the shifting pines on his right, Klarus could just make out the valley where Blackwood spread out like a wound in the earth. Smoke drifted up from a complex weave of timber buildings and dirt streets, but no church steeple could be seen to break the monotony of square structures. The monk's heart grew light as he realized his own divine purpose was soon to be realized.
The wagon half rolled half slid down the last steep stretch of muddy road. Around them trees turned into stumps and the town of Blackwood presented itself in all its chaotic, uncleanly glory. Used to the simple villages of Cathandria, Klarus's young eyes bugged at the diversity before him. Dwarven miners still coated in soot tromped through streets picks upon their shoulders, elven hunters made their camps on the road side fashioning enchanted arrows as they roasted wild fowl, and humans stood in the windows of shops and taverns watching money roll in with eager eyes. Among all these supposedly civilized folk monsters strode with impunity, savage orcs, lowly goblins, even beastial Ogre's whose torsos rose above the disordered crowds like the peaks of icebergs over a choppy sea. Blackwood lay bare before the initiate, free of exaggeration and hype. It was everything he had hoped for and everything he feared.
"You wan' I should let ya off at'a boardin' house?" asked the halforc.
"Wherever the poorest folk live, a servant of the one should live among those who have the least."
"The shittiest one then," muttered the halfbreed as he steered his wagon into the crowd.
The setting changes from Eldrath to Rivenmarch
Setting
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The Road West of Town
Urdnot Wrex sat in the darkness. Shackles fastened securely around his wrists, ankles and neck connected to thick chains kept the ogre in thrall. The massive ogre was long past struggling against his bonds. The skin around the shackles had worn raw days ago. The skinless flesh was tender to the touch, every movement caused a slight stinging pain. Dried blood was caked to his large, green hands and feet. He breathed out slowly in resignation with a lament of past rage. His mind drifted from the present to the past. To the cool, mountain air of Tuchanka. Wrex could almost feel the frigid air in his lungs, the smell of the pine trees, the sound of the hawks flying over head. Wrex had been hunting with two brothers from his clan. A three day hunt that he would never return from.
"Wrex.... The beast rests."
Jarod spoke in a low rumbling tone. His gravely voice akin to the shifting of mountain rocks falling from a perch. Wrex crouched beside him and looked at the mammoth. The massive beasts thick brown pelt would bring quite the reward and the meat would feed them well. The tusks and bones would be used as building material or weapons. Ogres waste nothing from a kill.
"Take Wreav and circle it. Once you are at its back drive it to me, I will bring it down."
Wrex said, never taking his eyes off the game they'd been tracking for the past few days.
"Swobu."
Jarod grunted in the ogre tongue. He turned to Wreav, the only other ogre who had joined them for the hunt and nodded for him to follow. The two ogres crept around the massive behemoth as it slumbered. Wrex's eyes shifted constantly between his blood brothers and the mammoth watching for even the slightest movement from their quarry. The air seemed still as the tense seconds passed. Each moment Wreave and Jarod came closer to their position. Suddenly the mammoth shifted and Wrex had to fight the urge to leap from his cover behind a boulder. His eyes fixed on the mammoth fearing it had noticed his brethren. His grip tightened on his spear as he ground his teeth anxiously. The mammoth however had no idea of how close it was to its death and did not notice the two sneaking ogres. It merely moved to find a more comfortable position before resting again. Wrex breathed a sigh of relief yet it was short lived as pain filled roar broke the still mountain air. Wrex turned to see an arrow jutting out of Jarod's calf. The Mammoth leapt to its feet in surprise as did Wrex. Humans poured out of hiding with nets and spears. Wreave roared in challenge as he barreled at the human hunters yet was struck down quickly with a blast of magical fire. His body was engulfed in flame in seconds before he fell to the Tuchankan dirt. Wrex bellowed out and erupted from his position as he charged the scene. The enraged ogre made it not but half the distance before the Mammoths trunk caught him in the chest and sent him sprawling to the dirt. Wrex coughed in pain and shock as he struggled to rise. The beast must have seen Wrex as a threat and attacked out of fear. It loomed over him with one massive foot poised to crush Wrex. Acting on instinct Wrex drove his spear upwards into the beasts exposed chest. The Mammoth groaned and faltered. Not releasing his hold on the spear Wrex surged to his feet and pushed with a roar tearing from his throat. In a titanic display of strength Wrex toppled the beast onto its back by driving the spear upwards. The mammoth hit the ground with a mighty thoom causing the ground to shake.
"KAGH!!!"
Came Jarod's voice from behind him, screaming for him to run in Orge. Wrex turned just in time to see the net before it enveloped him. Wrex roared and struggle to tear the thing to ribbons yet to his dismay the net was enchanted and began releasing bursts of magical lightning. Wrex howled in pain as he fell to his knees as burst after burst coursed through his body. Wrex looked up to watch on helplessly as the humans fought to control Jarod. Though wounded and outnumbered he had killed two humans already and had a third by the throat. Then Wrex's world slowed in the next moment as a spear appeared bursting from Jarod's chest.
"NOOO!!!!"
Wrex bellowed as Jarod fell to his knees and the spear was removed. Jarod's massive body toppled forward in a lifeless heap. Wrex snarled in pain both physical and emotional before he surged to his feet and tore at the net in blind fury. The magical lightning erupted all around his body but the blood haze of losing two blood brothers spurred him in futility to continue to fight. Humans swarmed him and threw chains around him in an attempt to secure their quarry. Wrex shot out a hand and gripped one of the chains. With one yank the human was pulled toward the big ogre before Wrex crushed his skull under his boot. A war hammer struck the back of Wrex's knee and he fell again. More lighting shot through him and Wrex's vision began to blur. His breathes were becoming ragged and painful as he struggled to stay conscious. The human wielding the war hammer circled Wrex before swinging again, this time aiming for his skull. The blow caught Wrex on the brow and he dropped to the dirt. Barely able to see as his world began falling away from him. The last sound he remembered was a voice.
"One out of three... It will have to do.."
The canvas shielding the captives from the world was pulled aside and the darkness behind the bars was cast into the unrelenting brightness of the mid morning sun. Wrex winced in pain as he turned his head to shield his eyes from the light. After a few moments Wrex's eyes adjusted and he looked up with a low, hate filled growl rolling from his throat as he eyed the humans beyond the bars.
Urdnot Wrex sat in the darkness. Shackles fastened securely around his wrists, ankles and neck connected to thick chains kept the ogre in thrall. The massive ogre was long past struggling against his bonds. The skin around the shackles had worn raw days ago. The skinless flesh was tender to the touch, every movement caused a slight stinging pain. Dried blood was caked to his large, green hands and feet. He breathed out slowly in resignation with a lament of past rage. His mind drifted from the present to the past. To the cool, mountain air of Tuchanka. Wrex could almost feel the frigid air in his lungs, the smell of the pine trees, the sound of the hawks flying over head. Wrex had been hunting with two brothers from his clan. A three day hunt that he would never return from.
"Wrex.... The beast rests."
Jarod spoke in a low rumbling tone. His gravely voice akin to the shifting of mountain rocks falling from a perch. Wrex crouched beside him and looked at the mammoth. The massive beasts thick brown pelt would bring quite the reward and the meat would feed them well. The tusks and bones would be used as building material or weapons. Ogres waste nothing from a kill.
"Take Wreav and circle it. Once you are at its back drive it to me, I will bring it down."
Wrex said, never taking his eyes off the game they'd been tracking for the past few days.
"Swobu."
Jarod grunted in the ogre tongue. He turned to Wreav, the only other ogre who had joined them for the hunt and nodded for him to follow. The two ogres crept around the massive behemoth as it slumbered. Wrex's eyes shifted constantly between his blood brothers and the mammoth watching for even the slightest movement from their quarry. The air seemed still as the tense seconds passed. Each moment Wreave and Jarod came closer to their position. Suddenly the mammoth shifted and Wrex had to fight the urge to leap from his cover behind a boulder. His eyes fixed on the mammoth fearing it had noticed his brethren. His grip tightened on his spear as he ground his teeth anxiously. The mammoth however had no idea of how close it was to its death and did not notice the two sneaking ogres. It merely moved to find a more comfortable position before resting again. Wrex breathed a sigh of relief yet it was short lived as pain filled roar broke the still mountain air. Wrex turned to see an arrow jutting out of Jarod's calf. The Mammoth leapt to its feet in surprise as did Wrex. Humans poured out of hiding with nets and spears. Wreave roared in challenge as he barreled at the human hunters yet was struck down quickly with a blast of magical fire. His body was engulfed in flame in seconds before he fell to the Tuchankan dirt. Wrex bellowed out and erupted from his position as he charged the scene. The enraged ogre made it not but half the distance before the Mammoths trunk caught him in the chest and sent him sprawling to the dirt. Wrex coughed in pain and shock as he struggled to rise. The beast must have seen Wrex as a threat and attacked out of fear. It loomed over him with one massive foot poised to crush Wrex. Acting on instinct Wrex drove his spear upwards into the beasts exposed chest. The Mammoth groaned and faltered. Not releasing his hold on the spear Wrex surged to his feet and pushed with a roar tearing from his throat. In a titanic display of strength Wrex toppled the beast onto its back by driving the spear upwards. The mammoth hit the ground with a mighty thoom causing the ground to shake.
"KAGH!!!"
Came Jarod's voice from behind him, screaming for him to run in Orge. Wrex turned just in time to see the net before it enveloped him. Wrex roared and struggle to tear the thing to ribbons yet to his dismay the net was enchanted and began releasing bursts of magical lightning. Wrex howled in pain as he fell to his knees as burst after burst coursed through his body. Wrex looked up to watch on helplessly as the humans fought to control Jarod. Though wounded and outnumbered he had killed two humans already and had a third by the throat. Then Wrex's world slowed in the next moment as a spear appeared bursting from Jarod's chest.
"NOOO!!!!"
Wrex bellowed as Jarod fell to his knees and the spear was removed. Jarod's massive body toppled forward in a lifeless heap. Wrex snarled in pain both physical and emotional before he surged to his feet and tore at the net in blind fury. The magical lightning erupted all around his body but the blood haze of losing two blood brothers spurred him in futility to continue to fight. Humans swarmed him and threw chains around him in an attempt to secure their quarry. Wrex shot out a hand and gripped one of the chains. With one yank the human was pulled toward the big ogre before Wrex crushed his skull under his boot. A war hammer struck the back of Wrex's knee and he fell again. More lighting shot through him and Wrex's vision began to blur. His breathes were becoming ragged and painful as he struggled to stay conscious. The human wielding the war hammer circled Wrex before swinging again, this time aiming for his skull. The blow caught Wrex on the brow and he dropped to the dirt. Barely able to see as his world began falling away from him. The last sound he remembered was a voice.
"One out of three... It will have to do.."
The canvas shielding the captives from the world was pulled aside and the darkness behind the bars was cast into the unrelenting brightness of the mid morning sun. Wrex winced in pain as he turned his head to shield his eyes from the light. After a few moments Wrex's eyes adjusted and he looked up with a low, hate filled growl rolling from his throat as he eyed the humans beyond the bars.
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"We call this creature Goliath," said the squat showman as he waved at the hunched shadow, "a savage ogre from the untamed mountains of Tuchanaka."
The cleric eyed the beast narrowly through the bars, "and you are completely sure of those chains, I've heard the beasts can be quite strong when provoked."
"We spare no expense here, your Grace, those shackles are dwarf-forged, steel-mithril alloy. It would take a team of a hundred aurochs to break them."
The cleric stepped closer to the bars, "he seems... sedate."
"Oh I assure you, a few good prods from my stage hands and he puts on quite a show."
"Indeed... and have you attempted to communicate the holy words to this heathen beast?"
"...Ah well, we haven't, your Grace, but the beast only speaks its own savage language so there's no real communication with it. Even were we able I doubt it could grasp concepts so...subtle and... sublime."
The cleric's eyes lingered on the beast for a moment, "perhaps you are right, the chants teach that some monsters are born to sin."
"Quite right, your reverence, now if you'll follow me I'll show you one of our star attractions."
The cleric eyed the beast narrowly through the bars, "and you are completely sure of those chains, I've heard the beasts can be quite strong when provoked."
"We spare no expense here, your Grace, those shackles are dwarf-forged, steel-mithril alloy. It would take a team of a hundred aurochs to break them."
The cleric stepped closer to the bars, "he seems... sedate."
"Oh I assure you, a few good prods from my stage hands and he puts on quite a show."
"Indeed... and have you attempted to communicate the holy words to this heathen beast?"
"...Ah well, we haven't, your Grace, but the beast only speaks its own savage language so there's no real communication with it. Even were we able I doubt it could grasp concepts so...subtle and... sublime."
The cleric's eyes lingered on the beast for a moment, "perhaps you are right, the chants teach that some monsters are born to sin."
"Quite right, your reverence, now if you'll follow me I'll show you one of our star attractions."
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"We call this creature Goliath,"
Terral spoke, his voice calling fourth a loathing that knew no bounds within Wrex. Goliath... The humans had been calling Wrex that for the past few months. Wrex's eyes watched the humans speaking, his eyes carefully keeping track of their lips. Every slight movement was carefully noted.
"a savage ogre from the untamed mountains of Tuchanaka."
Terral continued. Wrex mouthed the words, mimicking the movements. The human cleric beside Terral eyeing the sole Ogre with interest. Clerics, worshipers of the human God that was merely referred to as The One. Wrex knew little of this deity but that the humans revered them therefore it was his enemy.
"and you are completely sure of those chains, I've heard the beasts can be quite strong when provoked."
The cleric spoke, her words skeptical yet sharp like the edge of a dagger.
"We spare no expense here, your Grace, those shackles are dwarf-forged, steel-mithril alloy. It would take a team of a hundred aurochs to break them."
Wrex matched the movements. His mouth forming the words around his tusks. The woman worshiper cautiously took a step closer to the bars. Wrex caught the faintest scent of the cleric. She smelled of the road. There was leather and the unmistakable scent of horse. There was also the stale scent of parchment and ink. She was studious in her devotion Wrex thought to himself.
"he seems... sedate."
Her words seemed unimpressed. The simple phrase was like an insult to the mighty warrior. Wrex had led armies into battle. Spilled blood on every rock of Tuchanka. He'd slain a thresher maw with naught but his bare hands, crushed the skulls of feral varren. Yet now... he was sedate. Despondent and resigned to his fate yet there was enough of a true ogre in him to spark a light in his eyes. Wrex flicked his gaze from her mouth to her eyes. He watched her as a only a caged beast can stare out at an onlooker. A silent warning that sent a primal chill to the bone. His gaze spoke volumes. Telling her that she should take solace in her safety for she owed her life to the chains binding him and the bars separating them.
"Oh I assure you, a few good prods from my stage hands and he puts on quite a show."
The rotund showman said and in that instant the flame in Wrex's eyes went out. Wrex's mind flashed to the exhibits he was forced to put on. Test of strength to thrill human and elf alike. They all laughed and stared in awe at the being that was once an ogre. Wrex's eyes dropped back to their mouths as he continued his study. Wrex's heart ached for Tuhcanka. His soul cried out for what he once was. Yet his mind remained strong and resolute. Wrex would be an ogre once more and on that day, the children of men would scream.
Terral spoke, his voice calling fourth a loathing that knew no bounds within Wrex. Goliath... The humans had been calling Wrex that for the past few months. Wrex's eyes watched the humans speaking, his eyes carefully keeping track of their lips. Every slight movement was carefully noted.
"a savage ogre from the untamed mountains of Tuchanaka."
Terral continued. Wrex mouthed the words, mimicking the movements. The human cleric beside Terral eyeing the sole Ogre with interest. Clerics, worshipers of the human God that was merely referred to as The One. Wrex knew little of this deity but that the humans revered them therefore it was his enemy.
"and you are completely sure of those chains, I've heard the beasts can be quite strong when provoked."
The cleric spoke, her words skeptical yet sharp like the edge of a dagger.
"We spare no expense here, your Grace, those shackles are dwarf-forged, steel-mithril alloy. It would take a team of a hundred aurochs to break them."
Wrex matched the movements. His mouth forming the words around his tusks. The woman worshiper cautiously took a step closer to the bars. Wrex caught the faintest scent of the cleric. She smelled of the road. There was leather and the unmistakable scent of horse. There was also the stale scent of parchment and ink. She was studious in her devotion Wrex thought to himself.
"he seems... sedate."
Her words seemed unimpressed. The simple phrase was like an insult to the mighty warrior. Wrex had led armies into battle. Spilled blood on every rock of Tuchanka. He'd slain a thresher maw with naught but his bare hands, crushed the skulls of feral varren. Yet now... he was sedate. Despondent and resigned to his fate yet there was enough of a true ogre in him to spark a light in his eyes. Wrex flicked his gaze from her mouth to her eyes. He watched her as a only a caged beast can stare out at an onlooker. A silent warning that sent a primal chill to the bone. His gaze spoke volumes. Telling her that she should take solace in her safety for she owed her life to the chains binding him and the bars separating them.
"Oh I assure you, a few good prods from my stage hands and he puts on quite a show."
The rotund showman said and in that instant the flame in Wrex's eyes went out. Wrex's mind flashed to the exhibits he was forced to put on. Test of strength to thrill human and elf alike. They all laughed and stared in awe at the being that was once an ogre. Wrex's eyes dropped back to their mouths as he continued his study. Wrex's heart ached for Tuhcanka. His soul cried out for what he once was. Yet his mind remained strong and resolute. Wrex would be an ogre once more and on that day, the children of men would scream.
The Plains East of Town, in Rivenmarch
The soft darkness of gloaming had finally taken the land, engulfing those without flame in the ebony air - when the soft chirping of insects and whispers of the night-winds were the loudest. It was near approaching the late watches, and the moon rose higher and higher, shaded by the abundance of clouds. The night was dull and shadows were non-existent, due to overbearing dark. No right man or woman would be caught dead at this time; their senses numb, and their minds afraid...
The modifier 'Man' would need to be more heavily implied.
As the night still belonged to the gnolls... or at least this gnoll.
Vilkauti kept his mouth closed as he approached the road sign, defined through his eyes by those highly sensitive orbs in his hyena-like skull. The black paint on mahogany wood was even darker than he himself could make out. But he didn't need to know what the words were. The gnoll knew exactly what the crude arrow was pointing to: Town; people, pets, shops.... and xenophobia. People would stare. Women would cry out, men would reach for their blades, and children would flock to their mothers, seeking comfort. Mocking mutters of 'Animal' or 'Beast' would be uttered more than once, and he knew the town watch would be on him in only a few minutes, spears raised as if he'd threatened the whole town.
Just an average day for a gnoll.
But this day was not destined. Vilkauti would unsling his pack from his back, resting it against the sign, and rummaging through the crude satchel. There was enough supplies to withhold him- he'd not show his face to these 'fair' folk, nor would need to be shunned from yet another town. He knew that his kind had no kind reputation... or what those people thought were his kind. But he could do little to change their mind. Yet these facts compiled did nothing to dampen the throbbing hyena heart that beat underneath. Closing up the satchel, and throwing it over his shoulder, and looking back up the sign. The gentle rolling plains surrounded the town, and although a detour would elongate his trip, he'd not wished to risk another foul incident of rebuttal. So, instead of taking either one of the trodden dirt paths unto the road, he took a sharp right, dipping into the tall grass, which almost overwhelmed the short gnoll. He began to descend gently into a valley, his steel skin clanking lightly as he traversed down with his unsure footing. He'd go around the town, and simply avoid all of the contact that he could.
Vilkauti kept the corner of his yellow pearls locked into the town, from which he could see the illuminated windows and fire of braziers. He could even see the dull sheen of flame-light reflecting off the mail of the night-watch. It made him all the more worried. Most towns hardly had three or four town watchmen... but this little hamlet had more than that in the form of night-watchmen. The gnoll had no map; and had no way of knowing how close he was to a castle or kingdom... he had been in the woods belonging to the elves previously, passing through his kin's territory with little trouble. He knew, however, this made it more dangerous for him as well now that he'd left them. If common gnolls had been spotted near or in this village, he'd probably be attacked on sight! It made his feet plod a little further away, adding more distance between him and the town. He was sure he was invisible to the naked eye, as far away as he was, and having no light. But that didn't put his mind at ease.
But the gnoll had been so busy with his eyes locked on the civilization, his ears failed to warn him of the dangers that lurk in the field that only his head rose above....
It happened so fast that the gnoll couldn't even react enough to save himself. A strong, tall human stepped out in front of him, the grass rustling as he planted his feet firmly in Vilkauti's path. The gnoll could see him, a broad grin on his face. The man just stood there, and there was moment of curious silence from Vilkauti. The man didn't wear armor... or at least not platemail. He figured a traveler, a man like himself, camping out in these very fields. But as Vilkauti went to bow, he heard more movement in the tall weeds around him... and before he could even vocalize anything, two others lurched out from either side of him. One had in his hand, a thick silk rope, which found it's way tightly around the gnoll's throat, instantly straining his breathing, and pulling his head back. The other began to wrestle his struggling hands away from his neck. Vilkauti could barely breathe, much less speak his peace.
"Whadd'we got, boys?" The man that had first stepped into Kauti's path asked, reaching to the ground, and pulling a lantern towards his face. The metal striker sparked the bright, oil-soaked rag to life, illuminating their faces. All humans, and all men.
"Jus' loik we t'ought. A 'noddah onna does dog-f'ings from da woods. Pr'olly 'ere t' take Farmer Breck's livestock 'gain." Another spoke. "'E must be a dumb one, 'ough. 'e dinnae'ven bring frien's to 'elp."
"Dunno! Thus'ns, real tall fer one'o those stinkers... An' woul'ja look at that! 'E figured out 'ow t' put armor on! Ain' 'e cute." the third, the one restraining his throat mocked.
Vilkauti threw his head back and forth, trying to shake his dome in disagreement, but he was already feeling light-headed.
"I says we plug 'im a few toims inna guts, an' leave 'im out 'ere for the buzz'erds. " The second piped up again, drawing a knife. "Crops'll do real noice den, I bet." Added, tapping the steel plate across Vilkauti's torso with the blade's tip.
"Leave 'im fer a warnin' fer the rest o' 'em, I say. Maybe those damn thing's'll catch th' hint?" The one restraining him spoke again. "Last thing we need is more of 'em in m' Paw's fields."
"Maybe. We could prob'ly get a few silvers for 'is armors, if they don't smell like th' rest o' this fleabag. Hard pressed t' find a blacksmith that can work on crude steel loik that though. 'is sword'll go for a new few pieces too!" The first said, moving closer, and really looking him over, particularly his armor and blade. Vilkauti's vision was dimming now, his eyes fluttering as his muscles began to un-tense, and the voices began to scramble as his mind slowly blanked.
Of course to him, his unconciousness didn't last long.
Vilkauti slowly came to, the light shining sharply through his eyelids, and stirring his suffication induced nap. His reaction was swift, darting upright, and looking around, hey weary eyes wide, his vision fuzzy. He was... in a cage? What happened to him?
The gnoll looked around, taking in the other cages in the room... which seemed to be some kind of display room. He heard voices. Human ones. Common dialect. The memories of the night before slowly washed over him. The binding... the choking... didn't they say they were going to kill him? This wasn't the afterlife, was it?
Slowly, the gnoll took himself in... sure enough, his sword and armor both had been stripped from him, and nowhere in sight. They at least had the decency to give him a loincloth, however. He figured that they decided his bits and bobs probably would've not been pleasant to see bouncing around as he moved around.... not that he could've done so very easily anyway. His cage was barely ten feet by ten feet. There was definitely not plenty of spacious movement room. The dark iron bars surrounded him, as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, having to stay hunched over in the cage uncomfortably. Finally, he just decided to squat down, resting on his feet, and propping his elbows on his knees. He couldn't see people directly, yet he heard their voices. Perhaps.. some were growing closer? Nonetheless, there was nothing the gnoll could do... but wait... and cook up unpleasant things to say to whomever he saw next.
The soft darkness of gloaming had finally taken the land, engulfing those without flame in the ebony air - when the soft chirping of insects and whispers of the night-winds were the loudest. It was near approaching the late watches, and the moon rose higher and higher, shaded by the abundance of clouds. The night was dull and shadows were non-existent, due to overbearing dark. No right man or woman would be caught dead at this time; their senses numb, and their minds afraid...
The modifier 'Man' would need to be more heavily implied.
As the night still belonged to the gnolls... or at least this gnoll.
Vilkauti kept his mouth closed as he approached the road sign, defined through his eyes by those highly sensitive orbs in his hyena-like skull. The black paint on mahogany wood was even darker than he himself could make out. But he didn't need to know what the words were. The gnoll knew exactly what the crude arrow was pointing to: Town; people, pets, shops.... and xenophobia. People would stare. Women would cry out, men would reach for their blades, and children would flock to their mothers, seeking comfort. Mocking mutters of 'Animal' or 'Beast' would be uttered more than once, and he knew the town watch would be on him in only a few minutes, spears raised as if he'd threatened the whole town.
Just an average day for a gnoll.
But this day was not destined. Vilkauti would unsling his pack from his back, resting it against the sign, and rummaging through the crude satchel. There was enough supplies to withhold him- he'd not show his face to these 'fair' folk, nor would need to be shunned from yet another town. He knew that his kind had no kind reputation... or what those people thought were his kind. But he could do little to change their mind. Yet these facts compiled did nothing to dampen the throbbing hyena heart that beat underneath. Closing up the satchel, and throwing it over his shoulder, and looking back up the sign. The gentle rolling plains surrounded the town, and although a detour would elongate his trip, he'd not wished to risk another foul incident of rebuttal. So, instead of taking either one of the trodden dirt paths unto the road, he took a sharp right, dipping into the tall grass, which almost overwhelmed the short gnoll. He began to descend gently into a valley, his steel skin clanking lightly as he traversed down with his unsure footing. He'd go around the town, and simply avoid all of the contact that he could.
Vilkauti kept the corner of his yellow pearls locked into the town, from which he could see the illuminated windows and fire of braziers. He could even see the dull sheen of flame-light reflecting off the mail of the night-watch. It made him all the more worried. Most towns hardly had three or four town watchmen... but this little hamlet had more than that in the form of night-watchmen. The gnoll had no map; and had no way of knowing how close he was to a castle or kingdom... he had been in the woods belonging to the elves previously, passing through his kin's territory with little trouble. He knew, however, this made it more dangerous for him as well now that he'd left them. If common gnolls had been spotted near or in this village, he'd probably be attacked on sight! It made his feet plod a little further away, adding more distance between him and the town. He was sure he was invisible to the naked eye, as far away as he was, and having no light. But that didn't put his mind at ease.
But the gnoll had been so busy with his eyes locked on the civilization, his ears failed to warn him of the dangers that lurk in the field that only his head rose above....
It happened so fast that the gnoll couldn't even react enough to save himself. A strong, tall human stepped out in front of him, the grass rustling as he planted his feet firmly in Vilkauti's path. The gnoll could see him, a broad grin on his face. The man just stood there, and there was moment of curious silence from Vilkauti. The man didn't wear armor... or at least not platemail. He figured a traveler, a man like himself, camping out in these very fields. But as Vilkauti went to bow, he heard more movement in the tall weeds around him... and before he could even vocalize anything, two others lurched out from either side of him. One had in his hand, a thick silk rope, which found it's way tightly around the gnoll's throat, instantly straining his breathing, and pulling his head back. The other began to wrestle his struggling hands away from his neck. Vilkauti could barely breathe, much less speak his peace.
"Whadd'we got, boys?" The man that had first stepped into Kauti's path asked, reaching to the ground, and pulling a lantern towards his face. The metal striker sparked the bright, oil-soaked rag to life, illuminating their faces. All humans, and all men.
"Jus' loik we t'ought. A 'noddah onna does dog-f'ings from da woods. Pr'olly 'ere t' take Farmer Breck's livestock 'gain." Another spoke. "'E must be a dumb one, 'ough. 'e dinnae'ven bring frien's to 'elp."
"Dunno! Thus'ns, real tall fer one'o those stinkers... An' woul'ja look at that! 'E figured out 'ow t' put armor on! Ain' 'e cute." the third, the one restraining his throat mocked.
Vilkauti threw his head back and forth, trying to shake his dome in disagreement, but he was already feeling light-headed.
"I says we plug 'im a few toims inna guts, an' leave 'im out 'ere for the buzz'erds. " The second piped up again, drawing a knife. "Crops'll do real noice den, I bet." Added, tapping the steel plate across Vilkauti's torso with the blade's tip.
"Leave 'im fer a warnin' fer the rest o' 'em, I say. Maybe those damn thing's'll catch th' hint?" The one restraining him spoke again. "Last thing we need is more of 'em in m' Paw's fields."
"Maybe. We could prob'ly get a few silvers for 'is armors, if they don't smell like th' rest o' this fleabag. Hard pressed t' find a blacksmith that can work on crude steel loik that though. 'is sword'll go for a new few pieces too!" The first said, moving closer, and really looking him over, particularly his armor and blade. Vilkauti's vision was dimming now, his eyes fluttering as his muscles began to un-tense, and the voices began to scramble as his mind slowly blanked.
Of course to him, his unconciousness didn't last long.
Vilkauti slowly came to, the light shining sharply through his eyelids, and stirring his suffication induced nap. His reaction was swift, darting upright, and looking around, hey weary eyes wide, his vision fuzzy. He was... in a cage? What happened to him?
The gnoll looked around, taking in the other cages in the room... which seemed to be some kind of display room. He heard voices. Human ones. Common dialect. The memories of the night before slowly washed over him. The binding... the choking... didn't they say they were going to kill him? This wasn't the afterlife, was it?
Slowly, the gnoll took himself in... sure enough, his sword and armor both had been stripped from him, and nowhere in sight. They at least had the decency to give him a loincloth, however. He figured that they decided his bits and bobs probably would've not been pleasant to see bouncing around as he moved around.... not that he could've done so very easily anyway. His cage was barely ten feet by ten feet. There was definitely not plenty of spacious movement room. The dark iron bars surrounded him, as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, having to stay hunched over in the cage uncomfortably. Finally, he just decided to squat down, resting on his feet, and propping his elbows on his knees. He couldn't see people directly, yet he heard their voices. Perhaps.. some were growing closer? Nonetheless, there was nothing the gnoll could do... but wait... and cook up unpleasant things to say to whomever he saw next.
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Cleric Dalaine looked decidedly unimpressed. Her eyes panned over the cages on display at the center of the tent but found nothing more than a bunch of ragged goblins and a few scruffy gnolls. Around them stood a larger enclosure with thicker bars but it held nothing apart from the blended stink of the two species. "You really think farmers are going to pay to see critters they have to drive out of their fields every other night?"
The showman grinned as he sharpened his moustache with devilish strokes, "oh they aren't the main attraction. We pick them up here and there across the colony, got that gnoll there this morning from one of your own townsfolk, but they're not the real show." Terral gestured to a large cube clad in black drapes and connected to the main cage. "That is."
"And what, pray tell is that?"
"Surely your Reverence appreciates the value of a surprise, I wouldn't want the nature of my star attraction revealed before the public ever got a chance to see..."
"Show Me Now."
"Very well, your Oneness if you insist." Terral lead the cleric and her paladins up to the shrouded cage and gingerly flipped up a flap in its concealing cloth. When the priestess looked through it her breath caught in her throat, it took her several moments to dislodge it. "Is.. that...."
"Yes and please," he said pulling back the cloth before the knights could see, "do not go telling your flock..." The cleric's eyes hardened. "...please."
"If that thing gets loose."
"But it won't get loose. I assure you, my Esteemed and Virtuous Lady, the only creatures in danger her are them," he gestured to the gnolls and goblins dangling in their various cages.
The showman grinned as he sharpened his moustache with devilish strokes, "oh they aren't the main attraction. We pick them up here and there across the colony, got that gnoll there this morning from one of your own townsfolk, but they're not the real show." Terral gestured to a large cube clad in black drapes and connected to the main cage. "That is."
"And what, pray tell is that?"
"Surely your Reverence appreciates the value of a surprise, I wouldn't want the nature of my star attraction revealed before the public ever got a chance to see..."
"Show Me Now."
"Very well, your Oneness if you insist." Terral lead the cleric and her paladins up to the shrouded cage and gingerly flipped up a flap in its concealing cloth. When the priestess looked through it her breath caught in her throat, it took her several moments to dislodge it. "Is.. that...."
"Yes and please," he said pulling back the cloth before the knights could see, "do not go telling your flock..." The cleric's eyes hardened. "...please."
"If that thing gets loose."
"But it won't get loose. I assure you, my Esteemed and Virtuous Lady, the only creatures in danger her are them," he gestured to the gnolls and goblins dangling in their various cages.
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The Plains East of Town, Rivenmarch
The cool night air was silent, save for the rustling of the grass as the breeze passed through it.
It had taken him quite some time, but Tadik had tracked them here. He was almost sure that he could find the men he was looking for within the walls of Rivenmarch. He walked with a steady pace, still too far away to be worried about city guards. Despite this, he kept his bow in hand at all times, ready to defend himself at a moment's notice.
Suddenly, from up ahead, Tadik heard a commotion. He crouched as low as he could and listened very carefully for the cause.
"...Leave 'im fer a warnin' fer the rest o' 'em, I say. Maybe those damn thing's'll catch th' hint? Last thing we need is more of 'em in m' Paw's fields."
Tadik slowly crept closer, carefully avoiding stepping on anything that might alert the men ahead to his presence. He notched an arrow and raised his bow.
"Maybe. We could prob'ly get a few silvers for 'is armors, if they don't smell like th' rest o' this fleabag. Hard pressed t' find a blacksmith that can work on crude steel loik that though. 'is sword'll go for a new few pieces too!"
He could clearly see their silhouettes now. There were three men who were restraining what looked like a Gnoll. Tadik could see the Gnoll struggling for a moment before he went limp and the men put him in a large sack and carried him off towards Rivenmarch. Tadik put his arrow away and stared after them. He knew it would be of no use to chase after them and fight. Tadik could take one man easily, and on a good day, he could handle two by himself, but three men at once would be impossible for an Orc of his size. He elected to follow them to Rivenmarch instead.
For the duration of the walk, he stayed within earshot of the men. He could hear them talking about taking the Gnoll to a small sideshow on the road west of town. He also heard mention of an Ogre that was being held captive in the same sideshow.
"Perhaps before I take care of my...personal business," he thought, "I can go and aid a cousin in need."
Tadik knew he could not simply stroll through the middle of Rivenmarch. Sneaking through would be nearly impossible as well due to the recent abundance of guards in most villages Tadik had passed. He would have to go around the city walls until he reached the western road out of Rivenmarch. He pressed close to the wall and began to quietly make his way around the perimeter of the city.
As he crept along, Tadik began to wonder just what it was he planned to do to save this Ogre. There were bound to be plenty more men at the camp, and Tadik knew he could not challenge them all and survive.
He resolved that he would camp a distance away from the sideshow and watch to see what his options might be.
The cool night air was silent, save for the rustling of the grass as the breeze passed through it.
It had taken him quite some time, but Tadik had tracked them here. He was almost sure that he could find the men he was looking for within the walls of Rivenmarch. He walked with a steady pace, still too far away to be worried about city guards. Despite this, he kept his bow in hand at all times, ready to defend himself at a moment's notice.
Suddenly, from up ahead, Tadik heard a commotion. He crouched as low as he could and listened very carefully for the cause.
"...Leave 'im fer a warnin' fer the rest o' 'em, I say. Maybe those damn thing's'll catch th' hint? Last thing we need is more of 'em in m' Paw's fields."
Tadik slowly crept closer, carefully avoiding stepping on anything that might alert the men ahead to his presence. He notched an arrow and raised his bow.
"Maybe. We could prob'ly get a few silvers for 'is armors, if they don't smell like th' rest o' this fleabag. Hard pressed t' find a blacksmith that can work on crude steel loik that though. 'is sword'll go for a new few pieces too!"
He could clearly see their silhouettes now. There were three men who were restraining what looked like a Gnoll. Tadik could see the Gnoll struggling for a moment before he went limp and the men put him in a large sack and carried him off towards Rivenmarch. Tadik put his arrow away and stared after them. He knew it would be of no use to chase after them and fight. Tadik could take one man easily, and on a good day, he could handle two by himself, but three men at once would be impossible for an Orc of his size. He elected to follow them to Rivenmarch instead.
For the duration of the walk, he stayed within earshot of the men. He could hear them talking about taking the Gnoll to a small sideshow on the road west of town. He also heard mention of an Ogre that was being held captive in the same sideshow.
"Perhaps before I take care of my...personal business," he thought, "I can go and aid a cousin in need."
Tadik knew he could not simply stroll through the middle of Rivenmarch. Sneaking through would be nearly impossible as well due to the recent abundance of guards in most villages Tadik had passed. He would have to go around the city walls until he reached the western road out of Rivenmarch. He pressed close to the wall and began to quietly make his way around the perimeter of the city.
As he crept along, Tadik began to wonder just what it was he planned to do to save this Ogre. There were bound to be plenty more men at the camp, and Tadik knew he could not challenge them all and survive.
He resolved that he would camp a distance away from the sideshow and watch to see what his options might be.
The night was the most beautiful thing Fera had ever seen. The sky was blaketed with black velvet and in the far distance was a white stone that shone so brilliantly alongside the twinkling stars. Sometimes, she would connect the stars with her own pale finger, and create things from strange figures to faces and scenes. The air was cooler in the night and the vines, trees, and plants that made up the forest was nocturnal, alive, and breathing. Then, there they were, four still skeletons, unable to sleep not by their choice, some standing, others sitting, basking in quiet nightly releflection until one question was raised.
"Who is the One?"
"What?"
"Who is the One?" Repeated Isis as he placed a boney hand under his chin; trying to contemplate the three letter name. "The humans had spoken of this man, the One and given him names like Grace, Holy, and Light. Does anyone know who is he?"
"How do you know the One is a man?" Rea had interjected with a sense of hostility; her usual approach to debate.
"I don't, I just assumed." Isis said, shrugging his shoulder bones, and raising his arms to the air in confusion.
"Never assume anything, my brother." Brayin said, glaring at Isis and then Rea.
"We assume everything, brother." Fera said, laying in the dirt, and tracing the night sky with a bony finger. "Why assume God is human? What if God's a monster? Or an idea?"
"An idea?"
"Yes. The One is an idea, a powerful idea, universal for humans. That is why God is dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Rea had said, leaning closer to Fera with interest, hanging on her words.
"Our brothers and sisters were slain by men in armor in the name of Holyness, the Eternal Light, the One." Fera pushed out and a long silence hung over the small camp as each of them remembered their time to be hunted and hated. Her memories went all the way back to her son, an adopted son, a new one to have awakened who's own name was Jaru, and her idiot of a companion, Zeno. He was not a smart skeleton or even a brave one but he did have humour and it has been so long since Fera had laughed. Then, there was the light...
"It is not right." Isis said in a low trembling whisper.
"Nor is it wrong." Fera said blatently. "It is simply an idea that remains unchallanged. Why it is not is far beyond me."
"Maybe ignorance is bliss?" Brayin was the one to have surprisingly spoken; coming out of his shell of observance.
"How long will it be to Castle Betz?" Rea had asked in an attempt to divert the conversation, suddenly uncomfortable with the whole discussion.
"It is perhaps only a few hours from here." Brayin replied and soon everyone else had acknowledged to get moving. They traversed through the forest and Fera was more attuned to the state of nature around her compared to her companions. Her pace was slower, fingers tracing along the bark of trees, and embracing the damp scent that lingered in the air. It was alwys disheartenig to leave the forests but it was safer and better to have been hold up in a castle with her brethern; where music could be played in peace. It wasn't before long that Castle Betz was finally in their sights after the long journey and they had started to run when they saw their temporary salvation.
Fera was just behind the group when she was captured, no team, no swords, nothing of that sort. Just a snare that overturned the skeleton from her ankle and held her upside down from the sky. Her robes, arrows, and bow quickly fell to the ground and she could hear humans coming through the trails until a group of six or seven appeared.
"Why, dats a fun'y lookin' animal."
"No..." She whimpered silently as the castle that was her freedom taunted her.
"Ther' ain't no meat o' 'em bones t' eat."
"I sa' we kil' dat monstrosity!
"O, but I kno' a felle' we ca' sell thi' to fur som' gold."
"NOOOOOOOOO!" Fera screamed, clawing at the tightly bound snare in a futile attempt to free herself. She was forced in a sack, kicking and screaming, and then, sold.
Darkness. There was nothing but darkness in Fera's cage, and a confining cage it was, with only enough space to properly stand up. The bars were different in respect to the regular cells, instead of regular vertical bars, there was horizontal bars connecting with the vertical bars, creating a cross-cross pattern. Her limbs were chained, arms to the top corners, and legs to the bottom of the cage, not with shackels but with a multitude of chains binding Fera. She could hear voices. Humans. Again.
"Who is the One?"
"What?"
"Who is the One?" Repeated Isis as he placed a boney hand under his chin; trying to contemplate the three letter name. "The humans had spoken of this man, the One and given him names like Grace, Holy, and Light. Does anyone know who is he?"
"How do you know the One is a man?" Rea had interjected with a sense of hostility; her usual approach to debate.
"I don't, I just assumed." Isis said, shrugging his shoulder bones, and raising his arms to the air in confusion.
"Never assume anything, my brother." Brayin said, glaring at Isis and then Rea.
"We assume everything, brother." Fera said, laying in the dirt, and tracing the night sky with a bony finger. "Why assume God is human? What if God's a monster? Or an idea?"
"An idea?"
"Yes. The One is an idea, a powerful idea, universal for humans. That is why God is dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Rea had said, leaning closer to Fera with interest, hanging on her words.
"Our brothers and sisters were slain by men in armor in the name of Holyness, the Eternal Light, the One." Fera pushed out and a long silence hung over the small camp as each of them remembered their time to be hunted and hated. Her memories went all the way back to her son, an adopted son, a new one to have awakened who's own name was Jaru, and her idiot of a companion, Zeno. He was not a smart skeleton or even a brave one but he did have humour and it has been so long since Fera had laughed. Then, there was the light...
"It is not right." Isis said in a low trembling whisper.
"Nor is it wrong." Fera said blatently. "It is simply an idea that remains unchallanged. Why it is not is far beyond me."
"Maybe ignorance is bliss?" Brayin was the one to have surprisingly spoken; coming out of his shell of observance.
"How long will it be to Castle Betz?" Rea had asked in an attempt to divert the conversation, suddenly uncomfortable with the whole discussion.
"It is perhaps only a few hours from here." Brayin replied and soon everyone else had acknowledged to get moving. They traversed through the forest and Fera was more attuned to the state of nature around her compared to her companions. Her pace was slower, fingers tracing along the bark of trees, and embracing the damp scent that lingered in the air. It was alwys disheartenig to leave the forests but it was safer and better to have been hold up in a castle with her brethern; where music could be played in peace. It wasn't before long that Castle Betz was finally in their sights after the long journey and they had started to run when they saw their temporary salvation.
Fera was just behind the group when she was captured, no team, no swords, nothing of that sort. Just a snare that overturned the skeleton from her ankle and held her upside down from the sky. Her robes, arrows, and bow quickly fell to the ground and she could hear humans coming through the trails until a group of six or seven appeared.
"Why, dats a fun'y lookin' animal."
"No..." She whimpered silently as the castle that was her freedom taunted her.
"Ther' ain't no meat o' 'em bones t' eat."
"I sa' we kil' dat monstrosity!
"O, but I kno' a felle' we ca' sell thi' to fur som' gold."
"NOOOOOOOOO!" Fera screamed, clawing at the tightly bound snare in a futile attempt to free herself. She was forced in a sack, kicking and screaming, and then, sold.
Darkness. There was nothing but darkness in Fera's cage, and a confining cage it was, with only enough space to properly stand up. The bars were different in respect to the regular cells, instead of regular vertical bars, there was horizontal bars connecting with the vertical bars, creating a cross-cross pattern. Her limbs were chained, arms to the top corners, and legs to the bottom of the cage, not with shackels but with a multitude of chains binding Fera. She could hear voices. Humans. Again.
The setting changes from Rivenmarch to Blackwood
On the side of one of the many dirt roads of the town stood a rather derelict stand, tiny in it's proportions as it barely peaked at the height of an average humans shoulders. The wood that made its base was rotten and shambled, and the cloth awning that was most likely once a vibrant banner of red and yellow had become tattered and dirty. Set upon its counter-top was a row of glass bottles of all sorts. Some were unique, twisted and sculpted by some expert glass blower while others were obviously once containers of alcohol with labels still present. All were filled with a bright red fluid that appeared to glow, hardly the most appeasing looking beverage. The whole scene was quite pathetic but despite its shambled appearance, the stalls goblin owner had perhaps one of the best advantages for a peddler of his kind; his head.
So smooth and so waxed that it reflected a powerful glare from the sun, catching the eye of many of the crowd shuffling by. His fiery red beard helped quite a bit as well, like a tiny flag hanging from his jaw. And once they'd noticed him, the sales-pitch began.
"You there, yes you!" he'd holler, lips curling into a wicked smile as potential customers would occasionally stop and see what there was to purchase. "You look world-weary, tired, exhausted. Perhaps exhumed. Perhaps the world is just too much for you to handle. Come, and let good ol' Gryt take care of you with his splendificent rrremedies. Ancient goblin secrets of the most amusing, amazing, and amphibious types!"
Luckily, most of his buyers weren't smart enough to notice most of what he was saying was nonsense. Words with definitions unrelated to the topic, while others were made up entirely.
His pitches were long winded and full of self praise, and always accompanied by smooth twisting motions of his hands and arms, like some exotic mating dance as his head, torso and legs could never agree on which direction to move in. Many of the gestures he made with his hands were things learned from watching the magicians that would often make their way through the swamp he once called home. Were he a more clever individual, performing movements that could potentially summon forth a tiny inferno would be best left out of his routine. But by the One, he had no time for precautions, damn it!
Gryt was a goblin of coin and concoction! There's no room for caution in a world of coin and concoctions! Clearly, caution would completely compromise the concept of coin and concoction, causing chaos. Sure, setting someone on fire would be bad for business, but so would one of his customers actually drinking what he was selling. It had most of the required components for a simple healing potion, but it had been prepared completely wrong. Herbs that should have been ground up were diced, powders that should have been mixed were clumped, and fluids that should have been poured carefully had seen liberal application. There was a good chance that if someone with a weak heart were to consume such a brew, their chest may very well explode. Not in a metaphorical manner either. Literally, their chest would explode open in a powerful blast of crimson fluids and fleshy pink bits. But as the fates would have it, no one had ever mustered the courage nor sported the nose to drink it. More often then not the powerful stench would knock them out before the bottle ever even reached their lips.
Although the many spilled potions had lead to the sudden explosions of several small vermin around town, a mystery to all (including the brewer.)
If only he'd wise up move into pest-control instead of miracle cures.
On this day in particular, no man approached the tiny green salesman as he waved and whistled for their attention. It was like some force from above was keeping the poor unsuspecting masses from a gruesome and foul tasting fate. The goblin sighed and leaned on his stall, the wood creaking as it threatened to fall apart with the application of much more weight. He very quickly decided to take himself off the leaning structure and instead planted his bottom firmly on a small box, making sure that he was positioned neatly in a small square of light that came from in between the tall structures obscuring the sky around him.
That powerful shine from his scalp would catch someones eye eventually, even if it cost them their sight for a short while.
And, hey, what better to fix lost vision than a Goblin miracle cure?
So smooth and so waxed that it reflected a powerful glare from the sun, catching the eye of many of the crowd shuffling by. His fiery red beard helped quite a bit as well, like a tiny flag hanging from his jaw. And once they'd noticed him, the sales-pitch began.
"You there, yes you!" he'd holler, lips curling into a wicked smile as potential customers would occasionally stop and see what there was to purchase. "You look world-weary, tired, exhausted. Perhaps exhumed. Perhaps the world is just too much for you to handle. Come, and let good ol' Gryt take care of you with his splendificent rrremedies. Ancient goblin secrets of the most amusing, amazing, and amphibious types!"
Luckily, most of his buyers weren't smart enough to notice most of what he was saying was nonsense. Words with definitions unrelated to the topic, while others were made up entirely.
His pitches were long winded and full of self praise, and always accompanied by smooth twisting motions of his hands and arms, like some exotic mating dance as his head, torso and legs could never agree on which direction to move in. Many of the gestures he made with his hands were things learned from watching the magicians that would often make their way through the swamp he once called home. Were he a more clever individual, performing movements that could potentially summon forth a tiny inferno would be best left out of his routine. But by the One, he had no time for precautions, damn it!
Gryt was a goblin of coin and concoction! There's no room for caution in a world of coin and concoctions! Clearly, caution would completely compromise the concept of coin and concoction, causing chaos. Sure, setting someone on fire would be bad for business, but so would one of his customers actually drinking what he was selling. It had most of the required components for a simple healing potion, but it had been prepared completely wrong. Herbs that should have been ground up were diced, powders that should have been mixed were clumped, and fluids that should have been poured carefully had seen liberal application. There was a good chance that if someone with a weak heart were to consume such a brew, their chest may very well explode. Not in a metaphorical manner either. Literally, their chest would explode open in a powerful blast of crimson fluids and fleshy pink bits. But as the fates would have it, no one had ever mustered the courage nor sported the nose to drink it. More often then not the powerful stench would knock them out before the bottle ever even reached their lips.
Although the many spilled potions had lead to the sudden explosions of several small vermin around town, a mystery to all (including the brewer.)
If only he'd wise up move into pest-control instead of miracle cures.
On this day in particular, no man approached the tiny green salesman as he waved and whistled for their attention. It was like some force from above was keeping the poor unsuspecting masses from a gruesome and foul tasting fate. The goblin sighed and leaned on his stall, the wood creaking as it threatened to fall apart with the application of much more weight. He very quickly decided to take himself off the leaning structure and instead planted his bottom firmly on a small box, making sure that he was positioned neatly in a small square of light that came from in between the tall structures obscuring the sky around him.
That powerful shine from his scalp would catch someones eye eventually, even if it cost them their sight for a short while.
And, hey, what better to fix lost vision than a Goblin miracle cure?
The setting changes from Eldrath to Rivenmarch
Wrex sat alone in the shadow of his cage. One of the countless men that worked for Terral had pulled the canvas down casting the ogre once again in darkness. Wrex preferred the seclusion of his cage to the utter vulnerability of the nothing but the bars between him and those outside. Wrex slowly got to his feet and shifted positions, putting his back to the bars Terral and the cleric had been looking through only minutes prior. The ogre warrior did not have enough room or free reign to stand up straight. He was limited to little more than a deep hunch and a shuffling walk. Wrex did just that as he readjusted himself to put his back to the bars. He began focusing on the words and the meaning there of in each and every word. When Wrex lived in his homeland he knew maybe three or four words in common. His understanding of the language was slightly more in depth yet many meanings and nuances escaped him. In the time Wrex had been a prisoner to Terral he had been slowly teaching himself the language. Having no tutor he'd be resigned to watching and observing those who spoke and mimicking the words. He had to pay close attention to not only the way the words were spoke but the reaction received by them in order to understand their meanings. It was a slow and grueling process but having little else to do he had the time. Wrex believed the language was his key to his freedom. It would be a hidden weapon that would secure his release. While the humans around him saw nothing more than a massive brutish monster, Wrex was carefully watching and waiting for his chance to seize what was taken from him.
Alk huffed and grunted stuffing the stray on the bottom of his cage in to his mouth and chewing it agrily , Vornain his partner since birth was hissing up at him in some disturbed form of language that Alk could actually understand "You should not eat when you're angry. Ruined forest area last time , Yes?" Alk grunted again and felt around the to-small cage that kept him pinned enough that he could not just strech and shatter the whole thing , at least not yet.
Days ago Alkvornain had stopped to rest after their latest seasoning , a time at witch they were vulnerable and weak and even then they had only stopped because they found a group of slimes that they wanted to pat and prod at , pleasant enough company for a lumbering giant and his tired , worn out shade. Through luck normally reserved for people who get randomly struck by lightning or tasty people who trip over a ogre Alk had manged to blindly stumble in to a human camp that was resting and was more then ready for the thing they heard lumbering their way.
Snapped back to reality by Vornain hissing loudly from inside his chest Alks one eye focused on the light that was invading his cage , his teeth chomping unsuccessfully at the dwarven made bars that held him down and his fangs now wrapped around the bar closest to the new human girl that he was apperently to be a sight for. His tusks scraped against the bars , scratching them as he tilted his body as up right as the cage allowed , his one glaring eye down at her and a set of two flaming whites looknig through the hole in Alks gut at her. Alk as a common response among giants blew steam through his concaved nose at the priest , a giants equivalent of 'i'm ignoring you now'.
"If that thing gets loose...." the lady said while staring up at Alks massive fangs that would put just about any creatures chompers to shame as his curtain was pulled back down around his cage. "But it won't get loose , my lady. The only ones in danger here are those things." said the man that Alk had to convince his shade was not worth eating and probably would not live up to his standards. With the last words a dark and echoed chuckle came from the cave , Alk twisting his head to one side as he stared down through the darkness towards his shade. After a brief explanation that like alot of humans these ones assumed giants were carnivors Alk to laughed , his laugh on the other hand was booming , and everytime he slapped his hand against the ground it more a small but distinctive pound , almost like a war drum.
So here the two sat , Alk now ammusedly chomping at the few bits of straw left in his cage and Vornain dining on his regular diet of Alk as the two bit their time to recover their strength.
Days ago Alkvornain had stopped to rest after their latest seasoning , a time at witch they were vulnerable and weak and even then they had only stopped because they found a group of slimes that they wanted to pat and prod at , pleasant enough company for a lumbering giant and his tired , worn out shade. Through luck normally reserved for people who get randomly struck by lightning or tasty people who trip over a ogre Alk had manged to blindly stumble in to a human camp that was resting and was more then ready for the thing they heard lumbering their way.
Snapped back to reality by Vornain hissing loudly from inside his chest Alks one eye focused on the light that was invading his cage , his teeth chomping unsuccessfully at the dwarven made bars that held him down and his fangs now wrapped around the bar closest to the new human girl that he was apperently to be a sight for. His tusks scraped against the bars , scratching them as he tilted his body as up right as the cage allowed , his one glaring eye down at her and a set of two flaming whites looknig through the hole in Alks gut at her. Alk as a common response among giants blew steam through his concaved nose at the priest , a giants equivalent of 'i'm ignoring you now'.
"If that thing gets loose...." the lady said while staring up at Alks massive fangs that would put just about any creatures chompers to shame as his curtain was pulled back down around his cage. "But it won't get loose , my lady. The only ones in danger here are those things." said the man that Alk had to convince his shade was not worth eating and probably would not live up to his standards. With the last words a dark and echoed chuckle came from the cave , Alk twisting his head to one side as he stared down through the darkness towards his shade. After a brief explanation that like alot of humans these ones assumed giants were carnivors Alk to laughed , his laugh on the other hand was booming , and everytime he slapped his hand against the ground it more a small but distinctive pound , almost like a war drum.
So here the two sat , Alk now ammusedly chomping at the few bits of straw left in his cage and Vornain dining on his regular diet of Alk as the two bit their time to recover their strength.
Just outside Rivenmarch in a Caravan Cage
Rongor's life was nothing as it should be. He was minding his own business traveling back to the hole he'd chewed out of a hillside for shelter for now. When he was set upon by more of the annoying Troll hunters. It might have had something to do with the dwarven mining settlement he'd just finished dining at. There had been some elves there but he couldn't help himself. The fat little men made such delicious stews, he still had one by it's leg he'd been dragging for a mile now.
He hadn't been wary of others showing up due to him being groggy and full. Which was a feat in itself. And mithril never did sit well with his stomach. The ensuing battle was about to be another one for his folktales and wanted poster when of all things a guarded caravan came along. It was his fault for ever thinking he could set up so close to the eastern borders. He'd been traveling for so long though, and the trail of food kept getting more and more plentiful.
He took his eyes off the fight just long enough for the scrawny elf he'd had his his paws, about to snap in thrice, to rattle off a spell in desperation. The concussive force of the blast so close sent the two of them sprawling and by the time his head was sitting right he'd already been set upon by chains and the horde of caravan guards.
The thought angered him but with a heavy sigh he lazily scanned from one dark corner of his cage to another. He was slumped into a corner of the cage partially asleep. They'd stop moving and he could tell but he didn't care. He'd been with these oppressors of his for to long. After maiming more then one appendage from more then one of his handlers his most recent one had taken extra precautions. Cursed irons burn at his ever regenerating flesh at the word of his handler whenever he tried to resist. Like others he was used for show for the enjoyment of the food.
Despite his appearance and what the food thought of him, Rongor had a surprising intelligence e to him. Granted he was indeed a primal rage filled carnivore with only food on his mind. But he understood many of the words his captor's used and what the other monsters around him said. He was still actively looking to escape from the food, longing to roam the damp darkness of his homeland. He silently swore to himself that if he escaped he'd bring his left-overs with him instead of trying to overfill.
This very existence enraged him and as much as he wished to just chew through the chains, the bars, the people, and anything else that stood in his way. He knew he couldn't. He'd seen too many monsters before him fall. Besides, aside from the daily torment they did keep him stocked with plenty of strange things to eat.
Rongor's life was nothing as it should be. He was minding his own business traveling back to the hole he'd chewed out of a hillside for shelter for now. When he was set upon by more of the annoying Troll hunters. It might have had something to do with the dwarven mining settlement he'd just finished dining at. There had been some elves there but he couldn't help himself. The fat little men made such delicious stews, he still had one by it's leg he'd been dragging for a mile now.
He hadn't been wary of others showing up due to him being groggy and full. Which was a feat in itself. And mithril never did sit well with his stomach. The ensuing battle was about to be another one for his folktales and wanted poster when of all things a guarded caravan came along. It was his fault for ever thinking he could set up so close to the eastern borders. He'd been traveling for so long though, and the trail of food kept getting more and more plentiful.
He took his eyes off the fight just long enough for the scrawny elf he'd had his his paws, about to snap in thrice, to rattle off a spell in desperation. The concussive force of the blast so close sent the two of them sprawling and by the time his head was sitting right he'd already been set upon by chains and the horde of caravan guards.
The thought angered him but with a heavy sigh he lazily scanned from one dark corner of his cage to another. He was slumped into a corner of the cage partially asleep. They'd stop moving and he could tell but he didn't care. He'd been with these oppressors of his for to long. After maiming more then one appendage from more then one of his handlers his most recent one had taken extra precautions. Cursed irons burn at his ever regenerating flesh at the word of his handler whenever he tried to resist. Like others he was used for show for the enjoyment of the food.
Despite his appearance and what the food thought of him, Rongor had a surprising intelligence e to him. Granted he was indeed a primal rage filled carnivore with only food on his mind. But he understood many of the words his captor's used and what the other monsters around him said. He was still actively looking to escape from the food, longing to roam the damp darkness of his homeland. He silently swore to himself that if he escaped he'd bring his left-overs with him instead of trying to overfill.
This very existence enraged him and as much as he wished to just chew through the chains, the bars, the people, and anything else that stood in his way. He knew he couldn't. He'd seen too many monsters before him fall. Besides, aside from the daily torment they did keep him stocked with plenty of strange things to eat.
The setting changes from Rivenmarch to Blackwood
In a dark room somewhere below Blackwood
Screams of pain deafened Marcos as he rambled through the small room. The screams came again and again from the 14 year old boy tied up to the chair.
As the screams started to fade an old fat man opened the door and entered the room. “Here’s your dagger sir” The man lowered his head and extended his arms.
Marcos took the dagger from the old man and re-focused his attention to the boy in the chair. “Now, where were we?” Marcos looked directly at the boys fearful eyes. “Just tell me when the merchant is planing his move and we can end this.” The boy didn’t respond. “ I can stop the pain, i can make it go away if you tell me what i need to know”.
“He’ll kill me if he finds out’ the boy said in a barely audible voice”.
“Oh but he wont, the brothers have a need for smart boys like yourself ….’” Marcos took a small pause “ Tell me what i need to know and they will surely take you under their wing, train you , protect you.”
Marcos looked at the boys face as if scanning his mind for information. The boy looked away and he promptly felt another jolt of pain moving through his spine numbing his extremities. Marcos grabbed the boy by his hair and pulled his head backwards as the boy screamed in pain. “You will tell me what i need to know, and when you do you will have no choice but to become a brother “ Marcos kept a tight grip as the boy slipped into unconsciousness.
“They always break” said Marcos with a grin on his face.
Marcos released the boy and made a small cut on his fingers with the dagger. Blood started pouring from the boys fingers as the dagger greedily sucked it all up.” This should be enough for a couple of days”
Marcos opened the door and pointed at the old man. “The boy has lost a lot of blood but is still alive, treat him, he is one of your brothers now.” The man lowered his head and stood up without ever looking at Marcos face.
Marcos looked at the man sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. He was a skinny man, pale of skin, a pointy nose like that of a crow, deep brow eyes and scars all over his face, despite this he managed to withstand the weight of a full plate armor and the bastard sword he was so proud of. “I have your information, tell your boss that the merchant is moving the wares in 3 days, he is leaving in the Milosi caravan after dusk” .Marcos extended his hand to the skinny man and said “I believe our business here is done?.”
“Yes yes, of course” said the man in his squeaky voice. “The Milosi caravan Eh?, that’s gonna be a hard one ….. the boss told me to offer you the opportunity to join us in this venture of ours” he said as he jumped to his feet and gave Marcos a small pouch of coins.
“Tell your boss i’ll think about it” Marcos said while counting the coins.
After he was done Marcos followed the skinny man through the hall and up a flight of stairs. He ended up in the backyard of the Crooked Tusk, an old tavern controlled by the brothers and managed by an old orc named Drogo. He entered the old hall and took a sit in a small corner where he proceeded to think of his next move.
Screams of pain deafened Marcos as he rambled through the small room. The screams came again and again from the 14 year old boy tied up to the chair.
As the screams started to fade an old fat man opened the door and entered the room. “Here’s your dagger sir” The man lowered his head and extended his arms.
Marcos took the dagger from the old man and re-focused his attention to the boy in the chair. “Now, where were we?” Marcos looked directly at the boys fearful eyes. “Just tell me when the merchant is planing his move and we can end this.” The boy didn’t respond. “ I can stop the pain, i can make it go away if you tell me what i need to know”.
“He’ll kill me if he finds out’ the boy said in a barely audible voice”.
“Oh but he wont, the brothers have a need for smart boys like yourself ….’” Marcos took a small pause “ Tell me what i need to know and they will surely take you under their wing, train you , protect you.”
Marcos looked at the boys face as if scanning his mind for information. The boy looked away and he promptly felt another jolt of pain moving through his spine numbing his extremities. Marcos grabbed the boy by his hair and pulled his head backwards as the boy screamed in pain. “You will tell me what i need to know, and when you do you will have no choice but to become a brother “ Marcos kept a tight grip as the boy slipped into unconsciousness.
“They always break” said Marcos with a grin on his face.
Marcos released the boy and made a small cut on his fingers with the dagger. Blood started pouring from the boys fingers as the dagger greedily sucked it all up.” This should be enough for a couple of days”
Marcos opened the door and pointed at the old man. “The boy has lost a lot of blood but is still alive, treat him, he is one of your brothers now.” The man lowered his head and stood up without ever looking at Marcos face.
Marcos looked at the man sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. He was a skinny man, pale of skin, a pointy nose like that of a crow, deep brow eyes and scars all over his face, despite this he managed to withstand the weight of a full plate armor and the bastard sword he was so proud of. “I have your information, tell your boss that the merchant is moving the wares in 3 days, he is leaving in the Milosi caravan after dusk” .Marcos extended his hand to the skinny man and said “I believe our business here is done?.”
“Yes yes, of course” said the man in his squeaky voice. “The Milosi caravan Eh?, that’s gonna be a hard one ….. the boss told me to offer you the opportunity to join us in this venture of ours” he said as he jumped to his feet and gave Marcos a small pouch of coins.
“Tell your boss i’ll think about it” Marcos said while counting the coins.
After he was done Marcos followed the skinny man through the hall and up a flight of stairs. He ended up in the backyard of the Crooked Tusk, an old tavern controlled by the brothers and managed by an old orc named Drogo. He entered the old hall and took a sit in a small corner where he proceeded to think of his next move.
The setting changes from Blackwood to Rivenmarch
"And this, your Grace is the troll pen."
"Yes," came the priest's voice, muffled by the hem of her robe, "I can smell it."
"One of the downsides of keeping trolls I'm afraid, but its why we always locate this attraction at the far end of the camp. Still it nets one of our biggest turn outs. Everyone has heard about the troll's ability to regenerate, you know, and everyone is willing to pay a few shillings to see it grow a hand or an arm back from nothing."
The cleric's cold eyes thawed for a brief moment as she viewed the monster bound before her, "you are telling me you mutilate this wretched creature for... entertainment."
"My Lady this wretched creature was captured after having devoured countless souls. According to those who captured the beast he was actually making stew out of..."
"That's enough, Terral," the cleric snapped, eyes frozen once more, "let's move on before my knights faint of the smell."
"Very well, your Holiness, I'll now show you our grandest attraction."
"Most recklessly dangerous one, more like," the Cleric muttered as she followed the plump entertainer out of the stench filled tent.
"Yes," came the priest's voice, muffled by the hem of her robe, "I can smell it."
"One of the downsides of keeping trolls I'm afraid, but its why we always locate this attraction at the far end of the camp. Still it nets one of our biggest turn outs. Everyone has heard about the troll's ability to regenerate, you know, and everyone is willing to pay a few shillings to see it grow a hand or an arm back from nothing."
The cleric's cold eyes thawed for a brief moment as she viewed the monster bound before her, "you are telling me you mutilate this wretched creature for... entertainment."
"My Lady this wretched creature was captured after having devoured countless souls. According to those who captured the beast he was actually making stew out of..."
"That's enough, Terral," the cleric snapped, eyes frozen once more, "let's move on before my knights faint of the smell."
"Very well, your Holiness, I'll now show you our grandest attraction."
"Most recklessly dangerous one, more like," the Cleric muttered as she followed the plump entertainer out of the stench filled tent.
The setting changes from Rivenmarch to Blackwood
The Crooked Tusk’s Hall, Black Wood
Marcos had spent a good portion of his life as a mercenary, twenty-four years as a matter of fact, but he had never felt so at home as he felt in Blackwood . Five years ago, he stumbled on this city while working as a bodyguard for a traveling wealthy man who loved to boast. He spent hours talking about the places he had seen and the beasts he had slain. In the end the city was too much for the man, he lost everything he owned, his clothes, his guards and his mount. He ended up running naked to the wilds, never to be seen again.
After that Marcos decided to stay in the city, he found work here and there and after no time he became a well known mercenary, popular for his ability to obtain information. Blackwood was the perfect place for him. Exhibiting a vast amount of races and cultures all living together in relative peace and what some might call “harmony”. A place with almost no rules or law, this town was controlled by the strong and Marcos liked to think he was one of them. This was a city made for him.
A sudden pat in the back broke Marcos thoughts. ‘ My Friend’ Yelled a big stout man as he grabbed Marcos and gave him a big hug. ‘Gild Told me you accepted to help us assault the Milosi Caravan.’
“I said i would think about it” Said Marcos
“Come on boy, there’s good money on it and maybe even a membership”’
Marcos had always liked this big old man, He was a Stout man of fifty six years, standing at six feet, A full beard and a pale leathery skin. Better with the hammer than any other man he had seen and could crush a man’s chest full with armor with a single blow .He was lively but severe, he liked to drink and eat and was great company. He had founded the brothers 10 years back and quickly became the primer fighting force in Blackwood. The brothers were popular for their services as bodyguards from Blackwood to anywhere in the colonies.
“I didn’t know you were so anxious for a war with the Milosi traders” Said Marcos while taking a bite of the piece of meat in front of him.
“Tensions have risen between us in the past few months, Gild recommends us to strike first. If we succeed we would destroy a very big chunk of their caravans and weaken their hold on the city.”
“Are this goods really that important?”
“It’s not about the goods anymore boy, this Milosi traders came to this city 3 years ago and they already think they are the kings of this lands. They boast to have claimed this lands in the name of the church and claim that they will soon cleanse it of all beasts.” Said Gaile while taking a big gulp of Marcos Beer. “We might be able to take some of the trade routes for ourselves and drive this traders from here. Maybe even become lord of Blackwood myself, and a lord always pays his debts, What do you say boy?”
“Keep the membership, i want the gold, i don’t like to be tied to a single place” Said Marcos while ordering another tankard of beer. “Considering the job i will charge double this time”
“As you wish lad, this will be a great fight, the day that the brother’s rise to the top.”
Marcos had spent a good portion of his life as a mercenary, twenty-four years as a matter of fact, but he had never felt so at home as he felt in Blackwood . Five years ago, he stumbled on this city while working as a bodyguard for a traveling wealthy man who loved to boast. He spent hours talking about the places he had seen and the beasts he had slain. In the end the city was too much for the man, he lost everything he owned, his clothes, his guards and his mount. He ended up running naked to the wilds, never to be seen again.
After that Marcos decided to stay in the city, he found work here and there and after no time he became a well known mercenary, popular for his ability to obtain information. Blackwood was the perfect place for him. Exhibiting a vast amount of races and cultures all living together in relative peace and what some might call “harmony”. A place with almost no rules or law, this town was controlled by the strong and Marcos liked to think he was one of them. This was a city made for him.
A sudden pat in the back broke Marcos thoughts. ‘ My Friend’ Yelled a big stout man as he grabbed Marcos and gave him a big hug. ‘Gild Told me you accepted to help us assault the Milosi Caravan.’
“I said i would think about it” Said Marcos
“Come on boy, there’s good money on it and maybe even a membership”’
Marcos had always liked this big old man, He was a Stout man of fifty six years, standing at six feet, A full beard and a pale leathery skin. Better with the hammer than any other man he had seen and could crush a man’s chest full with armor with a single blow .He was lively but severe, he liked to drink and eat and was great company. He had founded the brothers 10 years back and quickly became the primer fighting force in Blackwood. The brothers were popular for their services as bodyguards from Blackwood to anywhere in the colonies.
“I didn’t know you were so anxious for a war with the Milosi traders” Said Marcos while taking a bite of the piece of meat in front of him.
“Tensions have risen between us in the past few months, Gild recommends us to strike first. If we succeed we would destroy a very big chunk of their caravans and weaken their hold on the city.”
“Are this goods really that important?”
“It’s not about the goods anymore boy, this Milosi traders came to this city 3 years ago and they already think they are the kings of this lands. They boast to have claimed this lands in the name of the church and claim that they will soon cleanse it of all beasts.” Said Gaile while taking a big gulp of Marcos Beer. “We might be able to take some of the trade routes for ourselves and drive this traders from here. Maybe even become lord of Blackwood myself, and a lord always pays his debts, What do you say boy?”
“Keep the membership, i want the gold, i don’t like to be tied to a single place” Said Marcos while ordering another tankard of beer. “Considering the job i will charge double this time”
“As you wish lad, this will be a great fight, the day that the brother’s rise to the top.”
The setting changes from Blackwood to Rivenmarch
The Road West of Rivenmarch
"What could a cleric possibly be doing in a place like this?" Tadik thought.
She had only just arrived with a caravan of guards and was talking with the strange man Tadik had seen scurrying about the encampment all morning.
"This has to be the place," Tadik thought, taking in the sheer number of cages and tents. As he memorized the layout, the cleric and the strange man entered one of the larger tents. Tadik took notice and began to sneak around the edge of the camp site. He knew that to make an outright move now would mean his untimely demise, but he was beginning to formulate a plan. He only needed the timing and circumstances to be just right.
As he reached the side of the camp closest to the large tent, the cleric and the man emerged and began to make their way toward another tent that was slightly smaller than the one they'd just left.
Tadik's stomach turned as he thought about the poor souls being held captive in such a place.
"But maybe the tables can still be turned," he mused, grinning darkly to himself.
The cleric emerged from the tent, still obviously unimpressed with what the strange man had shown her so far.
The man motioned for the cleric to follow him into yet another tent. From the reaction the cleric gave, it was obvious that whatever was inside this third tent did not smell pleasant. She had covered her face, which had turned a shade of green that could make a goblin jealous, with a fold from her robe.
"It must be a troll," thought Tadik, "Only the stench of a troll could cause a reaction like that from a human."
Tadik watched as they entered the tent briefly, only to re-emerge and move onward to a point that was obstructed from Tadik's vision by the edge of a tent. As soon as he was sure that no one was watching, he quietly moved around the edge of the tent he was hiding by and slipped through the entrance. There, behind iron bars and bound by shackles from his neck and limbs, sat a large, very angry looking Ogre.
"Thu'ar-blöd, blood cousin," Tadik greeted the Ogre with the respectful Orcish greeting, "I have come to offer my assistance. What say you?"
"What could a cleric possibly be doing in a place like this?" Tadik thought.
She had only just arrived with a caravan of guards and was talking with the strange man Tadik had seen scurrying about the encampment all morning.
"This has to be the place," Tadik thought, taking in the sheer number of cages and tents. As he memorized the layout, the cleric and the strange man entered one of the larger tents. Tadik took notice and began to sneak around the edge of the camp site. He knew that to make an outright move now would mean his untimely demise, but he was beginning to formulate a plan. He only needed the timing and circumstances to be just right.
As he reached the side of the camp closest to the large tent, the cleric and the man emerged and began to make their way toward another tent that was slightly smaller than the one they'd just left.
Tadik's stomach turned as he thought about the poor souls being held captive in such a place.
"But maybe the tables can still be turned," he mused, grinning darkly to himself.
The cleric emerged from the tent, still obviously unimpressed with what the strange man had shown her so far.
The man motioned for the cleric to follow him into yet another tent. From the reaction the cleric gave, it was obvious that whatever was inside this third tent did not smell pleasant. She had covered her face, which had turned a shade of green that could make a goblin jealous, with a fold from her robe.
"It must be a troll," thought Tadik, "Only the stench of a troll could cause a reaction like that from a human."
Tadik watched as they entered the tent briefly, only to re-emerge and move onward to a point that was obstructed from Tadik's vision by the edge of a tent. As soon as he was sure that no one was watching, he quietly moved around the edge of the tent he was hiding by and slipped through the entrance. There, behind iron bars and bound by shackles from his neck and limbs, sat a large, very angry looking Ogre.
"Thu'ar-blöd, blood cousin," Tadik greeted the Ogre with the respectful Orcish greeting, "I have come to offer my assistance. What say you?"
Terral hustled his guests along over muddy ground and toward a particularly decorative pavillion, complete with fluttering pennants and gold trim. The cleric's eyes continued roving, though, and caught upon a dark tent pitched far in the rear of the camp. She pointed, "what's in that one."
"Oh that, its...ah, the imp show."
"Imp Show?..."
"Yes.. zany little monsters but you don't want to bother yourselves with them."
"Oh and why not."
"Well they...uh...get very rowdy before feeding time and they like to throw their...'you know'...at anyone in range."
Dalaine shuddered, "how utterly revolting, well I guess a few rats with wings are the least of this place's dangers."
"Quite right," Terral agreed, breathing a quiet sigh of relief, "quite right, now just step inside and I'll show you my personal favorite."
Merrin let the flap close and turned to the skeleton caged behind him. Were it not for the light in its sockets, one might have mistaken it for the remains of a long dead prisoner. Merrin new better, corpses did not wax philosophical. "You best be thankful; the boss just saved your bones. Cleric might've looked the other way on trolls and what not, but there's no way she'd stay her blade from your unnatural neck." When no response came from the lipless mouth, Merrin went back to his work, painting ghostly scenes on the boards which flanked the cage. In a camp of thirty beef-necks and con-men, he was the only artist. Atmosphere, that was his job, and it was at least as vital to the operation as the shoveling of troll dung. You could have all the beasts in the Wilds but if you didn't have atmosphere, where was the show? Merrin often talked to the monsters as he arranged the decor in each of their respective tents. Others might call him mad for talking to a set of bones, but he knew that beyond its empty sockets and despite its empty skull the undead possessed a discerning intellect, one few others, most especially a priestess, could appreciate.
"You're quiet today," he offered as he put the final brushstrokes on a floating phantasm.
"Oh that, its...ah, the imp show."
"Imp Show?..."
"Yes.. zany little monsters but you don't want to bother yourselves with them."
"Oh and why not."
"Well they...uh...get very rowdy before feeding time and they like to throw their...'you know'...at anyone in range."
Dalaine shuddered, "how utterly revolting, well I guess a few rats with wings are the least of this place's dangers."
"Quite right," Terral agreed, breathing a quiet sigh of relief, "quite right, now just step inside and I'll show you my personal favorite."
Merrin let the flap close and turned to the skeleton caged behind him. Were it not for the light in its sockets, one might have mistaken it for the remains of a long dead prisoner. Merrin new better, corpses did not wax philosophical. "You best be thankful; the boss just saved your bones. Cleric might've looked the other way on trolls and what not, but there's no way she'd stay her blade from your unnatural neck." When no response came from the lipless mouth, Merrin went back to his work, painting ghostly scenes on the boards which flanked the cage. In a camp of thirty beef-necks and con-men, he was the only artist. Atmosphere, that was his job, and it was at least as vital to the operation as the shoveling of troll dung. You could have all the beasts in the Wilds but if you didn't have atmosphere, where was the show? Merrin often talked to the monsters as he arranged the decor in each of their respective tents. Others might call him mad for talking to a set of bones, but he knew that beyond its empty sockets and despite its empty skull the undead possessed a discerning intellect, one few others, most especially a priestess, could appreciate.
"You're quiet today," he offered as he put the final brushstrokes on a floating phantasm.
Wrex sat hunched over in an uncomfortable crouch, quietly muttering the words of the human language to himself over and over again in his bid to master it and secure his freedom when a voice reached his ears that made his heart soar.
"Thu'ar-blöd, blood cousin,"
Wrex whipped around in his cell to the source of the voice to find an orc. Small in stature for his breed, with jet black hair that he had pulled back out of his face. His bright ruby colored eyes gleamed in the darkness. Wrex could gauge his youth by the growth of his small tusks only barely beginning to jut past his lips. The orc could have been an infant or an ancient Wrex was just happy to see a friendly face.
"I have come to offer my assistance. What say you?"
The young orc continued in the human tongue. A wide toothy grin dawned on Wrex's face exposing his massive set of gleaming teeth and tusks both in joy at seeing a blood cousin as well as his foresight to teach himself the human language for otherwise this exchange would have proven quite difficult.
"Tol Voshoth! Aka'Magosh!"
Wrex said reciting an old Ogre blessing onto the orc and his kin before breaking into common for the first time since he'd taught himself the language.
"I am.... happy... to have hear youngling!"
Wrex replied. The words felt foreign in his mouth, slithering past his tusks. The human language felt weak and lifeless in comparison to his own yet it had its uses. Wrex moved himself as close to the bars and the young orc as possible before the chains restricted him, yanking him back a step. Wrex growled and grabbed the collar around his neck to ease the discomfort.
"Gezzno chains..."
He growled in frustration before continuing.
"Free me... And I will crush many humans Tol Voshoth."
Wrex's tone was alive with barely contained excitement and anticipation for he fully intended to drown the grass with blood once he was free.
"Thu'ar-blöd, blood cousin,"
Wrex whipped around in his cell to the source of the voice to find an orc. Small in stature for his breed, with jet black hair that he had pulled back out of his face. His bright ruby colored eyes gleamed in the darkness. Wrex could gauge his youth by the growth of his small tusks only barely beginning to jut past his lips. The orc could have been an infant or an ancient Wrex was just happy to see a friendly face.
"I have come to offer my assistance. What say you?"
The young orc continued in the human tongue. A wide toothy grin dawned on Wrex's face exposing his massive set of gleaming teeth and tusks both in joy at seeing a blood cousin as well as his foresight to teach himself the human language for otherwise this exchange would have proven quite difficult.
"Tol Voshoth! Aka'Magosh!"
Wrex said reciting an old Ogre blessing onto the orc and his kin before breaking into common for the first time since he'd taught himself the language.
"I am.... happy... to have hear youngling!"
Wrex replied. The words felt foreign in his mouth, slithering past his tusks. The human language felt weak and lifeless in comparison to his own yet it had its uses. Wrex moved himself as close to the bars and the young orc as possible before the chains restricted him, yanking him back a step. Wrex growled and grabbed the collar around his neck to ease the discomfort.
"Gezzno chains..."
He growled in frustration before continuing.
"Free me... And I will crush many humans Tol Voshoth."
Wrex's tone was alive with barely contained excitement and anticipation for he fully intended to drown the grass with blood once he was free.
The Ogre whipped around and gave Tadik one of the largest smiles he had ever seen.
"Tol Voshoth! Aka'Magosh!" He exclaimed, "I am most grateful youngling!"
The Ogre stood and began to walk towards the bars of his cage, but was stopped in his tracks by the shortness of his restraints. He reached up and grasped the large metal collar.
"Gezzno chains..." the Ogre swore, "Free me... And I will crush many humans Tol Voshoth."
Tadik knew the Ogre was excited by the tone of his voice and the fire that had erupted in his eyes. Tadik began to look around the tent for anything that could be useful to open the cage, but saw nothing of immediate usefulness. He reached out and grabbed one of the bars, testing its pliability.
It would not budge. Even the edges of the cage where the bars met the top and bottom were made from iron.
The top of the cage, however, were made from very dry, very dark wood.
"Hold tight, brother," said Tadik, "I have an idea."
Tadik jumped and grabbed the top of the cage, lifting himself onto the top. He crouched low so that he would not cause disturbances in the tent fabric. He scrutinized the boards for signs of weakness or stress in the wood. He began to knock on the boards, testing for the place the wood was the thinnest.
After several moments of searching, Tadik found the spot he was looking for. He reached to his side and drew his steel dagger which he kept sharper than a razor. He lifted the dagger just over his head and plunged it downward with frightening force.
The dagger stuck into the wood, but did not pierce completely through.
"I can work with that," Tadik thought.
He sheathed his dagger and listened for a moment, picking out the rhythm of the men pounding their hammers outside. Once he had it timed properly, Tadik put on a thick hide glove and brought his fist down over the crack his dagger had made. The force of his blow caused the crack to spread.
Tadik grinned. His plan was working. he continued to bring his fist down over the crack, gradually causing it to spread several feet. One edge of it had reached the iron rim of the cage and was beginning to shake when Tadik pounded the boards.
Tadik went to the edge of the cage and pressed on the loose board with all of his weight. He could feel it starting to give way, the fibers slowly separating. Suddenly, with a snap, the board gave way. Tadik nearly lost his balance and fell into the cage, but managed to catch himself.
"Hral!" He quietly swore. He prayed that no one had heard the board cracking. If they had, he only had a very short time before they arrived, and he still needed to free the Ogre from his shackles. The shackles were thick and would not break easily under blunt force. They were meant to hold an Ogre, after all.
There was not time for him to jump down and pick the lock. Tadik had very little experience with lock picking.
Then, a thought struck Tadik.
"The chains were meant to hold ONE Ogre..."
He leaped down into the cage, moving quickly and deliberately.
"Take the chain that is attached to your right arm, brother. Pull with me."
"Tol Voshoth! Aka'Magosh!" He exclaimed, "I am most grateful youngling!"
The Ogre stood and began to walk towards the bars of his cage, but was stopped in his tracks by the shortness of his restraints. He reached up and grasped the large metal collar.
"Gezzno chains..." the Ogre swore, "Free me... And I will crush many humans Tol Voshoth."
Tadik knew the Ogre was excited by the tone of his voice and the fire that had erupted in his eyes. Tadik began to look around the tent for anything that could be useful to open the cage, but saw nothing of immediate usefulness. He reached out and grabbed one of the bars, testing its pliability.
It would not budge. Even the edges of the cage where the bars met the top and bottom were made from iron.
The top of the cage, however, were made from very dry, very dark wood.
"Hold tight, brother," said Tadik, "I have an idea."
Tadik jumped and grabbed the top of the cage, lifting himself onto the top. He crouched low so that he would not cause disturbances in the tent fabric. He scrutinized the boards for signs of weakness or stress in the wood. He began to knock on the boards, testing for the place the wood was the thinnest.
After several moments of searching, Tadik found the spot he was looking for. He reached to his side and drew his steel dagger which he kept sharper than a razor. He lifted the dagger just over his head and plunged it downward with frightening force.
The dagger stuck into the wood, but did not pierce completely through.
"I can work with that," Tadik thought.
He sheathed his dagger and listened for a moment, picking out the rhythm of the men pounding their hammers outside. Once he had it timed properly, Tadik put on a thick hide glove and brought his fist down over the crack his dagger had made. The force of his blow caused the crack to spread.
Tadik grinned. His plan was working. he continued to bring his fist down over the crack, gradually causing it to spread several feet. One edge of it had reached the iron rim of the cage and was beginning to shake when Tadik pounded the boards.
Tadik went to the edge of the cage and pressed on the loose board with all of his weight. He could feel it starting to give way, the fibers slowly separating. Suddenly, with a snap, the board gave way. Tadik nearly lost his balance and fell into the cage, but managed to catch himself.
"Hral!" He quietly swore. He prayed that no one had heard the board cracking. If they had, he only had a very short time before they arrived, and he still needed to free the Ogre from his shackles. The shackles were thick and would not break easily under blunt force. They were meant to hold an Ogre, after all.
There was not time for him to jump down and pick the lock. Tadik had very little experience with lock picking.
Then, a thought struck Tadik.
"The chains were meant to hold ONE Ogre..."
He leaped down into the cage, moving quickly and deliberately.
"Take the chain that is attached to your right arm, brother. Pull with me."
As Fera listened to the conversation that was just taking place a few metres from the tent; she could hear only a small portion but with that she would have had a wide grin on her face if she could.
It was humorous. The idea of monsters flinging fecies from cages onto humans said many things: "I may be caged like an animal but at least I'm cleaner then you" or "Maybe I'll never leave but you'll never take away my freedom". For even a moment; perhaps it could show a human for seconds of time what a monster has felt for days, weeks, and months on end.
Throwing poop is rebellion in it's dirtiest form.
"You best be thankful; the boss just saved your bones. Cleric might've looked the other way on trolls and what not, but there's no way she'd stay her blade from your unnatural neck."
The skeleton's attention was back on Merrin, an surprising acquantece that Fera had made, for reasons that were obvious. While the humans are thickheaded, bulky, and combat oriented, Merrin was understanding (more understanding), lithe, and artistic with a brush. It was surprising to think he was even human.
She analysed his words for the moment and tried to decipher the word cleric. Cleric was connected to holy and holy was connected with humans with swords who swear to smite all they are ignorant of. If only they could truly smite evil; a mass suicide would follow and life would be a little bit better for everyone else. Perhaps ignorace is bliss but bliss is poisonous.
"You're quiet today," Merrin said just as he finished the last brushstroke on the misty figure of a ghost, obviously well done with deserved artistic merit, but by no far an actual represetation of a ghost. It seemed to be something that'd choke with fear, caustic in apperence, and deadly in nature. The saddest thing is that ghosts still had a soul and this is how they are pictured.
"Yes." Fera had said without malice; looking side-by-side at the scary night art that was by the sides of her cage and strangely gave her a small bit of comfort.
"Fear. It seems you humans are fond of it like a double edged sword. This theology was made to shield yourselves from fear but it has only served as a way to segregate everyone, dispell the flow of intelligence, and provoke a genocide the humans will gradually commit. Yet this room is made to look like fear itself, with reputable art that invokes it, and myself as a center piece."
She stopped for a moment and tilted her head towards Merrin.
"This isn't all is it? What is next? What will I be forced to perform? Shall I be skewered? Taken apart? Quartered and murdered?" Fera spoke quickly, the same madness called fear creeping up behind her, sights desperately on her only sad excuse as a friend for an answer that she needed to know.
It was humorous. The idea of monsters flinging fecies from cages onto humans said many things: "I may be caged like an animal but at least I'm cleaner then you" or "Maybe I'll never leave but you'll never take away my freedom". For even a moment; perhaps it could show a human for seconds of time what a monster has felt for days, weeks, and months on end.
Throwing poop is rebellion in it's dirtiest form.
"You best be thankful; the boss just saved your bones. Cleric might've looked the other way on trolls and what not, but there's no way she'd stay her blade from your unnatural neck."
The skeleton's attention was back on Merrin, an surprising acquantece that Fera had made, for reasons that were obvious. While the humans are thickheaded, bulky, and combat oriented, Merrin was understanding (more understanding), lithe, and artistic with a brush. It was surprising to think he was even human.
She analysed his words for the moment and tried to decipher the word cleric. Cleric was connected to holy and holy was connected with humans with swords who swear to smite all they are ignorant of. If only they could truly smite evil; a mass suicide would follow and life would be a little bit better for everyone else. Perhaps ignorace is bliss but bliss is poisonous.
"You're quiet today," Merrin said just as he finished the last brushstroke on the misty figure of a ghost, obviously well done with deserved artistic merit, but by no far an actual represetation of a ghost. It seemed to be something that'd choke with fear, caustic in apperence, and deadly in nature. The saddest thing is that ghosts still had a soul and this is how they are pictured.
"Yes." Fera had said without malice; looking side-by-side at the scary night art that was by the sides of her cage and strangely gave her a small bit of comfort.
"Fear. It seems you humans are fond of it like a double edged sword. This theology was made to shield yourselves from fear but it has only served as a way to segregate everyone, dispell the flow of intelligence, and provoke a genocide the humans will gradually commit. Yet this room is made to look like fear itself, with reputable art that invokes it, and myself as a center piece."
She stopped for a moment and tilted her head towards Merrin.
"This isn't all is it? What is next? What will I be forced to perform? Shall I be skewered? Taken apart? Quartered and murdered?" Fera spoke quickly, the same madness called fear creeping up behind her, sights desperately on her only sad excuse as a friend for an answer that she needed to know.
- 49 posts here • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
View All »Arcs
Arcs are bundles of posts that you can organize on your own. They're useful for telling a story that might span long periods of time or space.
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Game Master Controls
Welcome home, Promethean. Here, you can manage your universe.
Arcs
Arcs are bundles of posts from any location, allowing you to easily capture sub-plots which might be spread out across multiple locations.
Add Quest » Quests
You can create Quests with various rewards, encouraging your players to engage with specific plot lines.
Add Setting » 16 Settings for your players to play in
Settings are the backdrop for the characters in your universe, giving meaning and context to their existence. By creating a number of well-written locations, you can organize your universe into areas and regions.
Navigation
While not required, locations can be organized onto a map. More information soon!
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Collectibles
By creating Collectibles, you can reward your players with unique items that accentuate their character sheets.
Once an Item has been created, it can be spawned in the IC using /spawn Item Name (case-sensitive, as usual) — this can be followed with /take Item Name to retrieve the item into the current character's inventory.
Mobs
Give your Universe life by adding a Mob, which are auto-replenishing NPCs your players can interact with. Useful for some quick hack-and-slash fun!
Mobs can be automated spawns, like rats and bats, or full-on NPCs complete with conversation menus. Use them to enhance your player experience!
Current Mobs
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Spawns
Locations where Mobs and Items might appear.
Events
You can schedule events for your players to create notifications and schedule times for everyone to plan around.
Orphanage
By marking a character as abandoned, you can offer them to your players as pre-made character sheets.
The Forge
Use your INK to craft new artifacts in Through Monstrous Eyes. Once created, Items cannot be changed, but they can be bought and sold in the marketplace.
Notable Items
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The Market
Buy, sell, and even craft your own items in this universe.
Market DataMarket conditions are Quick Buy (Items Most Recently Listed for Sale) |
Open Stores
View All » Add Character » 20 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Julius Hargrave
A powerful knight who roams the western lands.
Svisisen Ugal
"my blood to my sisters, my allegiance to the forest"
Avyssos
A young dungeon lord nearing the end of his pilgrimage.
Rongor
Why does the food try to reason?
Marcos Stark
A dhampir with a vast expirience in unarmed combat and mind magic. He has travel the world and is proficient in most languages and cultures.
Nevarial Lialill Heseeraphylyll
The paragon of elven beauty and arrogance.
Miranda LaFonte
The banshee maiden
Gryt
A self-proclaimed goblin master of alchemy and demolition. If only self-proclaiming something actually made it true.
Talin Castor
An enterprising young wererat woman with a (slightly) eldritch sword.
Trending
Nevarial Lialill Heseeraphylyll
The paragon of elven beauty and arrogance.
Urdnot Wrex
A ferocious example of the not so gentle giants of Tuchanka.
Poyo
Squeak squeak squeak squeeeeeak!
Zzzar "The sleeper"
The Gargoyle
Avyssos
A young dungeon lord nearing the end of his pilgrimage.
Talin Castor
An enterprising young wererat woman with a (slightly) eldritch sword.
Svisisen Ugal
"my blood to my sisters, my allegiance to the forest"
Vilkauti (Gnoll)
One of the bipedal hyena-like peoples known as 'Gnolls', Vilkauti is a cool-headed, mild-mannered and overall somewhat playful character. While not the most adamant warrior, he is a stalwart companion to the last.
Rongor
Why does the food try to reason?
Gryt
A self-proclaimed goblin master of alchemy and demolition. If only self-proclaiming something actually made it true.
Most Followed
Vilkauti (Gnoll)
One of the bipedal hyena-like peoples known as 'Gnolls', Vilkauti is a cool-headed, mild-mannered and overall somewhat playful character. While not the most adamant warrior, he is a stalwart companion to the last.
Poyo
Squeak squeak squeak squeeeeeak!
Avyssos
A young dungeon lord nearing the end of his pilgrimage.
Julius Hargrave
A powerful knight who roams the western lands.
Talin Castor
An enterprising young wererat woman with a (slightly) eldritch sword.
Fera
"I think therefore I am."
Miranda LaFonte
The banshee maiden
Urdnot Wrex
A ferocious example of the not so gentle giants of Tuchanka.
Svisisen Ugal
"my blood to my sisters, my allegiance to the forest"
Rongor
Why does the food try to reason?
View All » Places
30 posts · 7 characters present · last post 2012-02-19 14:41:02 »
Cathandria ↪ Rivenmarch Owner: RolePlayGateway
A bustling market town located at a crossroads between several of the most prosperous villages and connected to the sea ports by a stable and deep river.
12 posts · 2 characters present · last post 2012-02-18 05:41:36 »
Shadowspruce Forest ↪ Blackwood Owner: RolePlayGateway
The farthermost settlement of civilization is a chaotic and lawless town whose population is a mix of dwarves, humans, elves and even monsters.
3 posts · 2 characters present · last post 2012-02-16 00:52:25 »
Ishar (Draconia, The New World) ↪ The Wilds Owner: RolePlayGateway
The uncivilized region of the Northern subcontinent stretching from the outskirts of the colonies to the base of the Gray Mountains which is characterized by rugged landscapes and temperate forests.
4 posts · 9 characters present · last post 2012-02-09 03:30:12 »
Eldrath Owner: Scumbag_Brain
A lush planet home to a great diversity of sentient lifeforms.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
The Wilds ↪ Shadowspruce Forest Owner: RolePlayGateway
A deep and unexplored coniferous forest located in the Northern reaches of the wild.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
A northern mountain range rising out of the wilds and extending into the dwarven colony of Duerheim.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Eldrath ↪ The Underdark (Utherdrauge) Owner: RolePlayGateway
A mysterious subterranean realm of tunnels and caverns which reaches down to the very bowls of Eldrath.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
The Wilds ↪ Clouded Plains Owner: RolePlayGateway
A high plain which reaches to the rocky feet of the Gray Mountains and is characterized by thick mists.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Ishar (Draconia, The New World) ↪ Blackmuck Swamp (Bootbane Swamp) Owner: RolePlayGateway
A nearly impenetrable saltwater marsh separating the northern subcontinent from the southern and the human from the elven colony.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Ishar (Draconia, The New World) ↪ The Gray Mountains Owner: RolePlayGateway
The Gray Mountains stand as a symbol of the unknown. Their mists shroud not only their own peaks but the lands at their base, drifting outward like blanket to cover the earth.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Eldrath ↪ Ishar (Draconia, The New World) Owner: RolePlayGateway
The New Continent, discovered recently by the crusaders but long home to a diverse population of monsters.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Eldrath ↪ Aurath (The Old World) Owner: RolePlayGateway
A large continent largely temperate in climate and ruled absolutely by three monarchies. Home to elves, dwarves and men.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Ishar (Draconia, The New World) ↪ New Arcadia Owner: RolePlayGateway
The elven colony, a shining recreation of the splendorous elven home across the sea complete with golden Orin Trees and spiraling crystal towers.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Ishar (Draconia, The New World) ↪ Duerheim (The Scar) Owner: RolePlayGateway
Meaning simply Dwarf Home, Duerheim is much more akin to a huge industrial project than a settlement. Even it's political structure mirrors this, being ruled by foreman rather than magistrates.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Ishar (Draconia, The New World) ↪ Cathandria Owner: RolePlayGateway
Named for the Saint Cathandra, the human colony is a proud religious farming community which sees the conversion of subhuman monsters as it's holy duty.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Ishar (Draconia, The New World) ↪ Kandazur (Stilvahen, the Jungle of Ishar) Owner: RolePlayGateway
Bordering the colony of New Arcadia and dominating the souther subcontinent, Kandazur is an ancient jungle so teaming with life that the ground itself is said to 'crawl'.
Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Through Monstrous Eyes: Out of Character
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Through Monstrous Eyes
1 ... 13, 14, 15by Scumbag_Brain on Wed Jan 25, 2012 8:24 pm
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- Last post by Wake
on Fri Feb 24, 2012 8:43 pm
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Through Monstrous Eyes
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The Pantheon
by Wake on Fri Feb 10, 2012 8:48 pm
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- Last post by Bromander Shepard
on Mon Feb 13, 2012 11:37 pm
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The Pantheon
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Monsters Manual
1, 2by Scumbag_Brain on Fri Jan 27, 2012 4:03 pm
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- Last post by Butterfly Effect
on Fri Feb 10, 2012 9:26 pm
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Monsters Manual
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Techniques
by Scumbag_Brain on Sat Feb 04, 2012 4:53 pm
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- Last post by TechGorilla
on Sun Feb 05, 2012 5:30 pm
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Techniques
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Geography
by Scumbag_Brain on Mon Jan 30, 2012 2:48 pm
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- Last post by Wake
on Sat Feb 04, 2012 8:08 pm
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Geography
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