The Rise of Githya & The Battle of Khadur

[Akesha]

The History of Clan Redblade

Mok'ra Orcs. The time has finally come to tell the story of the old Clan Redblade, This is the story of the legendary origins of the Red Blade Tribe and I hope it will inspire, interest and maybe even entertain a few of you. To save you from walls of text, I'm going to tell the tale in short and (hopefully) weekly parts.

Regards

Akesha

Part 1 â€" The Rise of Githya

Many, many lives ago on Dreanor, the world of our birth, there was a small but proud clan of orcs. The Ironfoot Clan they were called and in that time, their leader was Mugruk the Fat, Mugruk was a vicious orc, prone to violent rages, He was more feared than loved by his people. Yet, there was one of Mugruk's house that the people did love; a young warrior named Githya. He had a noble face and was a fine warrior, but he was perhaps a little too proud.

Now, the time came for the Ironfoot Clan to pay tribute to the Overlord of the Northern Clans. Swords, gold, luxurious furs; all were loaded onto wagons for the journey to the Overlord's Hall. A band of warriors was assembled to protect this valuable cargo and Githya, Mugruk's favourite, was made to lead them. They set off, but the wagons would never reach their destination.

In the hills north of the Ironfoot's lands, there were bandits. One sunset, as the wagons had stopped to make camp, these bandits attacked in overwhelming force. The Ironfoot warriors could not stand against such numbers and were killed, but the bandits spared the life of Githya, recognising that he was an orc of some importance. They took him prisoner and decided that they would ransom him back to his clan.

The first messenger sent by the bandits did not return. Mugruk flew into a rage on hearing his news and beheaded him on the spot. The second messenger found Mugruk in a better mood and returned to the bandits saying that Mugruk had offered a thousand pieces of gold for Githya's safe return. Mugruk expected that the riders he saw approaching his hall, some days later, would be Githya returning, but it was not. More messengers from the bandits had come and were taken to see the corpulent chieftain.

Somewhat nervously, they told him that one thousand pieces of gold was not enough and he must offer more. Mugruk went into a rage and beat his fists on his chair. The messengers were more than a little afraid, but when he calmed himself, Mugruk told them that he would offer two thousand pieces of gold. The bandits returned home with the message and their lives.

Four days later, six bandits rode up to Mugruk's hall and asked to see him. They knelt in respect before the feared chief and said that two thousand pieces of gold was not enough. They said that only five thousand pieces of gold was the equal to Githya's worth as a warrior. Mugruk was furious. He stood up and taking his chair, he smashed it into firewood and then beat the messengers to death with the legs.

Eventually he calmed and realised that he must pay or never see his favourite warrior again. So, he charged two of his soldiers with the task of taking the five thousand pieces of gold to the bandit camp. They rode north with heavy bags of coin, but when they arrived they found a strange thing indeed.

You see, these bandits had treated Githya as an honoured guest. Each evening he ate with their leader, Rorlug the Black. They would talk long into the night about battles and deeds of great heroes. When the messenger first returned with Mugruk's offer of one thousand coins, Rorlug considered this price. He thought it was not a bad offer. One thousand coins was a lot to bandits in those days, but Githya said,

“I hope you are not going to accept it.”

“What's that?” asked Rorlug. “Why should I not? It is a lot of money, more than we make in a whole summer of robbing merchants.”

“I am worth more”, said Githya. “In fact, I would take it as an insult if you thought that one thousand coins was a good price for me.”

Rorlug pondered this a while and decided to send back more messengers. They returned with an offer of two thousand gold coins. This time Rorlug was happy to accept. Two thousand coins was a fortune and the bandits would all be rich. He went to tell Githya the news.

“If two thousand coins is a fortune to you, then you are in the wrong trade”, retorted Githya.

“What trade should I be in then?” asked Rorlug, growing slightly annoyed at Githya's arrogance.

“You risk you lives for poor rewards. You're hunted and hated by all the northern clans, for the scum that you are. Now calm yourself”, said Githya, seeing Rorlug's growing anger. “Do you want riches and power? Then do what I ask.”

And so it was, that when Mugruk's soldiers rode into Rorlug's camp, they were shown into a tent to find Githya and Rorlug sitting side by side, like comrades in arms.

“You have brought our gold?” asked Githya. “Excellent. That will set us up nicely in our new trade.” He smiled broadly at Mugruk's warriors and said, “I give you a new task now. Go tell all the chiefs of the north that I, Githya, have pacified the bandits of the hills. Tell them that they are bandits no longer. We are mercenaries now … and we are for hire.”

[Kozgugore]

I like the sound of this! Looking forward to seeing more of it in the future. Always nice to see a bit of lore from the past.

[Akesha]

Part 2 – In Mugruk's Hall

Githya's fame as a mercenary quickly grew. With Rorlug at his side, more and more orcs joined his army until it began to rival some of the smaller clans in size and strength. This did not please Mugruk the Fat one bit and he began to plot his revenge on the warrior that had once been his favourite.

Winter came early one year. The snows lay thick upon the hills and it was time for Githya's and Rorlug's soldiers to settle down and wait for spring to come. Their army had much to celebrate. Each orc's purse was heavy with gold, paid by Hurgan Grimbrow, Overlord of the Northern Clans. Hurgan's enemies had raided his farms that summer and Githya had made them pay in both blood and gold for their audacity, earning the Overlord's gratitude in return. One cold evening, as dusk fell, a messenger rode into Githya's camp.

“My chief, Mugruk of the Ironfoot Clan, bids you good health General Githya”, announced the messenger. “Further more, he wishes it to be known that he bears no ill will towards his former warrior. In fact, he commanded me to invite you and your captains to feast with him in his hall.”

Githya could not refuse without offending Mugruk, who was still a powerful clan chief, so he set out with Rorlug, his captains and an honour guard of orc warriors. Three days later they arrived at Mugruk's Hall to be met by the Chieftain.

Mugruk made a great show of welcoming Githya as if he were a long lost son returned. He and his orcs took off all of their weapons and armour and left them outside the hall. Then he bade Githya and his captains to do the same as a sign of trust. The orcs went into the hall where a great fire raged against the cold and a feast was laid out ready.

The orcs ate and drank and sang and soon old rivalries seemed forgotten. All was not as it appeared however, for while Githya's orcs had grown drunk on Mugruk's ale, the Ironfoot orcs had only given the pretence of drinking. At a signal from Mugruk each of his orcs drew out the dagger that they had hidden in their sleeves and made to attack Githya's captains. Many were killed before they even had time to react and although the rest tried to fight back, unarmed and drunk on ale, they quickly fell.

Githya barely escaped. Pulling a flaming brand from the fire, he whorled it about his head, driving Mugruk's orcs back. Then, smashing one great Ironfoot soldier to the ground, he fled to the door and out into the night. No other orc escaped Mugruk's trap that night. Rorlug the Black and all of Githya's captains were slain, but Mugruk would come to regret his treachery.

[Akesha]

Part 3 â€" The Battle of Khadur

Githya made his way back to his camp, being careful to avoid the patrols sent out by Mugruk. The corpulent old chieftain had now vowed that he would stop at nothing to finish off this upstart. While Githya rallied the men he had left, Mugruk mustered every Ironfoot orc of fighting age in his clan and armed them for battle.

Between Mugruk's lands and Githya's camp, lay the hills of Khadur. High in those hills there was a great hole in the earth like a bowl, made, it was said, when a star had fallen to earth centuries before. It was towards this crater that Githya led his forces.

The mercenary army made such a clamour as they moved, that Mugruk's scouts had no trouble tracking them. Mugruk's army was vastly bigger than Githya's but as a result, it moved slowly and Mugruk feared that Githya would try outmanoeuvre him. So when his scouts reported that Githya's men had made camp in the bottom of the crater, just a few hours march away, he could not have been more pleased. He broke camp that instant and marched his men to the lip of the crater.

Looking down on Githya, Mugruk laughed aloud and turn to his captains, “See what the fool has done? His tiny force sits at the bottom of a hole with no escape. We shall charge down there and slaughter every last orc.”

“Look how short his line is,” piped up one of Mugruk's captains. “This Githya is a fool. We shall easily outflank him. The battle is already won.”

Down in the crater, Githya had packed his warriors into a tight, short line it seemed. High above on the rim, Mugruk's army formed up according to all the rules of war; a long line designed to outflank a smaller foe. They charged.

What Mugruk did not see was that each of Githya's men had been equipped with a large heavy shield, big as a door. They stood tight, shoulder to shoulder, forming an impenetrable wall. Mugruk's orcs swept down the slope, breaking like a wave against cliffs as they hammered into the shieldwall and were stopped. Now, the flanks of Mugruk's longer line wheeled round to close the net. Githya's army was surrounded. Yet, the Ironfoot orcs did not find unprotected flanks to attack. They quickly realised the reason that Githya's line seemed so short. His orcs had in fact formed up in a square, each side of which was a solid wall of shields. Within the square now, young gruntlings armed with short spears, dropped to the ground and began stabbing under the shieldwall at the legs of the Ironfoots.

This was not the easy victory Mugruk had expected. His army now surrounded something more akin to a fortress. At least it seemed that Githya would not escape this time.

What Mugruk the Fat did not know was that Githya was not there. The noise and clamour of his force had done its job and lured the whole of Mugruk's army to attack these well defended warriors. Now was the time for Githya to strike. He had hidden half his force in the woods above the crater and, while The Ironfoots pushed against and cursed a wall of solid wooden shields, Githya's best warriors came running down the slope and smashed into their undefended backs, right at the point where Mugruk himself stood.

Mugruk the Fat found himself caught between two forces with most of his army busy fighting the sides and back of Githya's square and unable to come to his aid. The contest was swift and bloody. Mugruk quickly fell and his warriors fled. On all sides of the square, there was now panic as word of Mugruk's death spread. Many Ironfoots tried to turn and run and were cut down by the mercenaries. A confident victory had turned into a rout.

It's said that it was one of Mugruk's captains who presented Githya with his old chieftain's head. Half the Ironfoot survivors now swore allegiance to Githya. The rest fled into the hills and probably never stopped running. Soon all the northern clans were talking about Githya, the mercenary general who had destroyed an army five times the size of his own. Githya Redblade, they began to call him and it became a name regarded with a mixture of respect and fear.

So, Githya earned his fame amongst the northern clans. Great wealth soon followed, but he also made many enemies; not least of which was the Overlord of the Northern Clans himself.

[Akesha]

I've decided to put this project on hold for a while. Obviously there is a lot more to tell but I'm not sure how many people are actually interesting in hearing it. The real problem though, is where, and indeed whether, this story should be told. It is as much Akesha's own backstory as it is the story of this tribe.

Since none of this has yet been revealed IC and seeing as Akesha is no longer a member of the guild ... you see my dilemma?

I think some thinking time is needed. For now though I'll say goodbye and good luck. I may or may not come back to this forum in the future. Time will tell.

Cya round

Akesha

[Claws]

 

[Rargnasha]

I can say that I myself have been looking at this for updates from time to time - Greatly enjoy your writing as well as the story of the Red Blades.

[Vraagar]

Aww been keeping an eye on this story aswell from time to time at work, really enjoyed learning where the tribe hail from.