Orcs of the Red Blade

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Messages - Saeroe

#1
The Campfire / They Come
January 29, 2012, 10:51:01 PM
That night, sitting up high within the branches of a tree, a single eye watched a caravan move along the road in the Grizzly Hills.

-Supplies for the Tribe-

The eye had watched this road a lot. Alliance caravans never normally came along these roads unless forced for they were more dangerous. But this one did. Four guards of human origin dressed in typical metalwork and a suitably armored up dwarf driving the caravan along. They carried torches to light their way, the journey having taken longer than the expected for an unforeseen problems. The rams hooves clittered and clattered on the stony track, one guard at the back, three up front.

-Explosives rigged. Timed with thunderstorm. Tree fell. Edges reshaped to make it look more natural. Road blockage. No-one knew-

"Steady as we go, lads!" the dwarven driver shouted out to the pair of rams, her voice echoing into the forest as they reached a narrowing of the road. "Dinnae wanna slip in't pitch black, now!"

"Keep your voice down, Shayle" one of the four guards hissed "there are tales about these parts of the woods. Folk go missing"

-With blood they come-

Shayle laughed "Ach, jist folk stories an' the like, yer pansy! These woods are plenty safe. Beside, we got Ainsley 'ere wit' us!" The dwarf turned around to call out to the guard at the back "ain't tha' right Ainsley!"

There was no answer from Ainsley.

"Bah, yer be nae good fun today!" Shayle continued jovially "Perhaps we should send Clem back there ter cheer yer up?!"

This received a round of laughter, yet the four up front soon stopped laughing as there was one laugh missing.

"Ainsley?" Shayle called out.

Still there was no answer. Shayle stopped the caravan.

The sound of steel being pulled out from three scabbards very slowly was all that could be heard, the forest was quiet. Too quiet and Shayle, whom was not normally prone to panic, felt her heart rise in her throat and became very aware of how agoraphobic she felt in the forest. Save for the ring of light from the flickering torches there was nothing but the dark. Clem and Honey slowly walked to the back of the caravan, Shayle stood on her seat to see behind and Ainsley wasn't there. She soon turned as the light from ahead, the one held by Fisher was dropped on the floor. The guard stood there, frozen and Shayle froze too as she noticed the torch was being put out by Fisher's own blood. Fisher fell forward and as if the fates had cursed them all the sound of howls started to fill the dark.

-They come-

Shayle grabbed her axe from beside her, glaring out into the dark, standing on the seat of the caravan, her own torch in her other hand. She heard running, shouts from Honey and Clem from behind then swift silence again. Something told her they were there. The wolf beasts. Or was she imagining them prowling on the edges of the dark? She concentrated on the dark and she realised she was not imagining things. Yellow teeth, mad eyes, their breathing, the smell of blood - she was surrounded, but the beasts stayed out of the torch light. Shayle stood defiantly

"Come out, yer walkin' cloaks, and come get -!!!"


________________________________________________________________________________________________________


The birds chirped in the morning, a gentle mist had covered the ground the only thing disturbing it was a pair of brown leather boots walking through.

Sidewinder frowned, or only one half of her face did for the other side was too scarred, as she looked at the caravan. The rams had been terrified and had run a long way from the road into the woods. They had been a pain to follow, but she found them. They were still living, but the caravan guards and the driver were gone. The rain would wash away the blood. The she-orc was careful to pick up the debris as she had followed the tracks, these she placed inside the caravan.

Quickly the she-orc got to work. It took hours to back the rams all the way back the way she had come, but she did not wish extra tracks from the wheels. As soon as they were back on the path, hours later, Sidewinder took to the drivers seat and hurried the caravan on, back to conquest hold. The rams could be eaten, the caravan could be taken apart and used and the supplies - which Sidewinder was sure was food and leathers - given out to the other Tribe members.

Sidewinder thought she had done her task well.
#2
Game Related / Re: What's your themesong
January 09, 2012, 02:04:01 AM
This looks fun  :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWBM2whL0bI

While not a true theme song, it is the song that inspired the creation of Saeroe.
#3
Odds & Ends / Re: Northrend: Call of the north
December 12, 2011, 04:29:56 PM
Sitting by the mouth of the cave, her older form shivering in the slight chill of the morning, Saeroe watches through the mist. Aside from the shiver she does not move. Here is a small insight into Saeroe's inner dialogue....

... have to devise a way of making my supplies float next time I sail with this Tribe.

Yes, Tribe suits them. They are interesting. Still clinging to their last shreds of order in an effort to create comfort. They have resources and it is best to stay. I offer them much and they do not take it. Seeds of doubt do nothing. They are whole. Boring. Still stay, want to see if their way gets them all killed. Mildly informative.

Stay. A curious term. The mage orc asked "you would watch my back". When said 'yes', was mocked by one of those other Blademaster students. No longer join them, pursuing an impossible goal is a waste of time and resources. To be self righteous is to assume perfection. To assume perfection is to never change. to never change is to fail to adapt. To fail to adapt is to die.

As is keeping the mad one alive:a waste of time and resource. He will die, like all life, it is inevitable. Do not understand prolonging the pain. It serves no purpose. He is not withholding information.

These orcs talk much of spirits. Elements. Fate. No. It does not sit well: my blade is guided by my hand, my hand is guided by myself, I am guided by my contract. I see no room for spirits. Survival is important too. Without it there is only the end: death.

Death. Do not wish that fate yet. Time is running out, so much to do, but cannot compete. Need new edge. Assimilate into tribe, open avenues. The mind is sacred, as is the body. Must change, must atone, must learn. Only way to continue living is to not die.

Not possible.

Must accept possible spiritual path to keep mind living: undeath not viable, alters the mind and rots the body.

So cold... getting too old...