Orcs of the Red Blade

Welcome to Orcs of the Red Blade. Please login.

November 22, 2024, 05:25:13 PM

Login with username, password and session length

Recent

Members
Stats
  • Total Posts: 33,083
  • Total Topics: 3,067
  • Online today: 257
  • Online ever: 449 (October 27, 2024, 12:55:06 PM)
Users Online
  • Users: 0
  • Guests: 221
  • Total: 221
221 Guests, 0 Users

One for the money

Started by Gridish, July 04, 2015, 11:44:40 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

Gridish

A gust of wind rages across the plains of Nagrand that have been covered in the darkness of the night. A flickering light of a manmade fire can be seen from a distance. The flickering light marks the spot of a small group of orcs that have set up camp for the night. Feint laughter and chatter can barely be heard over the gust of wind and the sound of Nagrand’s wildlife.  A few hours after the sun has set, the small camp quiets down and most of the shadows make their way to the tents. One orc stays put by the fire, the unlucky one taking the first watch.

About twenty meters from the camp, a silhouette rises from the tall grass of the plains, yet sticks close to the ground. He slowly raises his bow and draws an arrow from the quiver strapped to his upper leg. The silhouette waits for another gust of wind to pass before he fires the arrow from his bow. The arrow cuts through the sky and hits the orc that is camped out by the fire dead in the head in the blink of an eye. The silhouette sat by the campfire drops to the ground. ”That’s one.” the silhouette whispers to himself, satisfaction of the kill carrying in his voice. The silhouette draws another arrow and makes its way towards the camp.

The silhouette armed with the bow enters the camp, his weapon ready to be used by the glimpse of movement coming from one of the three tents for a swift, silent and clean kill. He makes his way to one of the three ridge tents and peels one of the entrance flaps slowly aside, his bow still held out in front of him and ready to strike. The orc that entered the tent was asleep. He steps further into the tent, slowly closing in on his sleeping prey. He leans over the sleeping orc and peers at his face. Not the target… he thinks to himself and pauses. The silhouette’s lips curve into a grin and he releases the bow’s string, letting the arrow impact the sleeping orc with a clean headshot. Too bad for him… the silhouette thinks to himself as his lips curve into a grin and he makes his way to the next tent.

After exiting the second tent, from which the orc inhabiting the tent met the same fate as first two orcs, the silhouette made his way to the remaining tent. Once again, the silhouette enters the tent slowly, his bow armed with an arrow ready to strike the unknowing foe, but yet again the orc in the tent is asleep. The silhouette makes his way to the sleeping orc slowly and leans over to check his face. ”Here you are." the silhouette whispers as another grin appears on his face. The sleeping orc wakes up slowly from the whisper. His eyes grow wide of terror as he finds an armed orc standing over him. ”Are you afraid?" the silhouette asks as he keeps the bow and arrow aimed at the terrified foe. ”HELP!” the orc yells ”Guards! Get out of bed and kill this fool!”. The silhouette stands still and continues to stare at the orc as he looks around, panicked and terrified. ”Have you finally noticed that you’re all alone? the silhouette whispers to the orc in a taunting voice ”Your guards are lucky. They had to die swift to be certain they wouldn’t wake you. However… I’m allowed to do with you as I please. Nobody that can hear you. Nobody that can save you. “ the silhouette continues to whisper and follows up with a maniacal laughter. The orc laying down tries to crawl away, but gets stopped by the wall of his tent. ”This is for bringing shame to the Dragonmaw and for following that sorry joke called Garrosh Hellscream.”

The silhouette exits the tent, his bow hanging from his back and the head of the tent’s occupant in his hand while his armour is covered in blood. Adrenaline runs through his body as he takes a deep breath. ”One for the money” he whispers to himself and tosses the head into the air before catching it again. He looks around, takes one more deep breath and leaves the camp, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

Gridish Rimeweaver