Orcs of the Red Blade

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December 05, 2023, 04:33:06 AM

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2023 Jul 22 21:17:06
Such shouty people in here, gosh.
2023 Jul 20 00:42:16
Remember to shout your lungs out every once in a while!!
2023 Jul 08 16:30:53
Shouting here to make sure everyone knows that I'm still here!
2022 Jan 24 22:27:52
Wow I can't believe I remembered my password!
2021 Dec 18 14:37:28
2021 Nov 10 11:24:52
Remember to check both ways before crossing the plains!
2021 May 22 13:10:40
I too am testing the shoutbox for non-nefarious reasons.
2021 May 22 12:55:49
This is me testing the shoutbox, because shouting is a great stress relief and it would be a shame if it doesn't work.
2021 Mar 25 02:38:20
2020 Nov 19 23:14:09
Ice cream for all
2020 Oct 09 08:49:55
Happy Anniversary!!! It's party timeeee!
2020 Sep 24 11:39:42
Oh god. The warlock found the shoutbox!
2020 Sep 23 15:42:21
THE SHOUTBOX. Omg. This was like proto-Discord.
2020 Aug 23 08:36:02
*Grabs a camera to record what happens*
2020 Aug 22 15:24:43
*prods shoutbox*
2020 Jun 16 09:34:12
2020 Jun 05 12:32:27
Swedish Pagans?
2020 Jun 01 08:45:09
You're invoking the wrong gods in this place!
2020 May 27 12:17:33
Shout at the devil!
2020 May 27 12:16:36
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Author Topic: Bravado  (Read 827 times)


  • Red Blade
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« on: August 14, 2019, 08:48:05 PM »
Two months. It had been two months since Nazmir. Since he rejoined the clan. Since, as he noticed time and time again, he had other orcs he cared for. Purpose.

Two months. And yet  - it - was still there. Quiet, most of the time. But he still heard it, felt its teeth scrape right behind his eyes. Clicking its mandibles when he lost his calm. Like in Feralas, chanting. Incessantly. Through the night, demanding.

They knew, of course. Not that they would pressure him. The orcs had seen their own share of corruption, mind-altering spellcraft and void trickery. Still, he put up a front. Tried to, at least. Being snide and cynical without reason. He also knew that the ones familiar with him saw through his bravado. While others just shook their head in confusion.

He had said several times that he would look into it, consult the sorcerer about what to do. He had plenty of opportunity to do just that, truth be told.
Just the previous night, Bloodmoon had joined them in the inn. He could've asked him, a moment of his time to consult this orc. Yet he just sat there, listening to Wildmark and Nakobu talking about codes of honour and peons. This was the reason he simply stood up and hid in the back room without another word - probably leaving Chuckles mildly confused.

Only when the orcs went for their tents and hammocks, did he stop pretending. He made his way down to the floor as quiet as he could, looking momentarily at the monk sleeping beneath his own cot. He was sure Rharok was aware, but kept pretending to be asleep. Looking at Beastgrin's hammock, he was painfully reminded of his bruised neck and almost sighed, as he was prone to do. He stopped himself and left the inn.

He took a walk through the settlement, some of the sentries eyeing him suspiciously as he passed by. He didn't pay them any attention and simply left through the gate. His feet eventually brought him to the spot he had "trained" at with Throatrender and Beastgrin. The snow had obscured any signs of the scuffle and was lying undisturbed on stone and earth.

That chanting began again, intermingled with laughter. He bit his lip in frustration, fully aware of what would be coming.

"Too bad, we should've had you snap her little neck. Just as a reminder."

Gul'Thauk Tagrok Valorwind