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Post by dazza555 on Jul 22, 2013 11:58:19 GMT -5
Twenty six years ago...
"Get lost, vermin!" The older boy spat at the small one. His group laughed together as they did so.
"But... Can't we be friends?" The little one asked, quizzically. He was too young to understand. Too young to grasp just how different and alien he was. He was only slightly smaller than the boys at least five years his senior.
He felt pain explode in his face as he was punched to the ground.
"Gah! A cut my knuckle on this freak's teeth!" A boy growled
"That's not very nice, freak." One leaned over him; "Are you gonna apologise? Or do we have to beat it out of you?"
"...why?" The little half-orc sobbed; "w-why would you do this?"
"I ain't ever seen a freak cry before!"
"wh-"
He didn't get a chance to finish. The gang proceeded to beat him merciless.
Children pick on other children, but not like this, they hated the freak half orc with a passion. So much so they would have beat him to death, he had only seen a few years of life so far... still a kid.
The rush of foot falls and yells of alarm caused the beating to cease. The little half orc looked up through swollen eyes to see his attackers fleeing into the distance. His vision faded before he could see what they were running from.
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Post by dazza555 on Jul 22, 2013 13:01:58 GMT -5
Later that eve.
The child half orc, sat at the table, gently spooning soup into his blooded mouth. Both eyes were severely swollen, bruises covered his entire body, mainly his face and his arms where he had tried to protect himself.
His mother sat beside him, dabbing his bruises with a cold flannel, he didn't wince as she did so. She was a tired looking woman. Like simultaneously loving and despising a child took so much energy.
"I told you not to go outside Nathaniel." She scorned, "I told you what would happen if you let them see you."
He stopped eating, "But..."
"I told you... Now the whole community knows you're here..."
He nodded slightly, chastised, he tried to eat some more. It had to be soup, it hurt to much to eat anything else.
"The farm hand that brought you back said he thought you were human when he saw the boys beating you."
The child half orc continued to eat; "I -am- human.".he simply said.
His mother looked at him, with that same pained expression she usually looks at him with...
"Regardless," she began; "he wanted you gone. Disappeared. Exiled. It was all I could do to convince him of your use. When I told him your age he looked flabber ghasted. I'm putting you to work for him."
The child half orc stopped eating, this time for good. He had lost his appetite. "But, I don't want to. None of the other boys have to."
"You do," she said; "because you're different.." She bit her lip. "but don't let others convince you that's a bad thing."
It was the most loving thing she had said to him in a while.
"Ma... Who's my Pa? All the other kids have Pa's... Wh-where's mine? How comes me and Remy don't look nothing alike?"
The mother sighed: "Your sister is... Has a different father. As for yours? He was... He..."
she looked away, "when you're old enough to understand, I'll tell you." She looked back at him, her expression had changed to stern. "now finish your meal, and go to bed, you've got a long day tomorrow."
"Can I sleep here tonight?"
The mother simply shook her head.
With a snarl, the child half orc flipped the table, something not genuinely possible for a human his age. Soup remains littered the kitchen as the table crashed over and he stormed out.
As he stomped outside, he was breathing hard, the anger burned inside of him. He couldn't understand his mothers attitude, how could he? How does one at that age comprehend those levels of love, hate and fear. He could feel the anger grow hotter, his heart hurt and tears of rage filled his swollen eyes.
He saw Remy playing a short distance away. Only a few years older, she played with her friends, she stopped when she saw him staring. She smiled, and waved.
...the anger wasn't there any more. It has extinguished. He waved back, melancholically, and slowly walked to the barn where he slept most nights, taking in as much of the vision as he could, before he locked himself away.
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Post by dazza555 on Jul 23, 2013 17:30:38 GMT -5
Later that night...
The barn was cold, the night was windy. Nathaniel, the little half orc, huddled up on a makeshift bed of hay. Nothing but his moth eaten clothes to keep him warm. He'd spent the eve crying his troubles away. He was still sad, but it seemed he was all out of tears.
He lay on his back, letting the smell of animal dung fill his nose. He brought a hand up to his mouth and felt the broken tooth, it's jagged edge a painful reminder of his assault.
A gentle tapping at the door caught his attention. At first he thought it was a bird, or a mouse. But the tapping continued.
Nathaniel rose from his hay pit, and crept over to the door, gently undoing the bolt. As gently as his meaty paws would allow. The door opened with a creak.
Remy stood on the other side. A pleasant smile on her face and something bundled in her arms. The little half orc didn't know what to think.
"Hi!" She began, chipper as ever, "Umm... Can I come in?"
Nathaniel was shocked, he opened the door wider and stepped aside to let her through. Closing it behind her as she entered but careful not to lock it. He didn't want her to feel trapped. His sister had visited him before... but not at this time of night. She would tell him stories of her and her friends, playing all sorts of games and getting into all kinds of mischief. It's what inspired him to attempt to make friends of his own... But wound him up with a broken tooth.
"Does ma know you're here?" He asked
She bit her lip and shook her head; "I ...heard you crying-"
"I wasn't crying."
She met his bruised eyes with an expression of pity.
"...after what those boys did to you, I would be."
She was smaller than him, and wore a simple knee-length dress knitted of linen. However, she was at least six years older than him, almost into her teens.
She eyed his wounds and tutted as she did so; "Boys can be so mean."
Nathaniel said nothing, he simply nodded slightly, running an idle hand on his jagged tooth.
"Well, ma told me you start work tomorrow. So I got you this." She unfolded the bundle, a set of clean and decent clothes lay inside. Overalls, trousers, a cotton shirt and some moccasins. The sheet used to keep it altogether was also a cotton blanket, to keep him warm on nights like this.
"Where did you get all this?" The little half orc asked, thankful but curious.
"Um..." She paused and looked around; "I pinched them from a washing line." She stage whispered, her expression dead serious.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
"I bought them, silly!" She laughed, "you know, with money... As for the blanket well... I knitted that... for you."
Nathaniel smiled, a crooked, jagged smile. He was overwhelmed with emotion, he didn't know what to say, how to express his gratitude.
She reached forward and hugged him. He flinched, uncertain what to make of it.
"Be strong,"she whispered as she let him go. "Big sis has got your back!" She grinned, and with that she turned to leave.
"Do you know who my pa is?" He blurted, desperate for answers.
Remy stopped at the door, with one hand on it and her back to him she responded;
"...Ma told me... He's an orc. That's all she said."
Nathaniel's features darkened; "so.... I'm half orc?"
Remy turned to him;
"Yes..." She spoke with a reassuring smile; "...but you're also half human.... And in some ways, that's more human than the pure bloods out there, whom stab each other over petty things. Don't ever forget that."
And with that, she left, skipping away into the night. Leaving the little half human, with a blanket, new clothes and hope that things will get better.
He slept better then he ever had that night.
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Post by dazza555 on Jul 26, 2013 10:22:46 GMT -5
Sixteen years ago...
Tilling the fields had been a hard battle, but Nathianiel the little half orc had grown into a full size half orc. Despite being only fourteen years in age, his height reached just over a man and a half, and he was almost just as wide. It was hard at first, but field work had made him strong.
He had earned the grudging respect of his peers one summer night, when the oxen had been struck ill with fever. Nathaniel pulled the plough along the fields himself, saving the community of a lean harvest. He nearly killed himself from the exhaustion, but since then, people had begun to address him as Nathan, rather than Freak, Halfer or Tusker.
The relationship with his mother hadn't gotten any better, it hadn't gotten any worse either. He still slept in the barn, and as long as he worked hard he was always fed and compensated for his effort with clothes or blankets. Remy, his big sister, a young woman now and working seamstress continued to look after him. Telling him stories of her days when she visited him. Even the boys that had bullied him had stopped. Either out of respect or fear, they grew to like him. For the first time he knew, Nathaniel the half orc, was content.
When Nathaniel had asked Jacoby, the old farmer, why people were nice to him now. The old farmer looked at him with a wizened old grin and said;
"Y'know how solidiers that fight alongside each other have that sense of commraderie..?"
The big half orc tilted his head in question.
"...well they do. It's the same for those that till the fields. You all know what you're going through. The beauty of War and Agriculture. It makes everyone equal.... but farming encourages life."
Jacoby looked thoughtful;
"When a solidier kills another solidier with a poison coated blade, who is to blame for the solidier's death..?
Nathaniel tilted his head again, uncertain what the old man was on about.
"Do you blame the weapon? Perhaps the poison? Maybe you blame the solidier himself. Or maybe you blame the officer that commanded him to do so... does that void any of the factors of responsiblity?"
The half orc asked; "So... who is to blame?"
The old man, looked at him and opened his mouth to answer but something behind Nathaniel caught his attention. He followed his gaze and turned around.
A ragged looking man came running into the hamlet, his face was bloodied and his clothes were torn. He cried for help, and fell to the ground, an arrow lodged in his back. Nathaniel recognised him as a member of the community, he had left earlier that day with Remy to collect firewood.
He ran foward, shoving his way past the gathering crowd to examine the fallen man. The arrow had a note attached to it. Nathaniel pulled the note off and read it;
We ave de girl bring
monies you get er back
Else she dies
It was signed; "Roshnak da bandit king"
Crudely written, it was the work of bandits... and possibly not human ones. The half orc crumpled up the paper and ran forth, barging past the crowd and charging out of the hamlet.
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Post by dazza555 on Jul 27, 2013 20:43:54 GMT -5
The woods were thick, the sound of twig and leaf breaking underfoot were evident as the big half orc charged through the environment. He didn't know what to expect, or what he would do. He hadn't thought that far ahead, though Remy used to tell him of places in the woods she would frequent often when it was her turn to collect fire wood.
The clearing was serene and beautiful, it was just like she had described it; A slice of nature untouched by civilisation. There was hardly a sound save for the chirping birds. Nathaniel panted heavily as he searched, looking for something, anything that might give him a clue as to what happened to his sister or where she might be.
On the ground, clear and out of place, a torn piece of fabric lay along with a cluster of sticks scattered nearby. The half orc stomped over and picked up the rag, handling it delicately.
"Well, well, well" A voice spoke from hiding; "Returning to the scene of the crime, eh?"
Nathaniel glanced around, searching for the voice's owner.
"Behind, you big oaf."
The half orc turned, and looked down, meeting eyes with a ranger of Elven dissent. He wored plain brown leathers, with knifes at his belt and a bow over his back.
"You made a -big- mistake, tusker. Coming out here alone. I've been tracking your group a long time." The ranger grinned sardonically, a hand resting on the hilt of his knife.
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow;
"You must be mistaken. I'm not a bandit. Look at me. I'm not even armed."
It's true, in his haste he forgot to grab anything that might make a decent weapon. A pitchfork can make a handy trident in a pinch. Apart from that, he wore simple workers clothes, overalls and tan boots.
The ranger narrowed his eyes;
"Ohhh no. I ain't falling for that again-"
He lunged without warning, baring a dagger palm-down in each hand. The half orc reached out, trying to grab the mistaken ranger to stop his attack without hurting him. His grip found purchase, and he enclosed a massive fist around the elf's head just before he got within stabbing distance. The ranger flailed wildy, driving a knife into the half orc's arm to stop his grip. Nathaniel panicked and squeezed, trying to subdue the elf.
The sound of a sickening crunch silenced the birds within the clearing. The elf ceased his raving and went limp, the blades falling from his hands as he hung loosely, his head still in the big half orc's grip.
Nathaniel stared blankly at the corpse he held, his emotions racing through him. He was desperately trying to convince himself it wasn't his fault, that he had no other choice... but he had just committed murder. Murder with his bare hands. How does one comprehend taking a life like this. He looked away and shut his eyes, slowly releasing his grip. He didn't want to see the mess he had made, it was bad enough he had to hear the corpse crumple to the ground with a lifeless thud.
***
"'Oly 'ells! The big guy jus' kilt the ranger with 'is bare 'ands!" One whispered to the other.
"Aye I saw it! I ain't blind!" He replied harshly.
"Les' go say 'allo, shall we?"
***
Nathaniel stood over the corpse for sometime, trying to contemplate his next course of action. He looked up when he heard foot falls ahead. Two figures emerged from the edge of the clearing, hooded and clad in black leather. Their eyes weren't visible under the shade, but they both sported unevenly-toothed grins. They both had crossbow's leveled at the half orc. They approached, holding their weapons casually, as if killing the half orc would be as easy as pulling the trigger.
One of them surveyed the bloodied corpse and let out a long whistle while the other kept his aim on Nathaniel.
"Well... tha' is one. Dead. Elf." He laughed; "Good job, you did us a favour, eh?"
The brigands looked at each other and grinned.
"So we'll do ya one. The King'll definately wanna' meetcha. Oh aye, I bet he will."
The half orc looked at them, he didn't make an effort to move. So one of them prodded him with his crossbow;
"It's rude t'keep 'im waiting, y'know." He threatened.
"Yeah!" Another chuckled; "'sides, we weren't askin'."
Nathaniel sighed, and then followed as they led him through the wood.
***
The stab wound suffered during the attack hurt, but it was minor. Nathaniel rubbed the cut, examining the severity. The blade didn't go deep, the ranger didn't commit to the stab, he was just trying to escape. They walked in silence throughout the wood for hours. He hadn't been this far from his community before, but he knew he was definately moving in the opposite direction.
As night began to fall, they came to a darkened cave. Just before one of the Brigand's stepped in, a bolt ricocheted off the cave wall, inches from his head.
"Oi! Who goes!?" A voice called from within the darkness.
"'Ells a bloody forgot about tha'." The Brigand muttered; "Don't shoot! It's Hanroy an' Feddik!"
There was a pause before the response came; "Wha'sa password!?"
"Long live the Bandit King!"
Another pause; "Right then, come in slow like, les you wanna bolt in the eye."
The Brigands sniffed before they shoved Nathaniel into the dark; "Pack in the tough man act, eh?" They called out to the voice as they came in. It was dark within, Nathaniel could see well enough though, he didn't understand how the humans could see where they were going. They passed a hunched figure perched on a stool, a crossbow visible against his cloak;
"Who's the freak?" he asked.
"Someone the king'll wanna meet." One of the Brigands said as they passed.
The cave opened up into a large area, a hearth burned in the centre and torches lined the walls. At the back of the room and up a few steps a crude throne sat. Various bandits loitered about, some of them orcbloods and some of them human. Some sneered at Nathaniel as he passed, others regarded him indifferently.
On the crude throne sat a massive orc, chewing on a meaty deer leg, his posture was a casual sort, with one leg propped up on the arm rest. Spiked and blooded armour donned his limbs, where a large sword of stamped iron rested against the throne. He watched the group enter, chewing loudly and licking his lips.
The Brigands stopped Nathaniel just in front of the hearth, directly in front of the throne.
"Kneel 'afore the king, idjit!" One of them hissed as they hit the half orc in the back of legs with the stock of their crossbow, forcing him to his knees.
The Bandit King grinned as he cast the deer leg aside. Still chewing bits of meat, he didn't rise to address the Nathaniel.
"Welcome home," He spoke, his voice low and resonant within the cave; "son."
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Post by dazza555 on Jul 29, 2013 16:26:40 GMT -5
"Why am I here?" Nathaniel asked from his kneeling position. The stock of a crossbow bashed against his head.
"Speak when spoken to-"
The brigand hissed but abruptly fell back, a visible axe-handle protruding from his forehead. The other brigand flinched visibly at the sudden death of his comrade.
The bandit king lowered his throwing arm as he rose from his throne. He towered over most orc bloods, it was clear where Nathaniel got his build from
"I do 'ope them humies didn't treat ya too rough."
He took a step forward and addressed the caves inhabitants, humans, orcs and bandits all.
"That ain't no way to talk t'one o' my own!" Gesturing wildly as he spoke: "Let that be a lesson!"
He turned his gaze back to Nathaniel, a toothy grin on his face; "Now, let's get a look at 'cha."
The captured half orc rose slowly. Eyes darting about the place, he came virtually eye to eye in height with the bandit king.
Roshnak laughed heartily and looked about at the gathered crowd, is arms held wide like a showman showing off a prized sow. He clapped an armoured gauntlet onto Nathaniel's shoulder;
"Oh yeah, you'll fit righ' in here!"
The half orc narrowed his gaze; "You expect me to join you? Why would you think I'd do that?"
The bandit king licked his lips;
"'cause, 'ere you'll find what you won't find anywhere else, even in yer false home... Acceptance."
He turned away to face his throne;.
"A king must unite 'is people, if he's to lead 'em t'victory. Humies, halfers and full bloods alike, we all gotta purpose. It takes a good king t'notice fings like that and put 'em to use!" The king turned back, clenching his fist to indicate his power.
Nathaniel grimaced at the thought, looking down briefly at his blood stained hands to which the king pointed out;
"yer a killer, son. None'll understand 'cept for us. Not even yer mother." He grinned; "she still frigid as ever, eh? Aye she warmed up to me right quick!"
He hacked out a laugh as the bandits roared in approval.
Nathaniel didn't know what to make of that, he knew the king was trying to antagonise him, but he felt nothing for the insult. His mother had hardly been there for him.
Roshnak winked at him;
"Aye, self control, eh? That's yer humie side comin' through. We'll fix 'at in no time."
Nathaniel finally spoke;
"I'm not going to join you. Give me back the girl. Give me back my sister, and let us leave."
He didn't feel scared. He didn't feel anything, he simply felt... Numb.
The crowd let out a long 'Ooooooo' as the Bandit King narrowed his eyes at Nathaniel;
"Ahright," he sucked his teeth; "Bring out tha' girl!" He spun and called out to no one in particular.
A barely recognisable Remy was dragged into a view by two orcs. Her clothes were torn to rags, her face was battered, some teeth were missing, some hair had been pulled out. She hobbled along, her hands clasped in irons. The orcs laughed as they shoved her into the clearing and she fell at Nathaniel's feet. He rushed to help her up;
"Remy! What did they do to you!?"
when she looked up at him, he was grief stricken with what he saw. Her perfect blue eyes had been sewn shut, she mouthed incoherently, her once perfect features forever changed.
"What did you do to her!?" The pained half orc cried out, hot tears beginning to blur his vision.
The bandit king turned and grinned:
"I think the better question is..." He began; "What didn't we do to her?"
The crowd roared with laughter, cheering their approval.
Nathaniel looked back at his sister; "you'll be alright. We'll get you taken care of-"
"She can't 'ear ye lad. She's deaf." Roshnak interrupted, stifling a laugh.
The half orc turned a murderous gaze to Roshnak, pain and fury in his eyes.
"This is yer fault son," the bandit king chastised; "we did this 'cause of you. Ye fink the humie community will accept yer for who ye 'are after what 'appened to this 'un?"
"I'll kill you!"
Nathaniel charged the bandit king, tackling him to the ground, he cut himself on the spiked armour but that didn't stop him, he wanted to inflict pain on Roshnak. He slammed a massive fist into the king's face three times before he was thrown off. They both rolled and rose to their feet. Nathaniel clenching bloodied knuckles and Roshnak wiping an arm on his bloodied maw.
"Alright," the king grinned; "nobody better intervene while I beat some sense into mah boy"
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Post by dazza555 on Jul 29, 2013 16:36:32 GMT -5
Roshnak roared as surged forward, throwing a fist into Nathaniel's gut and driving a spiked knee into his face as he doubled over. As the half orc lurched back, he felt a massive hand close around his neck and another slam into his gut.
He'd endured beatings like this on the farm when he was younger, and the size difference was virtually equivalent.
Nathaniel gripped the hand that choked him and drove his other palm into Roshnak's elbow, he grunted as the joint rattled. He ducked low out of the grip and slammed both fists into the bandit king's ribs, certain he heard one of them crack. Roshnak brought an elbow down, but Nathaniel tackled him to the ground again, loosing a series of strikes onto the bandit king's face. He rolled, forcing the half orc off balance and grabbing his legs as he went, before Nathaniel knew it, he had been thrown into the steps leading up to the throne. He rose steadily, the sharp pain in his back not stopping him. It was amazing the catatonic Remy had not been crushed in the scuffle.
The bandit king grunted: "You ain't bad fer a farm boy."
Despite his experience, Nathaniel could hit just as hard and take just as much of a beating.
"Nrgh, I'm done with you. Someone blade me!" He called out, extending his arm. Someone from the crowd threw him a large sword and he caught it deftly.
The half orc tutted as he turned and scrambled up to the throne, grabbing the sword that rested against it.
Roshnak didn't wait, he barreled up the steps, sword raised high over head. Nathaniel barely got his guard up in time, blocking and deflecting savage strikes as sparks flew, the sound of metal clashing against metal was deafening in the cave.
The battle ended anti-climatically when they both struck each other at the same time, Nathaniel got a shallow gash across the face and Roshnak was stabbed through the abdomen. The half orc drove his blade deeper, grimacing as he did so;
"Ach, yer bloody fool!" The bandit king cursed as he fell to his knees, spluttering blood as he did so; "Yer've doomed us all!" Nathaniel withdrew his blade and cleaved the bandit king's head in two for good measure.
As he stood, injured, out of breath and with blade in hand, Nathaniel, the battle scarred half orc scanned the crowd. The bandits were gob-smacked. Unable to acknowledge their ruthless leader had been slain at the hands of the farm boy.
The long silence was broken when one of them stepped forward, fist raised, he yelled: "Hail the king!"
Nathaniel regarded him quizzically, but soon, other brigands stepped forward, all yelling "hail the king." Before long, all the inhabitants were shouting at the top of their lungs. Nathaniel looked down at his deaf, blind sister. He knelt down, running his hand along her face. She suddenly stopped her babbling and looked up, her face staring straight through Nathaniel's. She uttered quiet words only he could hear and then she turned away. The half orc rose, a single tear ran down his cheek, he nodded solemnly.
His sword plunged straight through her chest, she didn't suffer, she died on impact, the faintest smile on her marred features.
The crowd fell silent as he withdrew his blade. The half orc turned to march up the steps and sit on his throne. His features dark, his face covered with blood and tears, he rested one hand on his leg, the other on the hilt of his blade as it sat, point down.
"The king's first order of business!" He bellowed, his voice as low and as resonant as his father's. He pointed to the two orcs that dragged his sister in;
"Execute those two."
The orcs fretted, at first they thought nothing would happen but that quickly changed when one of then caught a crossbow bolt in the eye and the other one was knifed in the back.
Nathaniel didn't grin at the circumstances; "Things are going to change around here!"
An orc brigand stepped forwards; "Aye king, wha's yer name?"
Nathaniel spat to the side before he answered; "You will call me, Roshnak."
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Post by dazza555 on Aug 1, 2013 8:01:05 GMT -5
For a few short months, the half orc formally known as Nathaniel ruled the bandits with an iron fist. He had up-rooted the group, moving them away from Damarra and turning them into nomads. They didn't always pillage and plunder their way across the countryside. Sometimes they took on jobs, acting as mercenries, guards, sellswords or adventurers. However, some of the more chaotic members of the group didn't much care for it, as it almost felt like honest work.
Still the Brigands had accepted the new Roshnak into their ranks without question. Those that did challenge him were cut down by his own blade. He wasn't unmerciful, he always asked them if they really wanted to go through with it. Ofcourse, being the brigands though were, they simply scoffed in his face and demanded he draw steel... then finding their sentences were cut short along with their skulls.
The new Roshnak was hard, but far less of a tyrant than the old one. It was rumored that may have been his human upbringing that made him softer and, some might argue, weaker... but none would dare question his resolve. They ate heartier, had more coin in their pockets and found a lot of them were no longer dying of spontaneous-throwing-axe-to-the-head.
The Old Bandit King's last words sometimes echoed in Roshnak's head;
"Yer bloody fool, yer've doomed us all!"
...What did he mean by that?
The New Bandit King would have an answer far sooner than he knew.
***
They camped out on an open plain, various people rushed this way and that, sorting supplies, checking inventory. Boistrous laughter could be heard also. The tents were arranged in a ring with a fire burning in the centre. Roshnak stood and stared into it, the stamped iron sword he killed the old king with strapped across his back and scraps of armour donned to his limbs. The bandits around told jokes, drank merrily and ate heartily. They had raided a particularly fat merchant van. As per Roshnak's orders, those who surrendered would be allowed to live. The first few guards to try and stop them were killed, the others surrendered along with the merchant himself. They could get away with this because they immediately uprooted after a big job like that. The incident occurred leagues away from where they were, the local authorities wouldn't be able to track them, let alone catch them.
The group had suffered losses and expanded in Roshnak's short time, a few new faces here and there, some of them human, some of them orcs and some of them even half-orcs. Though he knew them by name, he refused to personally know any of their histories, regarding all of them with cold disdain. Despite the amount of people, he was even more lonely than his time in the human community.
Night had fallen, and visibility beyond the circle of tents was poor. An unfamilliar sound began to fill the night air. One by one, members of the bandit group stopped what they were doing and peered out into the darkness as the sound became louder.
*clank clank clank clank*
It was distinct, the drilled, marching foot-falls of a column of armoured solidiers. Yet none were in sight. Roshnak narrowed his eyes as he regarded the feature-less dark beyond the tents. The brigands drew steel as they heard the tell-tale sound of the sentries loosing crossbow bolts. A struggle ensued and they cried out in anguish... then silence. Nothing. Even the ravens overhead at fallen quiet.
Roshnak tightened the grip on his sword. Before him, a hooded man, clad in plain black robes faded into a view. The air around him seemed to shimmer ever so slightly;
The hooded man observed the Bandit King through his shadowed hood, his expression unreadable;
"...You're not the bandit king." His voice was thin and raspy. The kind of voice that would make a sane individual shudder.
Roshnak snarled;
"He is dead, I've taken his place."
"Funny." The man in black began; "You look just like him... he didn't tell you of our deal, did he?"
Roshnak brandished his sword, an openly threatening stance to any with a brain to recognise it.
"Hmph, no matter." The man in black looked around; "Yessss... these'll do nicely."
He threw his arms in the air and yelled; "Legion hear me!"
The shimmering around him ceased and six hulking figures clad head to foot in plate armour faded into view. They had been stood at his side the entire time under the effects of an invisibilty spell. The armoured hulks towered over the regular men, only the orcs and half orcs reached their height. The armour was of the same design for every one, interlocking plates of steel covered every inch of their bodies, leaving no flesh exposed. They all carried a near-great sword in one hand and a veritable wall of steel for a shield.
"Take the half-orcs... kill the rest." The man in black commanded.
"Yes, Magister!" The Armoured Hulks responded in chorus, their voices were flat and without emotion. They fanned out, immediately cleaving the nearest bandits and forcing others to flee. All attempts at defence were futile, their armour was so thick that normal weapons simply wouldn't pierce it. The unstoppable force that they were, they took no casualties and wiped out any that couldn't outrun them. The only ones that survived the attack were the half orcs, and that was only because the Armoured Hulks would turn their blades sidewards before impact, spanking them across the head with the flat side of the sword.
Roshnak snarled and charged the man in black with a mind to cleave him down the middle;
"Danger, Magister!" One of the Armoured Hulk's called out and deflected Roshnak's attack with his sword. Before he could recover, the bandit king was shield-bashed to the ground and then pinned with a massive armoured grieve a near-greatsword pressed under his chin.
Roshnak could do nothing but watch in despair as the last of his group was cut down, and others of his kind were knocked out or pinned down.
"This is the price you pay," The Man in Black began; "when you fail to uphold your end of the deal. You didn't provide me with half-bloods, now I'm going to take them."
Roshnak began to wonder if this was why the Bandit King wanted him to join them.
"Who are you!?" He demanded.
The man in black turned his gaze to the half orc, his expression completely hidden by the shadows of his hood;
"You will learn to call me, Magister."
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Post by dazza555 on Aug 2, 2013 12:54:03 GMT -5
Excerpts from the the Magister's journal.
Entry six.
Still need to find the right subject for the procedure, based on rough tests so far; full blooded orcs have proven too bull-headed to stay obedient, they must re-undergo the procedure everyday to remain effective. Can't risk being caught away from the keep with a legion of orcs regaining awareness.
Humans, amusingly enough have the complete opposite effect, detrimentally so. They become docile and timid, making them effective labouring thralls, but terrible combatants. I have to order them which attack to use against their opponents and that is far too impractical. I need a decent fighting force soon, else I may not be able to keep the assassins at bay.
....I wonder.
***
Entry eleven
I've done it, I've found the best control group. The not so common half breed orc. The human side makes them far more controllable than their full blooded counter parts, yet their orc side allows them a degree of autonomy. With the right combat training, they'll make effective guards they won't need commanding on how to attack, they simply... Do.
If early tests are any indication, they can go as long as a week, maybe two, before they begin exhibiting signs of awareness. Perhaps long term exposure to the procedure will mean they'll need it less and less, eventually becoming non-reliant on it.
It is too soon to tell.
I'll need to right up a codex for them to follow
Oh this is a wondrous day, now I just need more half breeds.
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