Orphan heard Grullik’s soft whisper, as the mustachioed half-orc called Delegado. Slipping easily past the gnolls and others, who stood nervously in a defensive box within the cavern, looking around at the shadows. Looking at everything except the two halves of the dead gnoll who had triggered the scything blade that had popped right out of the wall.
Orphan had dodged another such blade while trying to advance to the mouth of a tunnel that he’d hoped would carry echoes of any other creatures.
The passages underground were half-natural and half-carved, although one did not have to be a dwarf to see that the stonework was centuries old, if not millennia. Nonetheless the dust that was there was disturbed. This place had travelers if infrequent ones. Orphan had been trying to find evidence of such travelers when the scything blade had swung down.
The warforged had been faster than the gnoll. But it had come very close.
“No insects come for the blood,” hissed one of the orcs, gesturing to the bisected gnoll. “Evil this place is. Unnatural.”
“Quiet,” K’gah snapped. He said it in orc, as his warriors were not the ones making noise. The orcs grimaced at a gnoll telling them what to do, but they listened.
Orphan listened too. To Grullik and Delegado. Only he could hear them. The two were close by a wall that was clearly made of brick, if a faded, covered with dirt brick. “Right there,” Grullik was saying.
“Humanoid footprint,” grunted Delegado. “Bipedal, maybe 6 feet in height, too hard to tell the type. Doesn’t seem to be wearing footwear.”
“They don’t wear boots,” Grullik hissed. “I have taken Gatekeeper oaths, you know that, right? This is from an Xoriat being. See the way the heals indent forward, rather than backward? And they aren’t the squished gremlin things.”
“Xoriat? Here?” Delegado asked. “They don’t exactly get along with the fiends.”
Nebly suddenly slipped through the box of warriors to stand next to the two half-orc trackers. “There’s a secret door here,” the gnome said, excited. “But see the probing talon marks? The thing that you say bears aberration traits took a while trying to get in!” Nedly’s voice was pitched low, but louder than either half-orc.
And apparently he could hear almost as well as Orphan.
And the little jerk once again was impressing Delegado with an obscure bit of knowledge.
Delegado’s face went hard. No one sane wanted to deal with the aberrations. No one dealt with them very long and stayed sane.
The half-orc swung his head towards Orphan. “I need you, he whispered.
The warforged almost grinned openly.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Chapter 10 – Part 3
They lost three warriors over the next hundred or so miles. A sandhole emerged from nothing as an air pocket burst, seizing a screaming gnoll into an instant grave. They all stopped for an hour and dug, but could not find the body. Two orcs died when they were doing a flank sweep and woke up a sleeping demonic snake-thing. Its venom turned flesh black and dead instantly, and if Orphan hadn’t distracted it, they would not have been able to kill the thing. While its fangs scored his body twice, its poison meant nothing to him.
They were now trackers, warriors, two adepts, a monk, and a gnome.
Nebly proved himself useful by entertaining the troops and consulting on old stones with odd designs. With his odd bits of knowledge, Orphan’s headband, and Delegado’s tracking, they found a small ravine in the Wastes, barely big enough for three horses, but large enough to conceal a brass door so weathered it seemed like part of the landscape almost.
Delegado was pleased with Nebly, given how the gnome’s tips and bits of trivia helped find the place.
Orphan found himself feeling jealous.
They forced the door open by brute force, and with a sunrod for the monk, headed into the darkness.
They were now trackers, warriors, two adepts, a monk, and a gnome.
Nebly proved himself useful by entertaining the troops and consulting on old stones with odd designs. With his odd bits of knowledge, Orphan’s headband, and Delegado’s tracking, they found a small ravine in the Wastes, barely big enough for three horses, but large enough to conceal a brass door so weathered it seemed like part of the landscape almost.
Delegado was pleased with Nebly, given how the gnome’s tips and bits of trivia helped find the place.
Orphan found himself feeling jealous.
They forced the door open by brute force, and with a sunrod for the monk, headed into the darkness.
Chapter 10 – Part Two
When they’d first headed out, taking advantage of the power vacuum created by the hag’s demise, they’d encountered nothing. Only on the second day, as the group picked up the pace, had things gotten interesting. A series of encounters with unnatural flora had slowed them as they avoided acidic sand and scattered rock fragments sharp enough to carve anyone’s feet, horse, orc, gnoll, or warforged, to ribbons.
Delegado kept any of them from getting hurt, of course, his senses were too finely attuned to the outdoors to allow it. But the sight of it raised everyone’s nerves. Everyone except Orphan. He felt good watching it. The more the half-orc absorbed himself in work, the less he would think about his losses. His father. Ois.
Especially Ois.
They had encamped at the end of the second day, and Delegado and the gnoll captain, K’gah was his name, were poring over terrain maps with the mustachioed Grullik. The orcs and gnolls made tents quickly and unloaded prepared firewood and food just as quickly. In the Wastes, if you were not disciplined, you were dead.
There was little for the warforged to do, really. If he tried to set up the camp he’d just be in the way. And as night fell he became almost a liability. The orcs and gnolls could see in the dark, and they only had the light of the fire for warmth. This gave Orphan little to see by. And the noise they made overwhelmed any ability of his to listen for intruders.
Orphan found himself with Nebly as company, and it didn’t take more than a few seconds of small talk before the gnome began peppering the Orphan with questions. Orphan would later learn it was called in ‘interview.’ It felt like a swarm of hyperactive bees made out of words.
“So Iron Dancer, or do I call you Iron?” Nebly began. “I was wondering – ”
“The orcs call me Dancing Orphan, I call myself Iron Orphan,” the warforged interjected politely.
“Right, you call yourself, no one gave you that name,” the gnome said, half to himself, as he pulled out a quill and parchment. The little humanoid frowned and then shook the ink bottle which had sludgy contents due to the cold. “So how did you get your independence? How do you feel about having an orc name? Did the orcs name you?”
“I named myself.”
“And did your maker let you name yourself or did you run away?” the little man continued. The quill flickered, as it conjured up ink for itself. “Did you leave your armor plating behind? Can other warforged take their composite plating off?”
Something made Orphan wary. This was more than the usual gnome curiosity. Nebly was trying too hard.
“Maybe I got the name when I was forged in the Mror Holds,” Orphan said. It would have been a bad lie, but he wasn’t trying to lie. He deliberately made himself sound sarcastic.
Oddly, after being around Delegado for so long, sarcasm was easy to mimic.
“No, you’re from –” Nebly caught himself. “Ah, somewhere west of there I think.”
“Nebly, go away,” Orphan said.
“Oh but Orphan!” Nebly protested. “I’m just doing my job, chronicling –”
Quick as a snake, Orphan’s hand darted out and seized the pen, which he then snapped between heavy fingers.
Nebly stared at Orphan, but not with shock or anger.
With a smirk that belonged on a chess player who is convinced that while this gambit failed, the next one will not.
Delegado kept any of them from getting hurt, of course, his senses were too finely attuned to the outdoors to allow it. But the sight of it raised everyone’s nerves. Everyone except Orphan. He felt good watching it. The more the half-orc absorbed himself in work, the less he would think about his losses. His father. Ois.
Especially Ois.
They had encamped at the end of the second day, and Delegado and the gnoll captain, K’gah was his name, were poring over terrain maps with the mustachioed Grullik. The orcs and gnolls made tents quickly and unloaded prepared firewood and food just as quickly. In the Wastes, if you were not disciplined, you were dead.
There was little for the warforged to do, really. If he tried to set up the camp he’d just be in the way. And as night fell he became almost a liability. The orcs and gnolls could see in the dark, and they only had the light of the fire for warmth. This gave Orphan little to see by. And the noise they made overwhelmed any ability of his to listen for intruders.
Orphan found himself with Nebly as company, and it didn’t take more than a few seconds of small talk before the gnome began peppering the Orphan with questions. Orphan would later learn it was called in ‘interview.’ It felt like a swarm of hyperactive bees made out of words.
“So Iron Dancer, or do I call you Iron?” Nebly began. “I was wondering – ”
“The orcs call me Dancing Orphan, I call myself Iron Orphan,” the warforged interjected politely.
“Right, you call yourself, no one gave you that name,” the gnome said, half to himself, as he pulled out a quill and parchment. The little humanoid frowned and then shook the ink bottle which had sludgy contents due to the cold. “So how did you get your independence? How do you feel about having an orc name? Did the orcs name you?”
“I named myself.”
“And did your maker let you name yourself or did you run away?” the little man continued. The quill flickered, as it conjured up ink for itself. “Did you leave your armor plating behind? Can other warforged take their composite plating off?”
Something made Orphan wary. This was more than the usual gnome curiosity. Nebly was trying too hard.
“Maybe I got the name when I was forged in the Mror Holds,” Orphan said. It would have been a bad lie, but he wasn’t trying to lie. He deliberately made himself sound sarcastic.
Oddly, after being around Delegado for so long, sarcasm was easy to mimic.
“No, you’re from –” Nebly caught himself. “Ah, somewhere west of there I think.”
“Nebly, go away,” Orphan said.
“Oh but Orphan!” Nebly protested. “I’m just doing my job, chronicling –”
Quick as a snake, Orphan’s hand darted out and seized the pen, which he then snapped between heavy fingers.
Nebly stared at Orphan, but not with shock or anger.
With a smirk that belonged on a chess player who is convinced that while this gambit failed, the next one will not.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Chapter 10 - Part 1
A COLD MEMORY
Around midnight, shortly before or shortly after, either the 15th or the 16th of Zarantyr, 994 YK, buried under a cave system in the southern part of the Demon Wastes, some fifty miles northwest of Blood Crescent.
Orphan stayed crouched behind the rock outcropping, eyeing the gnoll captain as he clanked around the cavern, trying to find a way up to the monk.
The warforged quietly flexed his limbs, testing their mobility. The attempt at wrestling with the gnoll had been a mistake. A harshly spoken word in an unfamiliar language had caused long, thorny bits of metal to seize upwards out of the armor. Had Orphan been a flesh creature, his blood probably would not have stopped pooling. Similarly an attempt to disarm the gnoll captain had nto worked, as the creatures halberd locked into its armor's wristguards.
"K'gah!" Orphan called out. "You have your own mind!" The gnoll snarled something in return. "Think for yourself, that thing got into your head!"
A ripple of something flitted past Iron Orphan’s mind, coming from the other cavern, the one where Delagado’s unmoving form lay. It had the slippery, wrong feeling that the thing from Xoriat had tried to use on Orphan’s mind earlier.
Orphan had not fallen to the stunning blast, but Captain K'gah had gone from being an ally to an enemy within seconds, and the surprised warforged had barely avoided being carved in two.
The gnoll was a dangerous warrior, the most dangerous fighter that could be hired for gold in all of Droaam.
And full plate armor or not, he was beginning to climb the incline.
Around midnight, shortly before or shortly after, either the 15th or the 16th of Zarantyr, 994 YK, buried under a cave system in the southern part of the Demon Wastes, some fifty miles northwest of Blood Crescent.
Orphan stayed crouched behind the rock outcropping, eyeing the gnoll captain as he clanked around the cavern, trying to find a way up to the monk.
The warforged quietly flexed his limbs, testing their mobility. The attempt at wrestling with the gnoll had been a mistake. A harshly spoken word in an unfamiliar language had caused long, thorny bits of metal to seize upwards out of the armor. Had Orphan been a flesh creature, his blood probably would not have stopped pooling. Similarly an attempt to disarm the gnoll captain had nto worked, as the creatures halberd locked into its armor's wristguards.
"K'gah!" Orphan called out. "You have your own mind!" The gnoll snarled something in return. "Think for yourself, that thing got into your head!"
A ripple of something flitted past Iron Orphan’s mind, coming from the other cavern, the one where Delagado’s unmoving form lay. It had the slippery, wrong feeling that the thing from Xoriat had tried to use on Orphan’s mind earlier.
Orphan had not fallen to the stunning blast, but Captain K'gah had gone from being an ally to an enemy within seconds, and the surprised warforged had barely avoided being carved in two.
The gnoll was a dangerous warrior, the most dangerous fighter that could be hired for gold in all of Droaam.
And full plate armor or not, he was beginning to climb the incline.
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