A Fall from Darkness

[tpickles]

It had been years, many years of marauding and blind worship to the One-Eyed God. He was lucky to be wise among his people, born with the reasoning of his half-blood. The One Eyed God favored him and granted Grunk divine strength which paired beautifully with Grunk's already frightful rage, a gift from his primitive… monstrous blood. On the field, he had twice the strength of those fighting beside him. But conquest wears on the body just as thoughtless actions wear on the mind.

Brothers No More

They sat beside a fire, in the cave. They had fought side by side for this cave and now they basked in the warm glow of victory seasons ago. They had just come from a hunt. He looked at his battleaxe, the blood was beginning to dry and get dark as it did after some time.

"They give you nothing… You know this bruhdda?" said his chief.

Grunk only nodded. He watched as the few remaining drops of blood moved slower down his axe as they would soon harden.

"Grunk, you have great strength. Dee one eye knows yur power. Dis is why he helps you bruhdda" The Chief still trying to get his attention. He knew Grunk's loyalty was fading.

"Dese tings, we dunna need to keep fightsin dem humins. Deys nice here. Not like dem uhda humins Grunk seen buhfore" Although he wasn't smart, he already knew his logic would be lost on the chief. But he cared and he cared for his chief to be on his side.

"You canna say that bruhdda. You were nah around when dese humins be killin us. Dey kill our bruhddas every day outside thur big city" The chief refering to the clans west of Peltarch.

"Deys not likin us doe boss. Dey kill us'n if dey hadder chance to"

"Aye, and we's slaughter em fer dee one eye. Bruhdda, deys weak. On the day dat dey understand dee true power of he who sees all, dey will join with us..." Grunk had heard this all before. He got up, picked up his battleaxe and his shield, and walked out.

Yelling out of the cave, "You is weak bruhdda, we will find you sum day and slaughter you like those other inbred monsters. The one eye sees you now and he knows you are no longer strong!"

But these words did not pierce Grunk, he had already given up on the one eyed god. He walked into the dark woods until he could walk no more and then lay his head down and was at peace.

[tpickles]

When Gods Play

It was early evening in Norwick and Grunk was meditating, while looking out upon the Rawlinswood, upon recent events in his life. It felt so long ago, his days with the Blood tribe, as if it was another life that wasn’t his. Perhaps it was just a nightmare that he had never lived at all. But he knew that was wishful thinking. It was his life no matter how much he wished it wasn’t. Images would drift in from that life, and Grunk shifted his thoughts away, to the peaceful way he had become. He fell into a trance.

He dropped back into the present as the Norwick gate creaked opened. It was an iron clad human, wandering into town. They took notice of each other, exchanged pleasantries and the man introduced himself as Devlin before he wandered toward town. Grunk rose and went to talk to him.

As Grunk approached, a farmer of Norwick ran up to them both in a greatly distressed state. He pleaded to the two as a basket was stolen from him by a group of goblins. Grunk and Devlin set out to find the basket.

Not far out of Rawlinswood, near a lake that goblins often congregated around, the party stumbled on the group of thieves. Before Grunk could charge, Devlin began speaking in a strange tongue. Grunk, now confused, looked to the goblins. They responded. Devlin knew how to speak to them. Strange words were exchanged. Grunk, unaware of what was happening, squeezed tighter and tighter on his greataxe until his knuckles were white. He was ready for the moment the goblins’ civility would dissolve. That moment came.

Devlin was closer so he was their first target. Seeing the way Devlin held his shield, Grunk figured he could handle himself. Grunk raised his battleaxe and charged the dart thrower in the back. His blood pumped wildly, his axe raised and fell hard on the dart thrower. Grunk made quick work of him. But already, the other goblin brutes were wearing Devlin down. Grunk yelled in an urging tone, “We go now?”, but it was too late.

As Devlin turned to hear the call, he took a blow that laid him down. Grunk let out a fierce roar that could be heard throughout the Rawlinswood. In his blind rage, he charged the brutes. But he could not defend against their blows. They flanked him and were too fast. Quickly he became bloody and beaten, and not long after, Grunk fell unconscious.

He came to, at first his vision was blurred. The goblins were yelling and attacking something else. And then he heard a familiar whine and smelled, what was to him, the scent of companionship. It was Stinkee. The boar must have heard Grunk’s roar and ran to his aid. But the boar was no match for his foes and was quickly wearing down under their rapid strikes. Grunk watched in horror as Stinkee was beaten down. He reached out, and in a faint whisper, meant as a yell, let out “No!” But his plea was not heard. Stinkee was dead.

The goblins looked around for the source of the noise, eyes settled on Grunk and they readied their weapons to finish what they had started. In that instant, light struck through the fog rolling off the lake unto Devlin’s corpse. His body lifted, eyes opened and his armor shined with divine grace. He moved towards the goblins, his form rigid, his strikes flawless. The goblins did not last long.

Devlin came over and tended to Grunk, who was ,at this point, weak but fully conscious. Grunk arose from his beaten state, but it was clear from his face that his spirit did not. He dragged himself to the body of his companion and fell to his knees weeping. This could not be the end of their story he thought. Had they only been fighting side by side, and not picked off one by one. Looking up, eyes full of tears, he again saw the fog splitting. A ray of light blasted down again to the boar's body. Grunk jumped back. Again a ray blasted down. A radiant glow emanated from the boar’s body. The stench was returned and Grunks eyes and nostrils widened. The boar blinked, opened it’s eyes and got up. Grunk realised, this was not the end to their story. It was merely another page. He fell onto the boar and embraced it warmly, which resulted in a ecstatic snort and wild tail wagging.

Little did Grunk notice, but more than just life was returned to the boar. A new fire was kindling in the beast. This and the gift of life, were thanks to Sune. Who, had not the deity been present that day, Devlin, Grunk and Stinkee would have suffered fates much more grim.

[tpickles]

A New Brother

As was his life now, Grunk wandered the Rawlinswood in service to Meilikki. It was a simple life: tend to the animals, make what he needed, and defend the peace from the unnatural. He was familiar with this life now, and despite how lonely it could be, was growing to love it.

On this particular morning, he was looking for something to eat. Grunk was large for his kind, and large meant he needed lots of food. He struggled with this fact and what it meant in his new life. Thankfully Meilikki would converse with him, and even more thankfully, she was accepting of his appetite and what that meant for the woodland creatures. This morning, Grunk was left hungry from the berries he tried to subsist on over the several days before. He discussed with the forest queen at length last night, and this morning, he would have a boar.

Grunk stepped quietly on the forest floor, a strange ability to possess for those with orc blood. He edged closer to a clearing, one he knew today’s prey frequented. He spotted his mark. The boar sniffed around a small collection of shrubs. Grunk readied a throwing axe, a weapon he’d familiarized himself with and was often able to fell a small creature with in one hit.

Before throwing, Grunk noticed a smell. It was so thick and so pungent, it stopped him in his tracks. He thought, what could this be? Although it stung his nostrils, it was not decaying flesh. It was unique. It was like the smell that he would develop and prompted Meilikki to add a trip to the stream in her requests. But this one was much stronger than anything he could produce. He looked around for a moment to make sure it was not forewarning of a predator moving in on him. Only a large, mangy beast could produce a scent such as this he thought. Nothing was there but as he set his eyes back on the clearing, the boar was staring directly at him. But something was off. The creature showed no signs of fear. It simply stared and chewed. Grunk stood silent, gaze fixed on the boar.

In an instance, the boar began to charge toward Grunk. There was no time to switch to a more capable weapon for this situation, so Grunk tightened his grip on the throwing axe and deepened his stance. But something was odd, the boar did not bare it’s tusks in a manner to gore Grunk. It hopped merrily, and with a carefree look on it’s face, drooled out of its gaping mouth as its tongue flopped around. Grunk had only ever observed something like this long ago, while raiding a human farm with his Orc brethren as a dog had mistaken them for its master’s hunting party returning with fresh meat. He shook the memory of what followed that incident off, steadied his breath and lowered his axe just as the creature reached him.

It circled him, sniffing at his knees. However, the sniffing was more like a snorting that resulted in expelling mucus on Grunk’s legs. The boar’s back end was bouncing up and down as it’s tail whipped from side to side. The greeting was sheer excitement to this creature and surprised Grunk. Then Grunk realised where the smell was coming from. It was coming from the boar. Between the jovial nature and the purely unappetizing smell, Grunk concluded that he would not eat this repulsive embodiment of joy. The union of him and the boar was no mistake and it was the companionship Grunk needed. He would call the boar Stinkee, and this moment was the beginning of a long story that they would share.

[tpickles]

A Fall from Darkness

His senses came to, breath surged into his body and he got up ready to fight or for his death. His makeshift spear had split in the fall, leaving no more than a small stake. It would have to do.

It was dark, and Grunk could only make out the clicking sounds of the bones and the putrid smells of the rotting flesh sacks inching their ways towards him. As his orcish eyes adjusted to the darkness of the forest floor, the sounds turned into pictures. First 5, then 8 and then more. It was an endless flow, an ocean of them with tides rising from the shadows. Horror surged over Grunk. Never had he faced this many on his own, and never had he wielded a stake in favor of a heavy, orcish-made battleaxe. The undead begin to move quicker, and, now, with weapons raised. They would charge any moment now. Grunk took his stance and worked up his rage. His anger is what got him there, and it was all he knew to save him. His breath quickened to the pant of a rabid beast, his muscles tensed, each massive sinew visible, and veins began to swell with primitive rage.

When the undead were but an arm's length away he lifted his stake and let out a blood curdling roar. At that very moment, light burst through from the trees behind Grunk. He quickly turned but the light was too great, he could not see into it. There was a thunderous crack. Grunk turned back to the undead, except, in their place were mere piles of seared rotting flesh, bones and ash. The light softened, making visible the lush greens and flowers of the forest floor. Grunk could now make out the shape of a unicorn, gracefully beginning to circle him. Grunk could feel its eyes pierce beyond his mail and his hide, into his soul.

“What brings you to my grove Grunk?”

His rage subsided, in it’s place, confusion. How had this horse known his name? How had it talked, without even moving its mouth?

“I’ve been watching you Grunk, stranger to your home. What was your search that brought you here? Were you looking for a new one?”

Grunk collapsed, confusion was now sadness. His home, his brothers. But he had to leave. They could live with all of the hatred, all of the rage. It too pulsed through his veins but he needed something different. He knew not what. He turned to the unicorn “Yes, Grunk want home”

The unicorn seemed pleased with this answer, “Grunk, I want for you to have a home. You may not know me, I am not something familiar to the orcs. I am Mielikki and I want to share my home with you.”

Grunk looked around, “Where Mielikki home?”

“Here, Grunk. I live in the forest. And it is not always this way. It is a peaceful place. But sometimes this peace is challenged. And, although you may condemn your strength and your past, it all can serve a valiant purpose, in defence of this place”

Grunk’s heart, empty moments ago, was now filled with purpose. What was inside him, what he felt to be evil, to be an evolutionary fear cultivated by his race against the outside world, could now be his strength. It could be one that he would share with his recent savior and with the beauty of this place.

Grunk had a home.

[tpickles]

A Fall from Light

He awoke, cold and disoriented. It was a common feeling to the half-orc. The rage that fueled his strikes could make him primitive. He would often blackout in his teenage years and forget large blocks of time, hours, days, sometimes whole weeks. Grunk got up, his muscles ached and his head was spinning. He remembered a hunt and thought that must of been it. He must have wandered after the feast and passed out. He was still in his armor which indicated he hadn't changed. Relieved, he began walking back to the cave … until he realized he did not recognize his surroundings. He must be deep in the Rawlinswood, if he was in the Rawlinswood. He began to walk. Hours passed until he recalled his interaction with his chief. He stood frozen, remembering every word, every detail ... the drying blood which flowed freely in the hunt but in his time of musing dried as his rage quelled. He was alone.

He stood in that spot for what seem like ages. He was raised in a tribe and lived most of his life amongst his brother half-orcs. His blood began to pump but it was not his rage. No, he felt no power or excitement from this flow, only fear. And the fear spread across him as quickly as did the power. He shuddered as he noticed the light was fading. He would have to act fast to avoid being taken by what wanders during the night. Although he had conquered many beasts before, he was always with his brothers and his badger. These assets were not with him now. All he had was his strength, his armor and his axe. He remembered back when he was separated from the his Blood Tribe brothers. He had survived before, and he would do so again.

THWACK
Before the night could fall
THWACK
He must fortify himself
THWACK
Find a large sturdy tree to support his weight
THWACK… eeeeyeerr CLUMP

He would manufacture fortifications from a small tree. Some pikes from its branches to line the perimeter and a long spear to jab anything that could climb after him. He quickly made the ends of some limbs sharp and staked them into the ground. It was a poor solution, but it would have to do. Night was coming, and he had to be up in that tree before then. At least the stars could provide him visibility if he could get higher in the canopy. He strapped a few larger branches to his back and ascended.

Hours had passed. Luckily he had slept long into the day, he thought. This night would be without sleep. Tomorrow, oh tomorrow would be much worse. He felt his stomach rumble. He realized he must have been out on the forest floor for at least two days by the sound of his chest growling. He began to doze off … until he heard, just barely, a rustle of leaves on the floor below.

Grunk peered down, unable to see anything. The starlight did not reach the forest floor. The rustling got louder and his fear deepened as he tried to make out the creature stalking him like prey.

THWACK
Something bashed into the tree and it shook
THWACK
He almost fell that time
… and then silence. Then more rustling. Grunk knew, this creature was not alone and whatever else down there clearly was no enemy to it.
THWACK, CLANG, THWACK
The tree shook uncontrollably. Grunk wrapped one arm around the trunk and grasped one of his spears with the other. He threw it down and heard a clinking of bones and a deathly gasp. It was undead. More rustling. Lots of undead. He counted his remaining spears… 2. This fight would be taken to the ground and he would have to on his own accord. This tree would not be able to stand through the night.

Then he had an idea. He could try and jump to another tree, there was one close enough. Although Grunk entertained the idea, a small voice, a voice of his awake self kept reminding him, "Grunk, you are no acrobat." But he chose not to listen. In the past, he knew this voice could be helpful in some situations, but it served little point in times of desperation.

He stood up slowly, both feet on a branch and one arm stabilizing him with another branch.

He looked at his feet and to the destination of his jump. Back and forth several times. This had to be perfect because these branches could barely hold him as is. His landing could easily snap the branch on the other tree.

He jumped...

CRACK
The branch snapped and without thinking, Grunk was grasping the trunk with his hands, just barely wrapped around this natural beast. He looked down, his heart pounding. There was a breach in the canopy and light shined at the base of the tree he was holding onto. It was a far fall… four rotting corpses passed the beam of light as he heard more rustling. Where is the One Eye now, Grunk thought. He had done so much for Gruumsh and this is how he would fall, alone.
CRACK
The bark at his finger tips snapped off the tree and he fell backwards. He saw the stars through the breach in the canopy as he fell. He expected some sign but nothing came through the breach to bring him back up.
THUMP
He hit the ground.