3. The other side of Front

The other side of Front


  • Ya lerns . . . ya lerns not ta volunterr fer anyfing.

    "Roight ya buncha scummy greenies . . ." The Bugbear boss was yellin at us agin. I faded ta the back and made like a bush, small green and unimportant. Dammit.

    His partner laid his oversize fuzzy paw onna me and said "you be perfekt, I almost lost ya you made so small. Yer our volunteer fer the day." Now most times bein volunteered means you are on traps findin duty. Not many of thems comes back. Course if you tries to make a run for it theys best archers make sure of the same result. Ya wont win and they makes ya play.

    So they drags me off and hand me over ta their best guy at sneakin. Bloody bugbear guy is all sneak, black fur and sharp blades stickin out all over, each one of dem flame blacked so they make not a bit of a reflection. E sneers down at me like he was lookin at something stiuck to the bottom of his boot. Thats ok wif me. I don't like bein noticed, it gets ya killed. That kinda thinkin is for those idgit soldier boys who charge in like they was some great warrior. Idgits one an all.

    So he Gives me . . . gives me, I cant beleef it . . .a magic ting to help me see folkks that is invisible and anuvver thing that makes me go outa sight so fast it take me two minutes to find meself. Then he sends me off with these orders. "Lil fark, yous is NOT to hit, not to get found, just to see. Iffen I finks you is getting confuse by dese simple orders I will eat one o yer eyes to make sure you pay attention wif de udder one. I make myself clear?"

    I nods and barks (okay, I squeeks) "Yerssir" And makes to scurry off before he . . .

    Well, he does grab me and makes me head outa the gate of Smokey town and over tyo the hills. I hides inna bush and watchs the guards watchin the way I cam. Idgits and blind ones at that. Afffer a few hours it gits dark and anuvver guy comes and says my turn. So I goes back and dey accutually gives me meat! So laters I goes and takes annuver turn ands see dis bunch o da pinkies gettin ready. Dey is wigglin at each uvver and pullin on da armors right in FRONT o da hill, right where I am! So I fingers da magic fingy but I no uses it till I figers they is about to be comin at da gate and den I run wide wide wide round da hills an finds on o da boss buggies. He grins and starts barkjing order . . .no, serious like, be bloody well is barkin like a gnoll or somefin. and a few o his buddies met up and they all go out all black and edgy. They comes back a while later, most o them and they is all happy they dropped one o the pinkies right quick and the rest milled around all scardy like.. Dey give me more meat and makes me bossman o da Smokley town Scouts. Me a lil guy who like ta hide, bossman!

    Well I tell yas, ya gits extra time in the breedin pits and everfing. It not dat bad a job and I stick to what dey tells me. Don't go hittin, do go gittin seen. Nice easy rules.


  • _A bitter cold wind whistled off the mountain side, as an old dragon gazed over the landscape. In the distance he could see a black cloud rising, the smoke making its way towards the snowy mountain. This was a sure sign, Ormpur was no more. The war, had began.

    Tiredly he shook his head, letting out a breath, so frigid cold, even in the snowy mountains, it chilled the air, frost falling to the ground around him. How long had he lived on this mountain? How long had he called this land home? It had been centuries. For hundreds of years, he has sat upon his icy throne, a king to only himself, content in the life he had led. Though not from this land orignally, he had come here, to breathe, to think, to be.. alone. And alone, he had been.

    Then as if some force had opened a gateway to his home, people started coming. Further and further up the mountain they advanced. Closer and closer to his home they came. Them loud and rowdy, taunting the frost giants that had shared this mountain since he had arrived. It was Jarl that came to him, asking for his help. None of them had left the sanctuary of the mountains for hundreds of years. None of them had forced their influence upon the towns, or the puny people that lived below. But a new wind was blowing in on them, and it was time for change._


  • Darkness within darkness. The gateway to all understanding.

    The Sharran moved through the gates carrying the body of the Gypsy commander. The leader moved confidently past the archers and giant sentries in his black armor. They’d be foolish to attempt treachery and risk the wrath of the Lady when they were so close to achieving what they sought. He ordered his minions to take the body to the Friar’s as one of the more private buildings.

    Aelthas wasn’t in a good way. The spell had sucked most of the life from him out on the road, leaving close to a husk. The leader chanted briefly a few words of dark blessing that the Lady would restore enough health, so that the Selunite wouldn’t die. Not yet. Not until they were ready. Practiced hands steady his limbs as the Sharran slices at major tendons, making Aelthas’ arms and legs near uselessly. Another healing blessing and the prisoner starts to come round.

    The Sharran tells why he’s dragged this Selunite here to the captured town. He speaks of the mutilation and ultimate suffering that’ll be performed as revenge for an act so long in the past few would remember it. He speaks of inevitability and loss and Aelthas watches silently, his crippled limbs twitching as he struggles to move. Then the Sharran tells him why, and how, and removes his hood to show Aelthas his face before sending him to darkness, eyes bound.

    The guards take his body upstairs to a cell to await the continuance of the Sharran plan.


  • His head was aching.

    The recent attacks by the pink faces were stronger than anticipated. If not for getting banged on the head by that stupid dwarf's hammer and passing out, he'd be dead, like his brother. An arrow through his eye.

    He had made his way back to the new Town of Four Stone Walls and slept in the burned out shelter of some stupid pink-face's home. It rained during the night, and he briefly wondered why they had burned almost EVERY building… a roof right now would be nice.

    His wake up call came early this morning, disguised as a kick in the ribs.

    "GET UP YOU MAGGOT! THERE'S WORK TO BE DONE!"

    He quickly scrambled to his feet. No one disobeyed the bosses. A few tried, thinking that the orcs were no better than them. Their heads were still on display at the south gate as a "message." This boss was one of the angrier ones. "Long-arms" as he was called by the other bugbears and some of the greenskins.

    It was true, his arms were so long that they nearly dragged on the ground. Rumor had it that they were stretched as a punishment when he was young. Other people said it was from using that deadly longbow for so long. Either way, he was not the type you wanted to engage in any conversation.

    "MOVE YOUR HAIRY ARSE! GO HELP LOAD THE CARTS OR YOU'LL BE TONIGHT'S DINNER!"

    He shuffled out to where everyone was already loading up makeshift carts, some old carts stolen from the townspeople. Some of the carts were dripping with the fresh blood of the meat that they carried. The scent was almost too much. How long had it been since he had eaten? Since he had eaten fresh meat?

    Other carts had bags of grain, or crates with pink-face belongings in them. One cart had a few prisoners, tied and gagged in the back, looking like death themselves. They would be soon. Or at least they'd be stew...

    He started helping one of his tribe, Ruukhbug, who he'd known since they were hairless cubs. Ruukhbug was loading unmarked sacks onto one of the carts.

    "Where you been? Thought ya dead."

    "Me hit on da head, fell asleep in der..." he pointed to the crust of the building. "What all dis?"

    "What ya think it is? Tis loot from the pink-face. Shut yer hole and help."

    "This all good stuff...good loot... finally taking it back to bugbear-home!" he was wondering when the plundering would start. They'd been here for so long now and hardly had any fun with the spoils that they had gained from the lightning-fast invasion of Norwick. Some say that there were still pots cooking on stoves with disgusting pink-face food when they started burning the town.

    "IDIOT! This not OUR loot!" This is... tribute."

    He snarled... more tribute? These orcs were out of control. Who do they think THEY are? He lowered his voice so none of the bosses could hear, "Not right...should be ours, not orcs...."

    Ruukhbug sneered, then laughed, spraying him with saliva. He stepped close and spoke quietly. "Not orc-tribute... His tribute…"

    Ruukhbug pointed up and made a quick wing-flapping motion with his arms. The two went back to work, not speaking for a long while.

    ((The crazy part about this is that i had a dream that i was in norwick and 2 bugbears were talking, and had a similar conversation. When i start to dream about norwick and bugbears, it's time to see a psychologist!))