Erurk



  • Character name: Erurk Hurgenpox
    Player name: Wywernywin

    ”Next!” a loud voice shouted from within the hut. The line of orcish youth, barely six years old, advanced. Another young soul got sent in the hut. Within, the grey-haired priest of Gruumsh inspected the boy, nodded and shouted. “Warriors. Next!”

    The boy that entered the hut next was slightly taller than the rest of them but skinny and weak. He glanced at his feet nervously. “Tsch. This half-blood will be dead in a year” said the priest. “Lord of Maggots will have him.” The priest nodded to a hooded figure sitting in the corner. The figure rose up, his joints popping, and tugged on his white elf skin gloves before grasping the boy’s wrist firmly, pulling him out of the hut.

    The hooded figure pulled the child away from the main caves. They were entering the territory of Yurtrus, the boy knew. God of death and disease, Yurtrus was worshipped out of fear in the orcish society. Their priests relished on illness and indeed seemed mostly immune to the effects of plagues. Very few entering these parts of the caves became clergy, however. Most were either sacrificed or worse yet, experimented upon and turned into what the yurtrusians fondly called the Nurtured Ones – pathetic creatures that were little more than carriers of plague to be thrown in the vanguard.

    Submitting to his fate, the boy turned his gaze on the floor and followed obediently. They walked through a darker cave with a higher ceiling. It was the room in which dire bats were bread, he knew. A sudden screech halted the boy's ponderings, and he glanced up. A man riding on a giant bat, wearing black and red leather armor and sporting a shortsword on his belt landed near the boy and the yurtrusian.

    “Evening, Eglar.” The hooded man said to the bat rider. Eglar hopped down from his mount with surprising agility, grinning at the yurtrusian. “A new boy, eh bonesy?” The hooded man sneered at Eglar, responding sharply. “Given to me by Gruumsh, yes. What of it?” Eglar grinned at the man, tusks bared and hand resting on his sword. Then, in a blink of an eye, he flicked the shortsword towards the boy’s unprotected chest. The boy gasped and instinctually kneeled slightly while trying to put his forearm out on the way to deflect the sword. It worked, at least partially. The sword had not pierced his heart – though it was now jutting out of the boy’s forearm.

    Eglar grinned wider, then casually stated to the hooded man. “He’s got decent reflexes on him. I’ll be taking him.”

    “Wh-what?” stuttered the hooded orc “but the priest sai-“

    “It doesn’t matter what the priest said” interjected Eglar, his leather armor creaking slightly as he turned to look at the yurtrusian “I performed a favor you last week. Should I tell the chieftain it was YOU who’s responsible for the death of one of his precious tanarukk?”

    The yurtrusian paled visibly and shook with anger. He then turned sharply and stomped away.
    Eglar grinned again, turning to the boy. “What’s your name, kid?” he asked.

    “E-erurk” the lanky boy responded, looking up at the bat rider.

    “Well, Erurk. Welcome to the service of Shargaas.” Eglar said, reaching out to pull the shortsword out of Erurk’s forearm. Erurk glances down at his arm, bleeding profusely on the ground. Then darkness claimed him.

    ((possibly to be continued in tales by the fire, but this is enough for historical archives!))


  • Narfell DM

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