42 replies to this topic

[Talon Lord Othrim]

 

Zur'log looked around him, unarmed and out numbered 6 to 1. Each opponent had a bright blue hand print on their faces. They were upon him kicking punching. Each time one got in close he would bat aside it's attack with a flick of his huge arm. He saw two run either side of him, a chain strung out between them. They tangled his feet in the chain and pulled tripping him to the ground. Thinking him prone one foolish attacker ran in and with all it's might head butted him. It staggered back, blood running down it's forehead laughing, then realized it was it's own blood and promptly keeled over. Grabbing the chain from his feet Zur'log yanked on the chain pulling it from the grip of his opponents.

Standing he began to swing the chain round and round. Another tried to flank him from the left. He whipped the whirling metal across it's face sending blood and teeth spraying from it's mouth. One smaller and more agile of his adversaries caught the chain in swing but it's momentum coiled the chain about it's arm. Smiling Zur'log yanked the brain box off his feet and again began to swing the chain only this time a whirling screaming Orc was attached to the end of it. Like a ball and chain he used the extra weight to batter any who came near. In moments he stood alone the moans and groans of his greenskin opponents writhed around the floor.

"WWWAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" came the cheer of the crowd. "An' dat's why we gonn'a crush the hummies!" Gilda, the Chief of the Blue Face clan was a huge Orc. Not so much muscle as fat. Some believed he had an orge heritage but any heard to say that would promptly go missing. "Well den Zur'log you seen ma boys. Tonight we raidin a hummie settlement an I want you wiv em. Wot ya say?"

Spoiler

This is where your story begins. The rest is yours to tell.

[Prosperan Son]

"I say we giv 'em a WAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH! Wort remembin!" Zur'log let out a deep laugh, his voice wet with the blood that constantly dripped down his throat and lips.
"Just Don't ferget my pay! 25 teefz for trainin yer lot! And dats da cheap price!" He spit a gob of spit onto the floor, giving Gilda a vicious grin, his teeth, both the real ones and metal ones stained crimson.

[Talon Lord Othrim]

"Well den we as a bargin." Gilda rises too his feet. Three Orcs actin as his stool seem visably relieved. "I is goin for som'fin t' eat den once de overs is back we is movin out!"
The Clan roar in agreement and those of Zur'log's training buddies that can get to their feet do so. the others are carried off. A large ox horn of drink is thrust into his hand.
"Nice one." said his new companion. A small Orc about 13 summers old beamed up at him. "Loved 'ow you used Ny'lax as a weapon. Never would ave tort of dat."

[Prosperan Son]

Zur'log took the drink and downed half of it one gulp, the liquid dripping down his lips. He wiped his mouth with his hand. "You's still a young git! You woldn't have tort of much!"Zur'log responded as he walked towards his tent, planning on sharpening his choppas for the upcoming raid." Stick wit me ya git and you'll be learnin a lot of killin!"He promised before barking towards a group of goblins, the tinier greenskins, scurrying away.

[Talon Lord Othrim]

Eager to please the little shadow follows dutifully. "Ow come if'n your bleedin all de time you don't fall over dead?" is asks from somewhere behind him.

[Prosperan Son]

Eager to please the little shadow follows dutifully. "Ow come if'n your bleedin all de time you don't fall over dead?" is asks from somewhere behind him.

"Cause im to tough ta kill from simple bleedin."Zur'log turned around slowly to see who was stupid enough to ask the question."You'se not in a rush to see me dead now are ya?"He snarled, lower jaw, the one encrusted with sharpened iron and obsidian overlapping his upper jaw to give him the appearance of a vicious under bite

[Talon Lord Othrim]

The little git stared up at him. All his original teeth grinning. "Cors not!! Is just ma da say.... well he say... never mind." He grabs a passing snotling "Oi gets me and Zur'log ere a drink...move it!" The Snotling once released runs off with all haste.

[Prosperan Son]

"Yeaa dat's whut I dot you said." Zur'log growled before turning back towards his tent. The skulls chained to the armor on his waist rattling and clanking as they hit one another. He stepped inside the tent, looking for his weapons and armor.

[Talon Lord Othrim]

The rest of the afternoon was a buzz of activity for the nights raid. Cheers went up as a mixed group of Orcs and Goblins returned. The Little git, never far from your side chirped up. "My Da ses dey raided de iy elves on deir island." Gold, Weapons, Jeweled Armour and all manor of wealth was offered up to Gilda as tribute.

[Prosperan Son]

"Dun't matter who ya fight! As long as da other fighta givez ya scrap worth remembin!" Zur'log proclaimed with a throaty chuckle before entering his tent, tossing aside his blade to the floor, the choppa stained with rust and blood." It ain't gon be long ya git! Fore I head out! Go and see if dere be a boar worth ridin for me!" He ordered

[Talon Lord Othrim]

The Lil git smiles glad that he can be of some use to the mighty Black Orc and runs from your hut leaving you alone with your thoughts. At least for a second or two as a little "Ahem" captures your attention and a snotling stands there wrestling with a large ox horn of grog.

[Prosperan Son]

Zur'log watched the git run off before his attention was caught by the snotling at his side. Taking the horn from the diminutive Greenskin, he brushed him away. Zur'log took a long drink before tossing the horn aside. He looked out the entryway to his tent, towards the Boar Pens. It was time to leave.

[Talon Lord Othrim]

The beast was small, well built and bad tempered. Well two out of three was not bad. His little git acquaintance clung to the guide reins trying his best to keep it standing still. All around camp warriors were saddling up. Bashing their heads together and tying empty sacks to their harnesses, no doubt for loot.

[Prosperan Son]

Zur'log pulled his helmet over his face, the bull horned helm covering everything but his under jaw. He strapped his shield to his left arm, an old habit whenever he went off riding. Climbing aboard his boar, he tapped the heel of his boot into the boar's thigh, the pig stumbling off towards Gilda's tent. Zur'log had much to say.

[Talon Lord Othrim]

The raiding party was ready and Gilda was there to see them go. Horns blew and drums banged and the force was off. North-West towards the Dragon Back Mountains.

[Prosperan Son]

Zur'log strove on through the rag tag 'organized' line of Orc riders. Riding alongside the cheiftan, he look towards Gilda, the thirst for bloodshed seen behind the slit of his helmet. "Oi! Gilda! It be almost time fer me ta go! When we going to find somefing wort fighting! I'm sick of da damn iy elves!" Zur'log snarled, the need to face a worthy opponent a constant for him.

[Talon Lord Othrim]

Over the roar of the ride. "Oh don't you be worri'n 'bout dat," he laughs. "Dare gonna be a challange orl ryt."

[Prosperan Son]

"Why can't ye just answa da damn question!" Zur'log yelled gruffly, watching the column of Orcs move along the paths. "Can't I at leass get a 'int?" He asked inquisitively

[Talon Lord Othrim]

"My trackers 'ave picked up on some bandits dat sail about de Black Gulf pirate'n and such. We is gonna smash'em and take deir ships and do some pirate'n of us own. Once we get across de mountains it's gonna be clean sailin." He laughs at his own humor.

[Prosperan Son]

Zur'log grunted his disapproval, never liking the idea of traveling over water. He'd much rather prefer to keep his feet on the land, where he didn't have to worry so much about the things that lurk beneath the waters. However, he could not refuse a good fight.