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The Spear that Roars for Blood Part 1 |
Posted by: JasonZavoda
on Saturday, March 04, 2006 - 09:44 PM
|
 |
Needs Intro
Posted - Jul 02 2004 : 10:14:37 PM
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The Spear That Roars for Blood Part I-LVI
"I am a Stag: of Seven Tines,
I am a Flood: across a Plain,
I am a Wind: on a deep Lake,
I am a Tear: the Sun lets fall,
I am a Hawk: above the Cliff,
I am a Thorn: beneath the Nail,
I am a Wonder: among Flowers,
I am a Wizard: Who but I
Sets the cool head aflame with smoke?
I am a Spear: that Roars for Blood,
I am a Salmon: in a Pool,
I am a Lure: from Paradise,
I am a Hill: where Poets walk,
I am a Boar: Ruthless and Red,
I am a Breaker: threatening Doom,
I am a Tide: that drags to Death,
I am an Infant: Who but I
peeps from the unhewn Dolman Arch?
I am the Womb: of every Holt,
I am the Blaze: on every Hill,
I am the Queen: of every Hive,
I am the Shield: for every Head
I am the Tomb: of every Hope."
Robert Graves Celtic Bard’s riddle-poem
His breath came in great bellowing heaves. Arawn stopped and placed both hands upon his legs and let the air come and go from his lungs in a steady rhythm. Behind him came the pounding feet of several other runners. As they passed an old oak stump alongside of the path they stopped as well. He heard Nithad, the youngest of their patrol cough and gag, unused to the daily run.
"Arawn." Ogmios sputtered, breathing hard but steady. "Arawn, you run like a hare. You're making us look bad."
Arawn laughed. "Good." he said. "Maybe that will make you run faster. How is Nithad?"
"Ask him yourself." said Ogmios. "Hey Nithad! How are you doing?"
"...Do...ing...fine..." he gasped.
"At least he isn't sucking air like a fish out of water now." Airgedlamh declared.
"And this time he kept down his breakfast." Added Llawereint, Airgedlamh's young brother.
"You’re one to talk." said Ogmios. "Six months ago you were just as fish-faced as Nithad."
"How are you doing, old man?" Airgedlamh asked Daghdha, the oldest of the rangers and Ogmios' father.
"I'll give you 'old man'!" said Daghdha. " I don't run as fast, but I know how to pace myself. Who is it that taught you how to do as well, callow youth."
"Ha!" snorted Airgedlamh. "You taught us all, of course."
The six rangers took a slow walk to back their camp. They had set off from West Town only the day before following the course of the Olvewater back upstream to its source, the mountain lake nestled amid the northwest arm of the Barrier Peaks. From there they would start an extended patrol of the mountains bordering the Duchy, fair Geoff. It would be a month at least before they would come once again to settled lands and follow the Blue Oyt River back to their lowland homes.
Nithad was the youngest, green as his cloak, but bright and friendly. He was a quiet learner. Dagdha had to force him to ask questions about what he did not understand, but Nithad was quick and picked up much with only a single telling. He had black hair cut short and a scruffy beard of youth, most of which grew under his chin. He was small, but strong, muscular, but not stocky. Ogmios joked that Nithad must have halfling blood.
Daghdha was the oldest, a greybeard. He'd been a Geoff ranger when all the others had been mere babes. He was a tall man, pale-hhaired and grey-eyed, he wore a short beard and tied off a long braid of hair behind him in a tail. As he walked he rubbed a wide scar across his thigh, still red on a cold morning, a blue skinned giant had left its mark and nearly left him lame.
Ogmios, Daghdha's oldest son, was his fathers pride and joy. Tall and broad of shoulder, brown haired like his mother’s side, with startling bright blue eyes.
Airgedlamh and Llawereint, five years separated them, but little else. Airgedlamh was the older of the pair. Both were dark, of average height and black-haired like their cousin Nithad. They shaved their faces every day, a custom brought back by Airgedlamh from eastern realms where he'd adventured in his early days.
Last came Arawn, he lead when Daghdha didn't. Tall but not overmuch, brown of hair and eye. Slim as a sapling, but stronger than any but Ogmios, the two were of an age.
All six dressed in browns and greens, woodsman’s garb. Each had sword and bow, and one small pack. They lived from off the land and never carried much. Over all this they wore a hooded concealing cloak of dark leaf-green.
They took only a short while to conceal the remains of their small hidden camp and then silently they faded one by one into the surrounding woods.
***
"Why don't we just take the road?" asked Nithad. He jumped from a boulder as he taled and landed hard on his feet, nearly twisting an ankle.
"Pay attention curse you." Ogmios shouted as quietly as he could. "All we need is to start a patrol and have to turn back the first day carrying you with a broken ankle."
Arawn came back from scouting ahead and called to the pair. "What's the hold up."
"We're coming, we're coming." Ogmios said "The leprechaun here nearly broke an ankle jumping off this rock."
"Hey, what do you mean leprechaun?" Nithad asked with the premonition that it was nothing he would like.
"Because you're just as green." answered Ogmios.
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 04 2004 : 2:01:09 PM
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Part II
They made good time through the woods though the road would have been quicker. How do you train a ranger? Not be walking along a road, but by running through the pathless woods.
"We are leaving a trail a goblin pup could follow." Arawn told Daghdha.
"Nithad." Daghdha said. "Well he's here to learn, and we to teach."
"Oh, Ogmios will have him knocked into shape by the end of this patrol, I do not doubt." Arawn said. "But I do miss Gwern."
"Wounds of the heart are a deeper cut then of the flesh." Daghdha said and without a thought rubbed at his own mere visible scar. "In any case we would have needed to take a leprechaun with us. They have to be taught and the best place to learn is on patrol."
"No need to tell me. I remember my own first stumbling steps through these hills and mountains." smiled Arawn.
From up ahead Airgedlamh, who had taken the lead, came back drifting through the wood half seen like a green-brown ghost.
He gestured for silence and went to Daghdha then whispered out his report.
"Orcs," he said with vehemence, he hated the beasts, "a large band, and goblin archers. I counted several score."
"Heading our way?" asked Arawn.
"Not directly." Airgedlamh explained. "They are avoiding the road, as are we, but are heading further north-east. If we stay here they will pass us by."
"Perhaps," and Daghdha smiled, "but we will not be staying here. They will pay a toll to cross our path, in blood. How many orcs were in this band?"
"Two score at least, all dressed for war and carrying heavy packs." answered Airgedlamh.
"Enough to make us very cautious indeed, but not enough to make me want to split our number to carry back word to West Town." Daghdha said.
"What of Pelor's Keep?" Arawn inquired.
"I will have words for them and Penard'un. Her own patrols should have intercepted this little band." said Daghdha angrily.
"Such a small warparty may have slipped past unnoticed." Arawn suggested.
As they talked the other rangers joined them. Llawereint stood beside his brother while Ogmios and Nithad came last.
"What's going on?" Asked Nithad.
"Shh.." Airgedlamh hushed him and Ogmios slapped his head.
"Ouch!" Nithad cried.
"Orcs ahead." Daghdha told the latecomers. "forty or so and sixty or more of their rat-faced goblin-kin."
"Good!" said Ogmios. "This one," he nodded to Nithad, "needs to blood his sword and bow."
"Six against a hundred!" Nithad was aghast.
"Six rangers to plague their path." said Llawereint with pride.
"Do not be scared," said Airgedlamh "We will keep you safe." he laughed.
"Hey, do not spoil his good sense." said Ogmios. "I'd rather have a cautious recruit over a dead one."
"Yes, they are many, Nithad, but strung out across these woods." Arawn told him. "We will not face them as a soldier would, two armies spread across an open field. No, instead we will cut their numbers down, first by stealth, then more openly if the chance arises."
"If we cannot kill them all, we will set them running back to their mountain home." said Daghdha. "But let’s try to kill them all."
***
The orcs had spread out keeping watch on their less than enthusiastic goblin conscripts. A few of these green little rats would always try to turn and run for their warrens rather than fight, and their numbers would always thin when crossing through woodland if a careful eye was not kept over them.
They cut a swath of trampled brush, broken branches and hacked boles that a blind man could follow. They yipped and yowled and cursed, making a noise that could be heard far off.
"This is careless even for orcs and goblins." Daghdha said.
"They know better, but these do not seem to care." Arawn agreed.
"How did they pass Pelor's Keep?" Daghdha wondered aloud. "Penard'un would never have missed such a crowd."
"I do not like it." Arawn said. "Do they know we are about? Are they trying to draw us off?"
"I will not say impossible," Daghdha reflected, "but I do not think it so. Strange things have happened of late, much activity, then too much quiet in the hills."
Ogmios came with Nithad close behind. He'd taken the untried ranger ahead to see their foe.
"What is the word?" asked Arawn.
"Many stragglers," Ogmios reported. "They are all in ones and twos across the forest, like a cupped hand with its back to us. They scoop up the larger band of goblins and funnel them forward."
"To where I wonder?" Daghdha mused.
"I have a thought." said Arawn. " I think they mean to come around the hills and up the mountain slope above Draupnir's silver mine."
"Why?" asked Ogmios, "And how would they climb the slope? Draupnir works the southern face where the valley stream has eaten into the mountain’s feet, but the other sides are sheer, the north and west rising to meet the Barrier Peaks."
"I cannot say, perhaps they have found a path." said Arawn. "But what else is there? They have come from the north or west, where do they go armed for war? West Town is due east from here and this small band would be swallowed by the Dim Forest."
"We waste time." Daghdha stepped in and settled things. "Wherever they plan to go they will not arrive. The orcs we will kill first, then scatter their goblin-kin. Two bows, two arrows each. Yes I know its a waste on such as these, but I want clean kills. Allow no wounded to escape or fall behind our own advance."
"Retrieve what shafts you can from the fallen." added Arawn. "We have but thirty each, that’s only fifteen for every two of us if we are to put four arrows into every target."
Nithad counted on his hand. "Enough for all the orcs." he said.
"If every flight is true." Ogmios shook Nithad by the shoulder. "Do not count on it." he said in a commanding voice. "A stray breeze, a sneeze, or a slight movement can make even the most skilled bowmen’s arrow stray, strike an arm and not a heart or miss an easy shot by a mile."
"No guarantees in battle." Airgedlamh said.
"Enough." said Daghdha. "Let us be off and after them. we split in twos, Ogmios, Nithad on the right, Airgedlamh, you and your brother on the left, Arawn with me. If they turn on us, draw back, return to here." he stamped his foot upon a fallen tree, it thudded hollow, an empty log. "All of you." he emphasized "Then we can pursue again."
"Or keep on running." said Arawn.
"Yes, we will not fight a hundred to six, no shame in turning tail." said Ogmios, he spoke to all but looked at his trainee. "This fight will be on our own terms or they can follow us to Pelor's Keep or down to West Town and let the garrison earn their pay for once."
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 05 2004 : 7:38:41 PM
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Part III
The animals of the forest ran from the orcs’ advance like a small river of fur and flesh dashing for safety.
Behind them came the scurrying feet of goblins. Each carried a short bow of blackened wood etched with intricate carvings. Many of the bows much older than those who carried them, passed down among the pack from generation to generation. These goblins carried little in the way of food, they ate what they found including their own. A long march might see a hated foe or a wounded comrade served up side by side as fare. On their backs were double quivers stuffed with black-fletched arrows. Most used arrowheads of iron, though some used basalt, favored by the southern goblin packs who lived among the Hellfurnace Mountains, a very few used bone, the poorest or the weakest who could not keep their packmates from stealing the better arrowheads. They wore ragged garments, clothes cut from the bodies of human-kind and rough tailored to their size or skins of any fallen prey, not always of the four footed type. On their feet they often wore no shoes or had a bit of leather wrapped tight. Their feet were tough, calloused and very sure.
The orcs followed close behind the goblin packs. They hooted and poked at them with long staves cut from sapling trees, directed them along the path and kept them from wandering off, or running away. Each wore a massive sack of hide upon their backs. These orcs, like dwarves, could carry a massive weight and march or jog along without showing signs of strain. They wore swords, or stuck small axes in their belts, knives a plenty as well. Some carried spears instead of staves and jabbed their goblin fodder who squealed in pain and left a coat of greenish blood on edge or tip, a coat of festering disease as an added bonus to their spears deadly design. Most of these wore armor of a sort, padded shirts, or leather vests, bits of chain scavenged from a battlefield, a dented greave or metal gauntlet, some token of a fallen knight or richly armored man-at-arms. A small shield was slung upon each back. They bore the same design, a broken sword in black showing a bite taken from its edge on a field of red. These orcs were of the Swordbiter Clan come down from the northern hills. They stomped along on booted feet, thick leather soles studded with iron nails that sparked across the stones.
A burly pair of orcs straggled behind the rest. They kept an eye ahead and glanced from side to side. Their job, to spot some little goblin-rat who'd slipped the net and sought to hide unnoticed till the warparty had moved past. They were vigilant and alert, but did not look behind and never saw the arrows whose flight ended in their deaths. Their heavy packs and shields protected them from behind so Arawn had to come abreast but held slightly back and sent first one and then another shaft into the orc’s unprotected side. It gave a gulp of pain but did not scream and then collapsed. Its partner did the same, two arrows sticking from it, one in its side the other through its neck.
"Two down, thirty-eight to go." said Arawn. He knelt and pushed his arrow through and cleaned the blood-sodden fletching on the orc’s hide pants as best he could.
"I hope the others are following my instructions," Daghdha said, "since we are not. There should have been four arrows in each one."
"We adapt, or would you rather be in the Watch wearing a suit of steel?" Arawn asked playfully.
"I worry about our leprechaun, his first patrol has started with a bang." Daghdha frowned.
"Ogmios will keep him out of harm." said Arawn. "As much as possible. Nithad's been trained, he is a ranger’s son as well and a woodsman from his youth."
"I will worry still, but since nothing can be done, well..." Daghdha shook his head.
"Let’s thin them down some more." Arawn stood and waited for his leader to decide to pause or move ahead.
"Right," Daghdha started off at a quick run, "let’s go bag our share."
***
"There's one!" Nithad said in a excited whisper.
"Quiet." Ogmios hushed him. "I see, I see."
A lone orc, spear armed and without care, tromped along the wooded hill. Gracelessly, but with a sturdy brutish lope, he walked by them and jabbed his spear in malicious joy at every passing tree.
"We need a better shot at him than that pack of his. Follow me, we'll get ahead and take him from the front." Ogmios said. "But be careful. For both our sakes watch where you tread, don't trip and don't make any noise."
"I'll do my best." Nithad glumly said.
Ogmios took the lead. First they swung out wide then curved back in and lay in wait.
"I can hear him." said Nithad.
"Shh.. don't let him hear you." Ogmios signaled Nithad to stay put. "I shoot first, then you shoot, understand?"
"Yes." Nithad let his displeasure voice itself in a single word.
Without a sound Ogmios disappeared into the woods and underbrush. Nithad waited, a slight chill of nerves made his hand give a shake, but he wiped his sweaty palms and took deep breaths to find the calm as he'd been taught.
The orc pushed through a green budding shrub, he tore it down and split its limbs, and as he did a pair of small green shapes sprang from beneath.
"Hah!" the orc cried. "Trying to run you little rats!" One froze the other kept on running. "Stop you! Stop!" the orc shouted and flung his spear. It transfixed the goblin back to front and pinned him to a tree. From further to the left a call rang out.
"Gnawer!" the voice honked, congested and with a lisp like someone with a thick summer cold. "Gnawer, what have you found?"
"A pair of little mice running for home, Splitlip." The orc pulled its spear free and used its feet to kick the goblin’s corpse from off the shaft.
A rustle from the left and then another orc with a wooden staff came into view. Nithad blanched at the rough pig-like face, its nose a scabbed and bloody mess, flat against its cheeks.
"Should have run." it told the kneeling goblin and then smacked it hard with its wooden staff. The goblin dropped and lay face down and still.
"Shamming, I bet you." said the one called Gnawer, and he stabbed it with his spear high in its skinny leg. The little goblin squealed and tried to crawl, but Gnawer leaned and put the spear point clean through to the ground.
"Please, please, please...." it cried over and again.
Nithad's shakes were no more but his calm had left as well. Angry now, he loosed his shaft and the sadistic orc dropped its spear, Nithad's arrow in its arm. The other orc jumped back not knowing from where the attack had come, but an arrow took him in the eye and he fell. A second shaft struck him in the neck, wasted, the orc was dead before he hit the oerth.
Gnawer, with his wounded arm, did not think to stay or shout, he turned and ran. Nithad shot again, his arrow thudded against the orc’s pack and stuck but drew no blood. Ogmios fired at the fleeing orc, his arrow pierced its other arm the second skimmed across its head and drew a line of blood but did no more than scratch the flesh. Gnawer’s head snapped to the side and with two useless arms he crashed into the brush.
"After him!" Ogmios yelled and from his hiding place burst out.
"Sorry!" Nithad called and ran.
The hills were rough and along this way only deers made paths that man or orc could cross with ease. These orcs beat the forest down and made their own way, but such a brutal course took time. No quick or easy passage through these woods.
Ogmios sprinted through the brush and leaped over roots sticking from the ground, the wounded orc was just ahead. He'd left his bow behind and as he ran he drew a long and pointed knife. The orc glanced back and started with alarm to see the ranger close, and with that scare he did not watch his way, headfirst he crashed into a tree. It was quick and bloody work, a single slash and the orc was dead, then Ogmios turned with his knife upraised as a crashing body hurtled by.
"Nithad!" Ogmios hissed. "What a mess, what were you thinking?"
Nithad stared down at the gory corpse and without reply went behind a nearby tree and retched.
"Better now?" Ogmios asked him shortly.
"I've never killed anyone before." Nithad said and looked Ogmios in the eyes.
"You haven't killed anyone at all." Ogmios grimly said. "I did."
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 07 2004 : 8:48:20 PM
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part IV
Irontooth felt uneasy and he could not for-the-life-of-him understand why. The goblins were moving along at a good clip and he’d only had to wound a few, so far, to keep them all in line. He'd put the most vicious of his warriors around the outer edge of the march. They'd probably kill any goblins they came across, but so much the better. It would put the fear of the Biter into the rest. But something was wrong, he was too old and experienced to start mistrusting his instincts now.
"Fang!" He called to a nearby orc. "Sound the horn, halt the advance."
Fang did not reply, first because he had no tongue and second because he knew better than to question any of his chief’s commands. He'd done that once before. He put a curved and hollow horn to his lips and sounded three short blasts. There were answering cries from around the woods, and a cheer from the goblin troops marching ahead.
***
Airgedlamh and Llawereint were having an easy time. They'd killed five of the orcs already and were stalking number six.
This one seemed like it would be an easier kill than any other. It was a very big orc, maybe the largest that either ranger had ever seen before. Its pack and shield looked like a child’s toys across its broad and unarmored back. A chain vest was dangling from a badly closed flap atop the bag and it had stripped off its padded vest and slung it over a bare shoulder. It was hairy as well, its back a deep black carpet over greenish skin. No wonder that it sweltered under metal chain and thick padded vest.
"Place your arrows low, those ribs can deflect the shot." Airgedlamh told his little brother.
"Tell me something that I do not know already." Llawereint shook his head and circled to the right. Airgedlamh could not see his brother hidden in the brush but counted five and then released his shaft, his brother fired an eyeblink after.
The greyfeathers on the arrows end were all that could be seen amid the thick black curly hair. The great orc stood stiff, suddenly upright, rising on its toes and then twisted round, its hand searching for the source of pain. Llawereint's arrow merely skimmed across its side parting the hairy coat then ripping a path through leaves and shrubs, the sound like tearing cloth, then disappeared. Airgedlamh shot again and struck the orc’s reaching arm making it draw breath and yowl but as it did a horn was blowing, its cry of pain drowned out.
Llawereint pinned an arrow to its chest and then another from Airgedlamh and as it fell two arrows sprouted, one shattered on its shield another struck its head and lodged in its massive brow.
"Those last were overkill." Llawereint said and worked the arrow from the dead orc’s skull.
"A waste, true." Airgedlamh agreed.
"What was that horn?" his brother asked.
"If I guess right, they've called a halt. Three short blasts, that’s what I've heard before from orcs, but whose to say, each tribe is different and these..." Airgedlamh pointed to the painted shield. "I do not recognize the bitten sword on red."
"Ralishaz!" cursed Llawereint, the arrow snapped at the metal point, buried too deep within the orc’s bony head. "The god’s own luck."
"Do not swear." Airgedlamh chided. "And do not throw ill-luck our way. We'll need more than our fair share. Come let’s see what these orcs do now."
"Wait, let me salvage some of these shafts. We've wasted half a dozen on this one kill." Llawereint said and pushed an arrow through a thick-muscled arm.
"It’s wasting time that concerns me more." Airgedlamh bent to help and, with Llawereint, rolled the orc aside to reach a shaft that had passed half through. "Here's another one gone," he said. The arrow head had broken off when the orc had hit the ground.
"Let’s turn him over. Two are still in his chest." Llawereint said and strained to shift the orc’s dead weight.
"No, we've turned it once, lets just go. Those arrows are buried deep but still not showing through. Will come back and scavenge more when they're all dead." said Airgedlamh.
"What a waste, one arrow out of seven saved." Llawereint mused then quickly followed Airgedlamh.
***
Three orcs walked by. Daghdha and Arawn were well hidden just a few feet away from their casual destructive path, completely undetected.
"Jellytooth, we should call him..." said one orc.
"Jellylegs, be better." said another. "The way he shook, eyeballing those giants’ hairy knees..."
"He'd of sold the whole clan out to save his worthless skin, and now look at....." the voices trailed off and became lost and distant as the orcs moved on.
"We could have taken them." said Arawn.
"Too risky, we don't want to bite more than we can chew." Daghdha rose from their hiding place and began to follow the orcs.
"It will be slow going at this rate." Arawn sighed.
"Patience, patience, they will not escape us."
***
"You will though." said Ogmios.
"What?" Nithad said, startled. They left the fallen orc lying dead among the leaves uncovered, staring blind eyed up at the treetops.
"Come, we need to finish what you started." Ogmios trotted back to where the fight had first begun.
"What do you mean? What needs to be finished?" asked Nithad, confused and struggling distractedly through the woods.
They'd run down a small incline, now it felt twice as steep climbing back up. Nithad stepped to the level path with relief and a deep breath of air. Two bodies were sprawled out, an orc brought down by Ogmios's arrows and the body of the goblin struck down by a spear flung through his back. A trail of greenish blood led to a shrub, its base newly covered with a pile of leaves. It shook as they approached.
"Use your knife." Ogmios said and pointed to the trail.
"What?" asked Nithad once again. Then understanding what Ogmios asked of him he shook his head. "No, I can't."
"You must, it would be dead by that orc’s hand if you had not interfered." Ogmios sternly said.
"It’s badly wounded, can't we just let it go? What harm can it do?" Nithad pleaded.
"It might do none, or it might cost us much, and if it lives it will do harm, and if it doesn't, then will you let it suffer?" Ogmios asked.
They walked to the shaking leaves and Nithad brushed them aside. The wounded goblin shrank back, pulled itself into a ball and cried for mercy. "No kill, no kill, please, please." it wailed.
Nithad raised his knife, then stopped. "I can't," he said and threw his dagger to the ground and turned away.
"Then go." said Ogmios quietly. "I cannot have you by my side. This must be done. It brings me no pleasure, only shame that the world is run this way, that creatures such as this pitiful wretch exist and must be slain. We cannot trust its word, it would kill you, torture you first and laugh at your pain, were the situations reversed. You must decide, are you a ranger of your realm? Will you keep it safe and slay its foes? If you cannot do this...this sad deed, then go now, go back to your home."
Nithad stood, his faced flushed red. He retrieved his blade and knelt beside the huddled weeping form.
"I wish it wasn't so." he said. "I'm sorry." and he stabbed. The blade dripped green, he threw it far into the brush and turned to Ogmios. "I feel sick." he said.
"Good." said Ogmios, "Killing is no game, it must be done. Be never proud to take a life."
"You are proud." said Nithad.
"I am proud to defeat my foes, I am always happy to survive, and some, such as orcs, I hate. But hating them does not make me glad to kill." Ogmios looked around, "See to those arrows in that orc, salvage them if you can. I will retrieve those left in the other one, or we'll be using goblin shafts very soon."
"I do not understand." Nithad said.
"You will, or this way is not for you." Ogmios walked away. "Quickly now, we have wasted too much time."
Across the forest hill a horn began to sound.
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 10 2004 : 6:26:44 PM
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Part V
A large boulder stood high along the orcs’ trail. It ran across the edge of the hill and at its center jutted out. Irontooth stood upon this lip of rock atop its center-jutting curve while his kinsmen and goblin troops formed in a aimless mass below.
"Sound that horn again!" he yelled at Fang. He looked below at the gathering crowd. "Smiler...Smil..STOP THAT!" he screamed as the horn rang in his ear and drowned his voice. "SMILER!"
"Yes chief!" Smiler yelled back.
"Where is the clan? The horn's been blown. Who hasn't heeded the call?" said Irontooth. "Where are the little rats? Half aren't even here, Smiler, take some of the boys, round up those lazy scum, treat em like goblins and get them here. Wait! Send some more out to get the rest of those green faced vermin back in line and bring them here as well."
***
Arawn and Daghdha heard the orc leader’s words, they were within close range, and Arawn yearned to strike him down, but Daghdha held his arm.
"Why not?" Arawn asked in a whispered hush.
"Too soon, they have not discovered us yet." answered the old ranger.
"They will, he's sent out scouts to find his missing men." Arawn argued.
"I say no."
"It will draw them from the others and throw them into confusion. You know these orcs, kill the head and the body runs." said Arawn.
Daghdha thought about these words, and though his better sense said 'do not overeach' his heart said yes. "We talk too much, kill him."
The pair of rangers rose to get a better aim, and together loosed their arrows with two hands but in a single breath.
One shaft struck high and sank between shoulder blades. It did not go deep but pierced a hidden shirt of chain. The other, caught on some stray wind, or was mis-fletched and had a feather out of place, went low and hit beneath the shirt.
Irontooth flung his arms aside, his chest shot out and he lifted almost from the ground. The lower arrow crippled him and brought him down, he fell onto his side across the stony lip of rock.
Neither ranger hesitated, they fired again. Arawn first, Daghdha took his own good time. While Arawn’s quicker shot struck home, it bounced back, deflected from the mail. Daghdha's was a mortal wound, it struck the orcish leader in the head.
Irontooth died before he knew that he'd been hit by Daghdha's well placed shot. The orc nearby turned and watched as the rangers took aim again but he blew upon his horn and did not run.
Arawn put two shafts into its unprotected chest, but Daghdha charged and ran to reach the place which overlooked the gathered orcish clan. "Might as well be slain as a lion than as a hare." he called back to Arawn.
The orc called Fang dropped his horn, he screamed but, tongueless, only mouthed a grunt and then he choked on blood. It poured out instead of the words he could not form. He stepped back and fell, a third arrow whistled past his sinking head.
"In for a copper, In for a pound of gold." Arawn laughed out another platitude. He ran to be beside his friend and face the crowd of monsters just below the rocky edge.
Daghdha stood upon the lip of stone and shouted in their own tongue to the orcs below. "Here is your leader, by my hand dead! Next I come for each of you!" He placed his foot atop Irontooth's unmoving chest, then as the orcs screamed and roared, he shooved and sent the body rolling down among them.
When Arawn reached his side, Daghdha had fired twice already, his arrows could not miss their mark. The forest slope was filled with orcs and goblins just beyond them. They were close, the teaming orcs, and Daghdha's shafts passed clean through. Down into chest or gut and out the back, then buried in the ground. The orcs rushed forward, but the rocky edge was just out of reach. They turned to run to either side. Each moment that it took for them to choose, to turn to the left or right, cost them a life. Arawn joined in, standing beside Daghdha, to slaughter all that did not run.
The goblins, never willing allies on this march, did not even string their bows. Their orcish masters had turned to fight, the goblins needed no other chance, but threw down packs and heavy quivers. They ran off through the woods, shouting and laughing like children on a holiday.
***
Archers of Geoff
What of the bow?
The bow was made in Geoff:
Of true wood, of Hornwood.
The wood of Geoff bows;
So men who are free
Love the old Hornwood tree
And the land where the Hornwood grows.
What of the cord?
The cord was made in Geoff:
A rough cord, a tough cord,
A cord that bowmen love;
So we'll drain our jacks
To the Geoff flax
And the land where the hemp was wove.
What of the shaft?
The shaft was cut in Geoff:
A long shaft, a strong shaft,
Barbed and trim and true;
So we'll drink together
To the Grey goose feather
And the land where the gray goose flew.
What of the men?
The men were bred in Geoff:
The bowman - the yeoman -
The lads of dale and fell
Here’s to you - and to you!
To hearts that are true
And the land where the true heart dwells.
(Originally 'The Outland Bowmen' by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
from 'The White Company') (and thanks to Rip Wormer for his help)
Daghdha's bow thrummed with every shot and as he put his heart and mind into his archer’s craft he began to hum.
"You're not going to start singing are you?" Arawn asked already
knowing the answer.
Below them an orc leapt up and grabbed the edge of stone at their feet. Daghdha stamped upon its fingers. It gave a scream and fell back among its fellows. Arawn fired almost point blank, straight down, and killed another with a single shot.
"I'll sing if I want." Daghdha huffed. "Nothing wrong with my singing."
"It’s good for chasing off bears and scaring small children." said Arawn.
"Their coming around the sides." Daghdha said then went back to his work.
Arawn drew his sword instead of an arrow and, backing a few paces from the edge, placed it point first in the ground. It would be at hand and ready when the beasts came too close for the bow.
On either side the cliff the orcs found a low place along the ledge. Three were rushing toward Arawn on the right and five came at Daghdha on the left, with the remainder of the clan, those who were not lying dead or wounded below, following close behind.
Daghdha laughed and began to sing, "What of the bow?...." he began and fired on the running orcs.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 12 2004 : 11:40:27 PM
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Part VI
"What is that?" Nithad asked. They'd killed another orc that had stopped behind a tree to heed nature’s call rather then the summoning horn.
"That, is singing." Ogmios said. "We'd better run, we've come to kill these orcs not torture them."
***
"They've all gone!" cried Llawereint.
"That horn has called them in... Hey! Listen." Airgedlamh paused. "Hear that!"
"Daghdha's having his fun." Llawereint gave a laugh.
"Not that old ditty again. I wish he'd learn a different tune." said Airgedlamh.
"I wish he'd learn to sing!" laughed Llawereint.
The brothers did not seek to hide or move with care but ran toward the sound of Daghdha's deep and ragged voice.
***
"....wood of Geoff bows!" bellowed out Daghdha. He sent an arrow into an orc’s throat, it passed just above the rusted neck of its chain vest and split the spine, then went clean through and skimmed the shoulder of the orc running behind.
"So men who are free!" Daghdha fired again. The orcs were almost upon him, but so close that his arrows pierced chain, leather and padding beneath. With each line of verse the master bowman loosed another shaft. He struck the nearest orc in the chest and the arrow sank deep. The orc fell forward and rolled onto his back. Another orc leapt his downed companion, tripped and sprawled headlong.
"Love the old Hornwood tree!" sang Daghdha. The leaping orc took the arrow dead center, it cracked the breast bone and split it like a stub of firewood beneath an axe. Two orcs remained, one too close to use the bow and the other rising from his fall.
"And the land where the Hornwood grows!" He ended the stanza and, as the orc attacked, threw his bow in its face and kicked low, beneath the chain-shirt’s edge, and hard. A brutal kick that would make most men wince in empathy, the orc gave a gasp and staggered back crook-kneed.
Daghdha drew his sword and faced the last of his foes, still singing. "What of the cord?" he asked in song.
***
Arawn drew in a breath of air and with a slow exhale released his pull. The arrow sailed across the space between his foe, a large and ugly orc, and him. The world seemed to slow as he followed its flight, he could see every streak of black across the grey of the arrow’s fletch and ahead he saw the open-mouthed screaming face of the charging orc. Its pig-like snout and eyes were alive with a roar of anger and lust for blood, its arm was raised and in its hand it held a curved and jagged scimitar, a sign of some Ketish warrior’s defeat.
The moment’s spell of timelessness ceased and the arrow sped on and into the roaring open mouth. The orc flew back as if a giant hand had grabbed its head and thrown it from its feet. Arawn breathed again and fired, this orc flinched aside and the arrow merely cut its cheek. It blinked and placed a grimy hand against the wound.
A third orc came rushing on and Arawn chose to drop his bow and grab his sword instead. This one bore an axe, a blackened flat of steel upon an iron shaft wrapped around a thick oak-limb. It held it in both hands and swung, a wide arc flashed by and left a trail across Arawn's leather shirt. With a lunge Arawn left a slash across the orc’s unprotected arm and made it curse with pain. As he moved the leather began to tear and a trickle of blood ran down, Arawn had not felt the edge slice through his shirt and across his side, but the touch of air upon the wound was sharp and he bit his lip to keep from crying out.
***
"The cord was made in Geoff!" Daghdha told the orc. It circled wary of this foe, and as it did Daghdha drew a knife, one blade in either hand.
It rushed in, Daghdha knocked its blade aside and stabbed it with his poniard, up beneath its arm, then turned it around and drew his longsword edge across its throat. It fell in a sudden gush of blood and shook out its life upon the ground. Daghdha kept up his song, "A rough cord!" he sang as he knocked the blade aside, "a tough cord!" as he cut its throat.
The groaning orc he'd kicked staggered toward him, its sword held in a shaking hand.
"A cord that bowmen love!" he told this orc and leaning in with a ringing blow sent the sword spinning from iits grasp. "So we'll drain our jacks!" he sang and smashed his dagger pommel across its head. "To the Geoff flax!" he chorused and the orc’s eyes rolled yellow-white and then it dropped unconscious to the ground. "And the land where the hemp was wove!" Daghdha concluded. He looked around to see where his next foe was coming from.
"What of the shaft?" he sang. "The shaft was cut in Geoff!" Behind him Arawn dueled with two orcs, enraged and out for blood.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 16 2004 : 8:50:56 PM
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Part VII
The brush rustled and then exploded. Five orcs burst out then stopped in shock, face to face with Ogmios and Nithad, as the two rangers ran toward the sound of the horn.
Nithad jumped back, surprised, and nearly dropped his bow. Ogmios swung his own like a club and snapped it across the brutish head of one, then pulled his knife.
***
Airgedlamh ran, with his brother just behind. Ahead the singing went on and they could see several orcs running off to the north. They came to a rocky ledge and all around them lay the bodies of the slain.
"...we'll drink together!" Daghdha was singing. He stood in front of a sword-armed orc and exchanged sparking blows, catching the curved blade on his own, then lashing out with his dagger, driving his foeman back.
Arawn fought one handed, his arm pressed to his side, but the orc he faced was slow and as it brought its axe overhead, he lunged, and placed the point of his blade through its throat and opened a second mouth below its chin. The orc dropped the axe and with two hands covered the mortal wound, but its air was gone and, choking, it fell back and died.
"To the grey goose feather!" Daghdha called and trapped the orc’s blade against its chest and stabbed it in the thigh. It hissed and pulled away, the poniard lodged in bone. It grabbed the hilt with its free hand and waved its sword in a shaking fist. "And the land where the gray goose flew!" finished Daghdha. He stepped in and swung his sword in a downward, sideways arc that, starting high, took the orc’s head from its shoulders, then sent sparks flying as steel met iron chain and butcher-like buried his sword halfway through its shoulder blade.
"They've killed them all." said Llawereint, "You left none for us." He sounded like a spoiled boy who found the last bit of cake was gone.
"At least he won't be singing anymore." Arawn coughed.
***
The orcs had meant to run, but five to two, their nature met their fear and won. They'd fled but not left their weapons behind. Two were armed with staves, the fallen one with a ball and chain the other two with swords.
Nithad, only a few feet away, drew an arrow and notched it to his bow. A sword lashed out and nearly touched his arm, but he hopped back and, steady in the face of this attack, he fired point blank. The arrow struck the orc’s hand.
Ogmios blocked a staff swing with his arm and knew that he'd have a bruise to last him quite awhile. He stabbed a second orc and his knife tasted blood, but a second staff came down and knocked it from his grasp. The first staff swung again and, with both hands free, he grabbed it and pulled it from the orc’s slack-startled grip. Newly armed he thocked wood to wood and blocked the swing of staff, then swept low and barked an orcish shin.
The arrow-wounded orc dropped its sword and seeing its companion first lose a staff then hop back in pain, it turned and ran. Nithad shot it in the back, it stumbled on and weaved then fell.
Three orcs circled Ogmios, one bare handed, one wounded but with a sword, the last limping from a painful blow and holding only a staff. They wavered, Ogmios could see the hesitation in their eyes.
"Come on!" he yelled. "What are you waiting for?" Ogmios growled and charged at them. The limping one fell back and rolled. It came up empty handed and ran away. The other two prepared to fight, one growled back, the other cut a sliver from Ogmios’ staff with a feeble slash of blade. An arrow passed before their eyes, all three, Ogmios and his two orcish foes. They turned and saw Nithad standing near and drawing his bow again.
"Watch it!" Ogmios yelled but took the chance to rap the sword-armed orc across the head. The staff was thicker than the bow, it did not break, but the orc’s head did not fare as well. The unarmed orc raised both its hands, palms out to show that it would fight no more. Nithad's arrow took it in the side, too late to stop its flight, he cried out, but could do no more.
***
"You're hurt!" Daghdha put a hand on Arawn's shoulder.
"It's nothing." Arawn said.
"Listen to the hero talk." Llawereint laughed. "Come on, you're bleeding like a split sack of wine."
Airgedlamh listened to the banter with half an ear, but used a spear, retrieved from a fallen orc, to put the badly wounded out of their misery.
"Hey, this one is just knocked out." he called. "Someone hit it in the head, none to gentle, but still it lives."
"Tie its hands." called Daghdha. " We will put it to the question when it wakes."
***
"Well, that’s my bow gone." Ogmios said. He lifted the broken fragments from the ground then threw both away, a finely crafted weapon destroyed to down a single orc. "At least it saved my life." he said aloud. Both orcs he'd swatted down lay dead, Ogmios was very strong and knew how to put that strength into his blows.
Nithad walked stiff and blank faced past the bush where the orcs had appeared. "The singing has stopped." he said.
"We'd best run." said Ogmios, he drew his sword. "You're handy with that bow, but better draw your blade instead. We will come back to these..." he spread his hands to sweep across the bodies of the slain, "after we see what lies ahead." Then he started through the brush and back tracked the way the orcs had come.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 20 2004 : 8:48:43 PM
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Part VIII
Under Arawn's leather vest a long deep cut ran across his side. The wound mouthed open as he twitched, the air was cool on his back, and stung the gash the orc’s axe had left.
"Good that it bleeds so." said Daghdha. "The blood washes the poisons out, but we'd best sew it up and get some lichens from my pack. We'll make a poultice to keep the swelling down and let it heal."
"Do you need a strop?" Llawereint asked his bleeding friend.
"No." Arawn said and gritted his teeth as the needle went in and Daghdha stitched his skin.
"Take it." Daghdha said, not looking up from his needlework. "You'll break your teeth if you grind them like that."
Llawereint held out a leather bit, like one a horse might use, and Arawn stuffed it in his mouth far back and held it with his wide chewing teeth, biting hard when the jabs of pain shot up from his wounded side. Daghdha cut the cord, an ox's sinew, a spare longbow string, then tied it off neat and tight against the skin.
"I'd use spider’s silk first but I see none around. This moss will do, but change it when the sun goes down." Daghdha wrapped a wide length of cloth around Arawn's middle and made sure it held the poultice firm against the new-sewn wound.
***
"Hey there!" Ogmios called out as he came across a battle ground. A rocky ledge was to his side and orcs were piled beneath its high center lip. "Da, I hear your voice, thank the Shalm! And thank Him again that you have stopped that song."
"Ogmios!" Daghdha yelled back from somewhere out of sight beyond the edge of rock. His voice was glad to hear his son's. "Up here."
"You've had a busy time it seems." Ogmios called. He eyed the piled bodies, some scattered here and there but a heap of dead, four or five, one upon the other, lay beneath the rocky ledge.
Airgedlamh appeared to Ogmios’ right upon the rock where it began to slope to the field. He held a spear and with a graceful leap, jumped down. "I'm making sure the dead are dead." he told Ogmios and caught a pained look on Nithad's face.
"What's the matter with him?" Airgedlamh asked as Ogmios went by.
"He's tasted his first blood, made him sick." Ogmios said with a shrug.
"Good." murmured Airgedlamh, "My brother thirsts for it. I'll have to keep him under my wing till he gets better sense." He gave Nithad a friendly shove as the young ranger passed.
"Do you get used to this?" Nithad asked.
"Some do," Airgedlamh replied, "some don't, some never have the sense for it to bother them at all."
"Like Llawereint?" Nithad questioned the older man.
"Don't think him lucky." Airgedlamh looked glum. "He's missing something that he'll have to find one day. You may feel bad, but that's how you should. These ones we kill, they delight in death and pain. They feel bad only when it is their own flesh which hurts, and rarely for any other, even kith and kin. You feel pain for those you fight, it's a noble sense, but do not let it hold you back from what you have to do."
"I won't." Nithad said with fierce determination.
"Nithad." Ogmios called to him, he'd pulled himself up to the stone ledge. "Come on."
"Yes, Ogmios." Nithad called back, then gave Airgedlamh a thankful nod and turned away.
"Arawn you're hurt." said Ogmios as he walked from the rock edge. Llawereint and his father were standing over Arawn who sat with his back against the bole of a tree, his shirt off and a cloth, showing spots of blood soaking through, wrapped around his middle.
"You sound like your father." said Arawn, and laughed then winced and held his side.
"Don't laugh." said Daghdha
"You two are great for stating the bloody obvious." Arawn said, a bit petulantly. "Do we give chase?"
"Those orcs which passed us by were running for their lives," said Llawereint, "They'll have a good lead on us but we could catch up."
"Or we could track them." said Daghdha. "No families or homesteads out this way that a small party of the beasts could attack. Any hunters should be on their guard. No, we need to find out how these orcs slipped by Pelor's keep and warn Draupnir and his miners of them as well."
"If you think I will slow you down then leave me behind." Arawn said.
"Ha, listen oh brave hero." said Llawereint. "We'll take you along even if Ogmios here has to carry you."
"Hey!" said Ogmios. "When did I become a pack mule."
"You don't want me to answer that do you?" said Llawereint.
Arawn held out an arm, "Here help me to my feet, I can walk."
"Careful." Daghdha told his son. "Don't pull out those stitches."
"Yes." Arawn agreed. "DON'T pull the stitches out." He yelled as Ogmios helped him up.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 25 2004 : 6:34:07 PM
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Part IX
"So, what have we here." said Ogmios. An orc, its head bleeding from a badly swollen cut above its eye, looked up into the ranger’s face. It struggled and strained against the bonds that held it, two leather belts stripped from the orcish dead. It lashed out with unbound hands and grabbed for Ogmios. He stepped back and narrowly avoided its gnashing teeth.
"Why you vermin." he kicked it in the stomach hard, it doubled up curling in upon itself. "Who tied it?" Ogmios asked.
"Airgedlamh." said Llawereint his brother.
"He should know better. You tie these beasts like the hogs they are." Ogmios pulled out a knife and with Llawereint's help cut the orc’s hands free then rolled it over and tied its arms behind its back and strung a line between its feet and hands. "There, it can struggle all it wants now." Ogmios picked up a quarter staff that lay upon the ground. He prodded the orc’s shoulder and spoke to it in the crude orcish tongue.
"Who are you, what you do here?" he asked it. The orc only growled. Ogmios shoved it roughly with the staff before Daghdha came up and pulled it from his son.
"Here now." Daghdha said "Don't do that." He bent down to the orc and caught its eye, "Don't worry I won't let him hurt you, here look." He said and dropped the staff to the ground.
"I put it under foot; I have found it.
Lo, the oerth can prevail against all creatures,
And against injury, and against forgetfulness,
And against the mighty tongue of orc or man."*
Daghdha waved his hand slowly back and forth as he talked. The orc’s eyes widened and became glazed. It smiled up at Daghdha kindly. He reached down and cut its bonds, then helped it to its feet.
***
*Anglo-Saxon Poetic Charm
**
"Friend." the orc said and put its arm around the ranger.
"It really spooks me when he uses magic like that." said Llawereint.
"Magic and the power of the Oerth, they are both things you will learn, eventually." said Ogmios.
"I don't know, I trust my sword arm and my bow, these other things, I cannot place much faith with them." Llawereint declared.
"Ah well, maybe such is not for you." Sighed Ogmios.
"Friend." Daghdha told the orc. "What your name?" he asked.
"Sharptooth, I am." the orc said with a wide smile.
Daghdha walked with it away from the scene of battle and its companions bodies, such might put strain on the magic charm that made the orc feel the ranger to be his closest friend.
"And of what tribe?" Daghdha asked.
"Swordbiter. We strongest of the tribes." it said with pride.
"I have not seen your tribe before." said Daghdha, "Are you from the north, or south?"
"We are mountain clan, we march for many, many, days, always north. The dark ones, they promise much treasure, much fighting. Good food, and slaves. Always they want the slaves, but we can choose and keep those we want." the orc went on, his tongue loosened by the spell. "They say we fight alongside the big ones, the 'giants'." it used the word as it was said in the common tongue. "Big ones not try to take US for slaves, this the dark ones say."
"Who are these dark ones?" Daghdha had never heard of such before.
"They come at night, they smell odd, like a mushroom cave, but all wrapped up in cloaks and masks." said the orc. "They bring great gifts, coats of mail, fine swords and magic things for our chief. You kill? You kill chief, you mad at chief? Mad at me?" it sounded hurt but unafraid.
"Your chief was bad, tried to kill me, I will... am not mad at you." Daghdha said with care. His spell could snap if the orc’s temper flared or if it became too afraid.
"Good, good." it said but a look of alarm flashed in its eye. "Others come, they be mad. They will not like to find chief dead."
"Others, there are more of your tribe?" Dagdha asked surprised.
"Oh yes." the orc said. "We strongest of the mountain tribes. Our chief, he scout ahead, we are... we were his guard, the rest of tribe is ten of ten of ten. We lead and other tribes follow."
"How many tribes?" asked Daghdha in a quiet voice.
"Behind come the Breaker of Bones clan, the Rockeaters, Bloodfeet, Coldtongues,...hmmmm... some northern tribes too, but I don't know them by name." It wracked its brain and tried hard to remember what it had seen. "There were the orangeskins, 'hobgoblins' you call them, and the dogmen, and the big ones, I have never seen so many all at once. Some were blue, they live up where it is always cold, and some were red, they come from the burning mountains south of my home, but most were like you but big, big, big." it said and held its hands up high as it could reach
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jul 29 2004 : 10:22:07 PM
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Part X
Daghdha told his new orcish friend to rest and stay put, then quickly gathered up his men. "Ogmios," he called, "round up Nithad and Airgedlamh. Be quick about it." he said with a sharpish tone
"Yes Da." Ogmios replied, he knew his father must be worried to change his normal mild way. He ran to the ledge and saw Nithad coming from the north along it, and below Airgedlamh leaned against his spear and was drinking from his water flask. "Airgedlamh, come quick. Daghdha has some news."
"What is it?" Nithad asked. He ran and in a moment stood beside the older man.
"I don't know." said Ogmios. "Daghdha has the news to tell, best go stand by Arawn and Llawereint."
"Yes, Ogmios." Nithad replied, but seemed to take it as a reprimand.
Ogmios thought to stop and speak with him again, but shook his head and sighed, "This youth will have to learn." he said to no one but the air.
**
Five rangers were arrayed before their leader, Arawn leaned back against a tree sitting on the ground once more to rest his wounded side. Airgedlamh and Llawereint stood side beside, the younger brother leaned upon the spear he'd wrestled from his elder’s grasp. Nithad stood back, half hidden by Ogmios' broad shoulder.
"My orc friend tells me disturbing things. An invasion has begun, or so he says." Daghdha began. "I wish it was a lie, but my feeling is that every word he said was true."
"What did he say?" asked Nithad, he'd learned to question when faced with what he did not know.
"Thousands of monsters are descending from the mountains," Daghdha told them, "here along our northwestern boundaries, maybe the south is safe. The Stark Mounds could not be passeed without a fight.. But what do we have to resist this force? Nine small keeps along the borderlands and patrols such as ours to give word to the lowlands of these beasts approach."
"Pelor's Keep!" Arawn broke in. "It must be gone, it would lie directly in these monsters’ path, and it has a good, well kept road down these mountains and the hills, right into the gates West Town."
"They must be warned." Nithad said. "My cousins..."
"And how many more... and the Duchy as well, if this orc is right." Daghdha said. "First we must find out if he spoke true, then warn our folk."
"What of Draupnir and the mines?" asked Airgedlamh. "We have a cousin of our own who works there."
"I'm sorry but West Town must come first." Daghdha answered with regret. "Now let us go, and quickly."
"What of your orc friend?" asked Ogmios.
"He comes with us. He may prove of great worth. I have plans already to put him to good use." Daghdha turned and set off, first to gather Sharptooth from where he'd left him, then to start back-tracking along the orc clan’s trail.
Ogmios helped Arawn to his feet again and all five began to move.
"Take this." Arawn said and handed Ogmios his bow.
"That's yours." Ogmios said but Arawn placed the bow into his hand.
"The first pull would open up my side, and yours is gone. Smashing it on an orc head." Arawn laughed, careful not to pain his wound.
***
They padded through a swath of broken bushes and mindless petty destruction, it lead them to the roadway and along it to the north. The road itself showed small signs of
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