Campfire

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In the midst of the carnage, a knight stood over the bodies of several humans. As Kroktoth surveyed the scene in horror, the knight stumbled over and knelt heavily at his feet.

"I tried to stop them and protect the children, but their battle rage was too great for my lone blade." The knight removed his helmet and bowed his head. "I would pledge my blade to you in quest to defeat this enemy, but if your justice demands my life, so be it. The Lady will judge my soul."

 

Kroktoth nods apathetically; his shock and anger has not begun to subside.

He bellows with a tremendous roar, "Demons! Elves! Show your faces!"

 

The campers heard Kroktoth's bellows and readying their weapons, ran to his side.

 

"You wanna kill my people? Go ahead then!"

Kroktoth brandishes his axe, and snarls at Lancarthos, Falduran, Morningstar, and the swordsman.

The knight shakes his head and gently puts his hand on Kroktoth's shoulder.

"Stop it. No Orc, Elf, man, or Belorthi is capable of such a heinous deed. Let it go."

 

"i agree my people would never do something like this" replyed Falduran "and i doubt that another orc tribe would do this either"

 

"I disagree with you Falduran," said Morningstar, brushing a silver blonde lock from his forehead "The tribes have been warring with each other for centuries. Kroktoth, tell me what tribe attacked your clan?" Kroktoth gulped as his eyes scanned along the bodies,

"There are no other orcs with different tribal markings." all of them could hear the orcs teeth clench tightly "my people died without a fight." his cream tore the forest, sending sleeping birds from their roosts.

 

"Deathwinds," Lancarthos said. His face was worried.

"Death-what?" Falduran asked.

"Deathwinds. They sweep over tribes, killing them without leaving a mark. War is coming. The Era of War and Bloodshed is starting."

 

"I can believe that." The knight walked over to the non-Orcish bodies and turned one of them over with his foot. "For all the fury of their onslaught, there was only brutality wielding their weapons, no skill. They fought as automatons. When all were dead, the eight who remained simply ignored me and ran out of the grove, as though obeying the call of some unseen master."

 

Kroktoth sighs. In a demonic flash of anger and fury, he hurls his axe into a nearby oak.

The Orc looks at the Knight.

"Where did they go?"

 

ooc - so you're going to stick around for a bit then, C'Jakob?

ic - The knight gestured towards one particular spot of broken brush at the edge of the clearing. Falduran and the swordsman led the others along the trail until it simply stopped at the top of a low rise.

 

(Well, in a few threads. SP is beginning to interfere with academics.)

Kroktoth retrieves his axe from the trunk of the tree and walk over to the crest of the rise. He surveys the landscape beyond it, and sees nothing of interest in the dark.

He returns to the grounds of his fallen clan, slumbs against a tree, and tries to fall asleep. But perhaps the hatred, fear, and lust for vegeance is keeping him awake.

The next day, I will follow the path of destruction, if that is what these Deathwinds do.

 

Illidan shifts on the balls of his feet trying to work out the cramp running through his calf. Nevertheless he keeps his watch on the small band of wayward travellers.
During his hunt for the Deathwinds he had came upon the strange motly group in the night and sitting beyond the meagure light their campfire cast, he spied on them to be sure of their intent.
The wind brought to his ears the faint rustling of leaves behind him, before he was aware of the cold steel of a sword being pressed to the back of his neck.
"Hold and tell me of your intent!" The voice was thick with one of the many accents the local Elves employ.
"Illidan and you would be?" Craning his neck slightly he smiles as the elf looks down at the silver worked dagger being pushed firmly into his crotch.
"Ah," He states simply. "I am Falduran, good man Illidan."

ooc: Not too late to introduce my char am I?

 

OOC:Nope.

"What are you doing here, good Illidan?"

"Hunting the Deathwinds."

 

"The Deathwinds eh?" The elf slowly steps back, sword still raised and the tip of the blade pointed at the tall mans chest.
A Small flick of his wrist and the dagger disapeers up his sleeve. Standing Illidan turns to face Falduran.
Still not sure of the elves allegances, he brushes away his cloak to reveal the extended hilt of a longsword, which he lays his hand upon.
"Yes the deathwinds. I've been hired to hunt them down and find out as much information behind them as possible. Whilst at it I am also to cause as much damage to their organisation a possible." Illidan states in the same bland voice. He might as well be telling the elve it was raining.
"So, you're a mercanary?" The elves frowns and waits on Illidan's answer.
He pauses before answering and his face is split by a large white tooth smile.
"Of sorts," He answers.

 

OOCeathwinds aren't people. They are winds. What make people die. LoL.

 

(And this is a story where each person makes up his or her own stuff. Shoulda said that before, Eze )

 

ooc: I must've read it wrong I thought the Deathwinds were a group killing off orcs.
**sigh** I'll read it again

 

The knight cleared his throat. "I've not heard of these Deathwinds. Do they arise of their own accord, or are they summoned? Do they choose their targets or strike random victims? I'd rather not waste time pursuing the weapon while the one who wields it is free to harm other innocents."

 

"They are wielded by the one, whose name I cannot utter. For he is an enemy of all free people and seeks to destroy and rule as he wishes. They can strike anywhere, anyone, anytime and there is only one way to stop him," said Lancarhos.

 

"let me guess, would that be track him down and kill him?" asked Melfdale with a hint of sarcasm in his voice
"yes it would, have you got a problem with that?" replyed Lancarhos
"oh and i see that is going to be such an easy task, and how do you propose we trake this guy?" asked Melfdale with even more sarcasm in his voice