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Post by frostwander on Jan 4, 2015 7:03:51 GMT
A lone orc strides out of the mountains toward the Firetooth city of Thundercrown. He carries a simple travelling pack, and leans heavily on the tall pole he walks with. Draped from the top of the pole is a banner, sky blue cloth with a stylized wolf’s head in dark gray embroidery.
His features are pitted and rough, and his thick clothes similarly show signs of heavy wear. A long, jagged scar runs across the left side of his scalp above his ear, leaving a gap in the long red hair that covers the rest of his head, straight and loose to the wind. He reaches up periodically to brush at the scar with thick, meaty hands and stubby fingers.
The traveler continues his steady walk toward the city until someone takes note of him, then stops and, raising a hand in a simple friendly wave, speaks. “Hello. I am Edrigu gro Bernat, and I have come to the Firetooth Clan to speak for Lukene gra Otsana, Chieftess of the Wolfwyrd Clan to the north.”
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Post by talis on Jan 5, 2015 23:03:07 GMT
Edrigu was met first by a small patrol of Firetooth soldiers. They were exceptionally nervous upon seeing him approach, handling their elaborate muskets nervously and watching his surroundings. The empty wastes failed to reassure them that he was not some elaborate ruse to draw them off guard before they were ambushed. It was perhaps lucky that they had not shot him as he approached. Still, there was no refusing an envoy, so a pair of militia orcs volunteered to escort him to Thundercrown.
The city itself was in the midst of a festival. Bright fires had been lit in street intersections and every hall was full of guests. Fireworks occasionally launched into the sky and burst apart in elaborate displays of color. Down in the square Orcs competed in marksmanship contests and crossed swords in the ring while others cheered on and vendors hawked their goods from makeshift stalls. Edrigu's escorts had to push, kick and shove their way through the crowds to reach the Great Hall. Here too, a great fire roared in the center of the hall, while guests sat and spoke around it as women served cups of mead. At the far end of the hall sat Chief Garlog, speaking with another orc over a cup.
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Post by frostwander on Jan 8, 2015 20:36:54 GMT
Edrigu walked behind the Firetooth orcs as they made their way through the festival, letting them do the work of making way through the crowd. He was no stranger to pushing and shoving, but it wouldn't be the best impression for him to get rough with the townsfolk. He smiled at the fireworks, and at the brightly decorated buildings and streets. Who thought orcs could only have a good time by fighting?
Once he had been led into the Great Hall, Edrigu nodded to his escorts in thanks, and made his way between the tables and the bonfire to an opening in front of the Chief. "Hail, chief of the Firetooth Clan!" Edrigu's voice, used to shouting orders on a battlefield, was easily heard over the din and celebration in the hall. "I am Edrigu gro Bernat, sent to speak with you for Lukene gra Otsana, of the Wolfwyrd Clan.
"May I join you in your festival here, to speak of friendship between us?"
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Post by talis on Jan 13, 2015 19:17:33 GMT
Garlog turned to this new orc, who was dressed strangely and spoke in a strange manner, different from both Firetooth and wastelander dialects. "I thought I knew the tale of every clan in the wastes, but I have never heard of the Wolfwyrd Clan." He pointed out. "If you come in peace you are welcome in my hall, but tell us your Clan-tale so that our bards can recite it."
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Post by frostwander on Jan 16, 2015 17:38:02 GMT
Edrigu set down his travelling pack, and leaned his pole with its banner against a nearby table. He smiled, running his fingers along the scar on his scalp, thinking. He liked this orc chief's approach - the clan-tales were important, and should be repeated often to keep them in people's minds.
"The Wolfwyrd are a new clan, and our tale has not traveled far ... yet. Our Matriarch has a saying, 'Our tale is still being written.' But I can tell you the first chapter." The warrior took a deep breath, and began to speak of Otsana gra Ortzi, She-wolf and daughter of the Sky.
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Post by talis on Mar 14, 2015 3:05:54 GMT
As Edrigu told his story the table silenced. The bard stopped and listened as orcs gathered around to hear a new tale repeated.
"A fine song." Garlog complimented him when the song was finished. "We will remember it. What brings you to my hall?"
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Post by frostwander on Mar 28, 2015 16:51:45 GMT
Edrigu gro Bernat nodded in thanks to the compliment. "I have come to speak on behalf of our monarch, Lukene gra Otsana. As our song told, our people have gathered together and separated ourselves from the heathen tribes of the wastes by exile and choice. As we are establishing ourselves, we want to make friends of our neighbors and fellow followers of the Aedak.
"Lukene hopes we will be able to speak of helpful trade between our people, so we may both benefit from the other's closeness. And also wishes to learn more from the Firetooth of the further nations of the Empire, which we have not yet encountered."
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Post by talis on Mar 29, 2015 6:25:59 GMT
"We have been the only Aedekom orcs for some years now." Garlog considered, "The Elders will be pleased to see Aed's word spreading."
"Now to learn about the Firetooth. You have given us your Clan-song, now we will share ours. Take it back to your people so they will know our history." The other Firetooth cheered for the tale. It was an old favorite, and Edrigu's song had made them reminiscent. Soon enough the bard was sitting in a center-stool in front of the fireplace, plucking at his lyre. The tale was an old one retelling the founding of the Firetooth tribe. It was a great epic, lasting many hours. Survaekom historians would have waved it off as mere folklore, but to the Firetooth it was their sacred history, passed down from their fathers and grandfathers.
The bard told the tale of a time long ago, when orcs, goblins and giants ruled the lands, and the races of men, dwarves and elves hid in their homelands. There a small and weak clan called the Blacksoot lived. They struggled to survive until the time of a young warrior named Ortag. Ortag went on a hunting trip and saw dwarves shape steel with flames. He understood that Fire was power and resolved to master it for his clan.
First he became an apprentice among the dwarves, and after many trials mastered metalsmithing and shaping iron to his will. Unsatisfied, Ortag travelled out into the mountains on his own. There, with Aed's guidance, he discovered the arts of powder-making and gunsmithing. These he took back to his clan. The Blacksoot began to trade with foreigners, taking their gold, accepting their gods and welcoming their arts. Ortag helped them establish laws to limit violence and elect a chief rather than let him be chosen by violence.
But at the same time the other orc clans began to band together. They were lead by Garthik the Dragon, who saw that the other races would some day become a threat and wished to destroy them. Garthik demanded that the Blacksoot join his campaign with their new weapons. When they refused he declared them traitors to the orcs, even though they had honor.
The story culminated in the Battle of Dragonsbane, where a small Blacksoot army, armed with Ortag's guns and cannons, drilled and trained in strategy and armored in steel, held a small hill against overwhelming numbers. Ortag's strategies outwitted Garthik, while the Blacksoot's skill and arms protected them. Volleys of gunfire broke the attacking hordes, and cannons roared like thunder from atop the hill. Finally Ortag shot Garthik with a great gun called Gulfanthir. The attacking horde broke and fled back to the wastes.
The Blacksoot took on a new name after that: they were called the Firetooth, after the weapons they used, which released bursts of burning flame that cut and bit when fired. They named the hill they had defended Thundercrown and made it their capital. From then on they patrolled all along the river, from the mountains in the north to the swamplands to the south, and served as a buffer for the other races against the wasteland orcs.
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Post by frostwander on Mar 31, 2015 6:40:32 GMT
Edrigu listened as the Firetooth bard took his turn, relating the tale of that clan's origin. He nodded from time to time, parts of the story he had heard before from another perspective. When the tale finally ended, he gave a grunt of approval and a firm nod. "It is good."
The Wolfwyrd orc turned back to the head of the hall where Chief Garlog sat. "I think our people have more in common than we may yet realize. We are both civilization brought out of the stagnant wastelands under the guidance of a strong leader, with the Aedak as their compass. Otsana and her daughter will be pleased to have you as neighbors and allies. It will be good to have a clan akin to our own so close, while we yet become familiar with those further nations."
Edrigu took up and held the blue banner of the Wolfwyrd on its standard in his left hand, and approached until he stood a few paces in front of Garlog, and offering his right arm extended toward the chief. "We would have your friendship, Chief Garlog Whiteshot, and that of your people."
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Post by talis on Mar 31, 2015 15:40:36 GMT
Garlog grinned toothily as he stood and accepted Edrigu's hand. This was an orcish way and an orcish agreement, very different from the false pretenses and smiling words of Elon and the Empire.
"We would have your friendship." Garlog replied. "Let us respect each other's lands and customs. If there is a dispute between us, let it be settled with honor. If a Wolfwyrd travels among the Firetooth he will be welcome in our halls."
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Post by talis on Apr 21, 2015 20:19:15 GMT
Given the significance of the Vaekirate in both nations and the current rocky relationship between them, it was perhaps no surprise that the first envoy from the Firetooth to the Wolfwyrd was not an elder or chieftain, but a priest of the Vaekirate come to see his far-northern counterpart.
Zwerkir Hazim had not long been among the Firetooth, but unlike his predecessor had adapted swiftly and miraculously. He was from the southern Raethon tribes, and thus was more familiar with the clannish instincts and superstitions of the orcs than with the strange practices of the Byrnians and southern Esharans. Now he had come north to call upon the new priest of the Wolfwyrd and discuss matters both theological and political.
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Post by frostwander on Apr 22, 2015 4:17:08 GMT
Zwerkir Belnim sat on the steps to the temple in the Rain District. He still didn't understand the name ... it didn't rain there any more than anywhere else in the city, and that wasn't often enough to write home about either. But he'd come to like it here, the climate and the people, in the time he'd spent since he accompanied Zwerkir Gerolf to the newly formed kingdom. Enough so that when Morgnoth, the orc who had been the temple's priest , departed to join the Naarzij bij Noor, Belnim had volunteered to remain in the orcish capital to serve in his place.
He rose from his ponderings as he saw the Zwerkir Hazim arrive. The city guard who brought the orc made a gesture of respect before returning to his post. Belnim smiled, "Blessings of Aed upon you, brother. What brings you to these lands?"
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Post by talis on Apr 23, 2015 2:25:13 GMT
"Blessings upon you as well, brother." Hazim bowed with a toothy grin. "I come on behalf of High Priest Erog who sits at the Cathedral of Erasmus. He believes the time is right to renew our drive to bring Aed to the orcs, and wishes to call a conclave at the Cathedral to discuss the issue and perhaps stage missions into the wastes."
"I come bringing his formal invitation to said conclave." Hazim bowed again, removing a carefully written scroll and presenting it to the other priest. "On behalf of High Priest Erog you, your acolytes, and any Wolfwyrd you choose are invited to attend at the Cathedral of Erasmus three months hence."
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Post by frostwander on Apr 24, 2015 0:27:53 GMT
Belnim accepted the scroll, giving it a glance before returning his attention to the orc priest. "Thank you for this invitation, brother. I am excited to hear the news! If my duties here permit, I will certainly be there myself. I will bring this to the attention of the chieftess promptly, so we can discuss who is best suited to attend this conclave."
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Post by talis on Apr 24, 2015 3:50:00 GMT
"I look forward to it." Hazim replied. "The Chieftess would be welcomed as a guest of honor if she could make the time to come. I understand that she is perhaps not overly fond of the Firetooth after recent events, but she is the hero of Aedekom among the north. Her efforts are the inspiration for this council and the Vaekirate's mission."
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