Post by Mrgrumble on Sept 27, 2022 21:52:46 GMT 10
In the dim light of pre-dawn, Fort Doom, the seat of power in the Black Eagle controlled Territories, came to life as another day began. The city’s populous began their daily routine, with craftsmen and labourers taking up the tools of their work. Squadrons of black-uniformed Doom Corps soldiers assembled to start their morning manoeuvres, the cold iron of their weapons on display and the pennants of the King’s army snapping in the light breeze. Merchants prepared for the day’s trade – unloading wagons, setting up stalls, haggling with the occasional early customer.
Through the increasing clamour of activity, two skull-helmed, Black Orc troopers cut a path along cobbled streets. Most of the buildings they passed were constructed of the same grey, featureless stone. Most of the shutters were still drawn, but here and there a low-burning lamp could be seen in an upstairs window.
They were bound for the eastern outskirts of the city, where the crude huts and tents housing many more thousands of their race lay spread over several acres, in the menacing shadow of the Fort’s high stone walls. The smell of countless cookfires greeted the pair as they approached, given only cursory inspection by the mounted soldiers riding the encampment’s perimeter, on the lookout for any of the unfortunate humanoids attempting to escape the bonds of servitude.
Passing a group of tired sentries at the area’s main checkpoint, the troopers kept on their course for the south-eastern sector of the encampment, drawing glances from the orcish slaves who had also begun their daily tasks.
These were a broken and dispirited people. Generations under Ludwig von Hendrik’s cruel yoke had seen to that. The young and the strong had a chance at a life outside the mines and labour camps – but that meant serving on the frontlines of war, so it was unlikely to prove a long life.
Winding along narrow dirt pathways which served as streets, the two troopers at last came to a dilapidated shack, set somewhat apart from its neighbouring domiciles. Here the smell of rotting garbage piles and shallow excrement pits was at least a little less overpowering than at the encampment’s heart. Pausing now, the larger of the pair stood and stared a while at the crude structure, his home from the age of ten to eighteen years, when he had been conscripted to serve in the Black Eagle external forces.
Knocking on the weathered wooden door, he called in the orcish tongue ‘Ma, it’s me’.
-----------
The huge figure watched in eager anticipation, holding his breath as he waited to see if the female Black Orc Trooper succumbed to the enchantment of the magical rod he held.
Now was the moment of truth, he thought to himself.
“Trooper, I need you to swap outfits with ma here.” Grufus commanded, letting out a sigh of relief as the enthralled soldier submitted to his domination.
Nodding to his mother, Grufus withdrew the next magical item needed in the dangerous escape plan – an object that would surround the small hut that his mother had called home for the last decade in a shell of absolute silence.
The finer details of the escape, he’d had to figure out for himself, albeit with the aid of a pair of rings and a magical potion that had made the planning come so much easier to him. Yet the seed of the idea had come from the beautiful, raven-haired woman that had appeared to him on so many occasions in the past several months.
Nazriel, she had named herself speaking to him in purring, seductive tones. She told of his potential and the need for him to escape the subject slavery of the Territories, for that potential to be fully realised.
It was she that had shown him how to focus the innate abilities that had only manifested previously in times of duress or whilst in the grip of rage. It was Nazriel that had proclaimed that he could command undead and fiend alike, call forth impenetrable darkness, drain the life force from another with a simple touch and so many other things beside.
When he had countered that he would not flee the Territories whilst his mother was still in servitude there herself, Nazriel instructed him that he must then devise a way of first freeing the Black Orc woman.
So, after weeks of careful plotting, he’d found the perfect, unwitting accomplice in the female Trooper he now held under magical compulsion. Being possessed of significantly less mental acuity than he, she’d been readily persuaded (again with the aid of magical items) to accompany him on a “routine inspection” of the Black Orc encampment where his mother resided.
Grufus now watched as the two Orc women finished dressing and bade the Trooper to sit quietly in the corner of the hut before activating the Chime of Interruption. They would only have minutes before the effects of the arcane enchantment wore off and the alarm was raised.
Using his innate powers, he imbued his mother with enhanced strength, so she might bear the weight of the Black Eagle armour she now wore more convincingly. Swiftly, they exited the hut, leaving the Trooper sitting contentedly on the hard-packed dirt floor, before Grufus kicked a wooden wedge beneath the solitary door. Hopefully it would buy them another minute or two.
Quietly urging ma to stay calm, Grufus led her quickly out of the encampment. Any Black Orcs they passed were either too intimidated by this towering brute to impede his passage, or were too broken in spirit to even care.
Deliberately slowing their pace as they reached the gates of the encampment, the pair drew no more than a cursory glance from the bored, human guards without and headed directly for Port Hendriks where a merchant vessel was preparing to cast off for Sulescu.
Their escape was almost derailed as they neared the docks however, when a particularly surly Doom Sergeant with an obvious dislike of non-humans attempted to second them for guard duty. Thinking quickly, and without panic, Grufus informed the Sergeant that they had been sent to the docks to collect an important delivery for Captain Cobain and that he’d be happy to explain to his commanding officer why this order had been overturned.
With a disgusted grunt, the Sergeant bid them on their way, obviously not liking the idea of having to explain himself to a senior Doom Corp officer.
At last, the pair reached the berth of ‘The Siren’s Call’, a merchant ship with a reputation for transporting ‘any cargo, for the right price’, just as it was preparing to cast off.
Hurrying below decks, they slumped down against a lashed stack of water barrels as the adrenaline slowed its course within them.
-----------------
It was close to dusk three days later, when the duo reached Selenica’s gates – riding at the back of a trade caravan out of Penhaligon, which they’d reached by boat up the Hillfollow river. Nearing Mirros they’d had to avoid potential scrutiny by imbibing potions of Transformation, which had given them the appearance of elves for a short while.
Grufus had shielded ma from the arrows of orcs that sniped from the banks of the river as they passed close to Highforge, but they otherwise were not in danger before reaching the relative safety of Penhaligon.
From there, the two had found passage by caravan to Selenica on the border of Darokin, clad now in heavy cowled robes. Penhaligon could have been a good place for ma to reside, Gru had thought, if not for the fact that Ariadne of the Six had declared that the Black Eagle had spies active within that city.
So it was that they reached at last, relative safety in the cold climbs of Selenica, where Grufus secured a modest but comfortable room for his mother. Paying for three months lodgings in advance, the innkeep was also given a substantial sum of gold to take ‘extra special care’ of the orc woman.
Two days later, Grufus bade his mother goodbye for a time and departed then to Ylarum, where he planned to make his presence known and hopefully direct any potential pursuit to that region.
Through the increasing clamour of activity, two skull-helmed, Black Orc troopers cut a path along cobbled streets. Most of the buildings they passed were constructed of the same grey, featureless stone. Most of the shutters were still drawn, but here and there a low-burning lamp could be seen in an upstairs window.
They were bound for the eastern outskirts of the city, where the crude huts and tents housing many more thousands of their race lay spread over several acres, in the menacing shadow of the Fort’s high stone walls. The smell of countless cookfires greeted the pair as they approached, given only cursory inspection by the mounted soldiers riding the encampment’s perimeter, on the lookout for any of the unfortunate humanoids attempting to escape the bonds of servitude.
Passing a group of tired sentries at the area’s main checkpoint, the troopers kept on their course for the south-eastern sector of the encampment, drawing glances from the orcish slaves who had also begun their daily tasks.
These were a broken and dispirited people. Generations under Ludwig von Hendrik’s cruel yoke had seen to that. The young and the strong had a chance at a life outside the mines and labour camps – but that meant serving on the frontlines of war, so it was unlikely to prove a long life.
Winding along narrow dirt pathways which served as streets, the two troopers at last came to a dilapidated shack, set somewhat apart from its neighbouring domiciles. Here the smell of rotting garbage piles and shallow excrement pits was at least a little less overpowering than at the encampment’s heart. Pausing now, the larger of the pair stood and stared a while at the crude structure, his home from the age of ten to eighteen years, when he had been conscripted to serve in the Black Eagle external forces.
Knocking on the weathered wooden door, he called in the orcish tongue ‘Ma, it’s me’.
-----------
The huge figure watched in eager anticipation, holding his breath as he waited to see if the female Black Orc Trooper succumbed to the enchantment of the magical rod he held.
Now was the moment of truth, he thought to himself.
“Trooper, I need you to swap outfits with ma here.” Grufus commanded, letting out a sigh of relief as the enthralled soldier submitted to his domination.
Nodding to his mother, Grufus withdrew the next magical item needed in the dangerous escape plan – an object that would surround the small hut that his mother had called home for the last decade in a shell of absolute silence.
The finer details of the escape, he’d had to figure out for himself, albeit with the aid of a pair of rings and a magical potion that had made the planning come so much easier to him. Yet the seed of the idea had come from the beautiful, raven-haired woman that had appeared to him on so many occasions in the past several months.
Nazriel, she had named herself speaking to him in purring, seductive tones. She told of his potential and the need for him to escape the subject slavery of the Territories, for that potential to be fully realised.
It was she that had shown him how to focus the innate abilities that had only manifested previously in times of duress or whilst in the grip of rage. It was Nazriel that had proclaimed that he could command undead and fiend alike, call forth impenetrable darkness, drain the life force from another with a simple touch and so many other things beside.
When he had countered that he would not flee the Territories whilst his mother was still in servitude there herself, Nazriel instructed him that he must then devise a way of first freeing the Black Orc woman.
So, after weeks of careful plotting, he’d found the perfect, unwitting accomplice in the female Trooper he now held under magical compulsion. Being possessed of significantly less mental acuity than he, she’d been readily persuaded (again with the aid of magical items) to accompany him on a “routine inspection” of the Black Orc encampment where his mother resided.
Grufus now watched as the two Orc women finished dressing and bade the Trooper to sit quietly in the corner of the hut before activating the Chime of Interruption. They would only have minutes before the effects of the arcane enchantment wore off and the alarm was raised.
Using his innate powers, he imbued his mother with enhanced strength, so she might bear the weight of the Black Eagle armour she now wore more convincingly. Swiftly, they exited the hut, leaving the Trooper sitting contentedly on the hard-packed dirt floor, before Grufus kicked a wooden wedge beneath the solitary door. Hopefully it would buy them another minute or two.
Quietly urging ma to stay calm, Grufus led her quickly out of the encampment. Any Black Orcs they passed were either too intimidated by this towering brute to impede his passage, or were too broken in spirit to even care.
Deliberately slowing their pace as they reached the gates of the encampment, the pair drew no more than a cursory glance from the bored, human guards without and headed directly for Port Hendriks where a merchant vessel was preparing to cast off for Sulescu.
Their escape was almost derailed as they neared the docks however, when a particularly surly Doom Sergeant with an obvious dislike of non-humans attempted to second them for guard duty. Thinking quickly, and without panic, Grufus informed the Sergeant that they had been sent to the docks to collect an important delivery for Captain Cobain and that he’d be happy to explain to his commanding officer why this order had been overturned.
With a disgusted grunt, the Sergeant bid them on their way, obviously not liking the idea of having to explain himself to a senior Doom Corp officer.
At last, the pair reached the berth of ‘The Siren’s Call’, a merchant ship with a reputation for transporting ‘any cargo, for the right price’, just as it was preparing to cast off.
Hurrying below decks, they slumped down against a lashed stack of water barrels as the adrenaline slowed its course within them.
-----------------
It was close to dusk three days later, when the duo reached Selenica’s gates – riding at the back of a trade caravan out of Penhaligon, which they’d reached by boat up the Hillfollow river. Nearing Mirros they’d had to avoid potential scrutiny by imbibing potions of Transformation, which had given them the appearance of elves for a short while.
Grufus had shielded ma from the arrows of orcs that sniped from the banks of the river as they passed close to Highforge, but they otherwise were not in danger before reaching the relative safety of Penhaligon.
From there, the two had found passage by caravan to Selenica on the border of Darokin, clad now in heavy cowled robes. Penhaligon could have been a good place for ma to reside, Gru had thought, if not for the fact that Ariadne of the Six had declared that the Black Eagle had spies active within that city.
So it was that they reached at last, relative safety in the cold climbs of Selenica, where Grufus secured a modest but comfortable room for his mother. Paying for three months lodgings in advance, the innkeep was also given a substantial sum of gold to take ‘extra special care’ of the orc woman.
Two days later, Grufus bade his mother goodbye for a time and departed then to Ylarum, where he planned to make his presence known and hopefully direct any potential pursuit to that region.