View Full Version : Messengers, Part 2: Blood and Darkness

10-09-2011, 02:51 PM
Part 2 continues where Part 1 left off, but it begins with a new character, someone who will go on to unify much of the orcish people into one mighty horde...;)

Part 2: Blood and Darkness

A strange procession marched down from the hills, towards the forests of Thikken Dal below.

There were almost one hundred-twenty orcs in all: thirty of these were simple laborers from the woods, brought only to assist in the transportation of the prize that the small army had won. The remaining ninety were highly trained warriors from the eastern lands, who rode upon sturdy, snarling wargs.

Eight massive wagons were dragged by the laborers along the muddy trail. All day they had been traveling, and only now, as the sun began to set, was their destination in sight.

The cargo of the army was precious: it was nothing less than the corpse of a black dragon, sliced and diced into manageable chunks. Every inch of it was valuable: the meat could feed many warriors, the teeth could be fashioned into spearheads, the claws could be fashioned into swords, the scales could be fashioned into excellent armor; from the bones would come building material, and from the eyes would come jewelry. And the blood…that was the most precious by far. For it was used by powerful wizards for their mysterious rituals; and wizards always paid very, very well.

The commander of the hunting party was a young orc, but destined for greatness; he called himself Thagûrz. He had come to these western lands to take part in what was quickly becoming a hugely profitable trade: dragon slaying.

The battle had been fierce, and forty good orcs had been slain. But Thagûrz was happy: they had victory. What else could matter, compared to the glory that victory will bring?

Thagûrz did not know this area well, but he was sure that a city of some size must be around here somewhere. After he sold the meat, bones, teeth, and claws, he would take the dragon blood into human lands to sell; while orcs might not be tolerated father north, the black markets of Rollingplain did not discriminate.

But something else occurred, which the orc warrior definitely did not plan.

The first orc tribe they came across…was dead. Their town was a burning ruin, the bodies of its defenders strewn about the battlements.

The cause of this devastation was clear: a human army, of at least three or four hundred men, marched away from the battlefield, laughing and strutting through the forested hills.

Naturally, Thagûrz had to make sure these humans paid for their victory…in blood.


The dark night enveloped Rollingplain like a blanket, granting respite from the sun’s harsh glare.
Seven elves rode swiftly through the darkness, their unicorns making no sound as they galloped through the fields.

Daerior now had another message to deliver, this one to a most unlikely recipient: Sir Morin of Denwall. But that wasn’t the worst of it: the general Arkantos had not told Daerior why this journey to Denwall was so urgent, nor what message they were truly meant to deliver. Instead, the general had sent along one of his grand masters, who would handle the parley.

This didn’t really bother Daerior; he was used to others making decisions for him, for treating him as a child. His family never informed him of any important decisions, nor did his escort; Daerior suspected that they, at least, had some inkling as to the purpose of this mission. But even though he was technically in command of the party, Daerior knew the rangers believed him to be nothing more than a spoiled brat who happened to be favored by various Archons.

The rangers didn’t even inform him when they were under attack; they thought it would be safer for everyone if Daerior kept his sword in its golden scabbard.

The twang of bow strings was met with cries of agony from both sides. Daerior turned his mount around, and was nauseated by what he saw: two of the rangers already dead, slumped over in the saddle as leather-clad men speared the unicorns. The grand master had his sword out and was hacking at the bandits, sending bloody heads flying into the bushes.

Daerior drew his short sword, sliding silently from the sheath. He charged his unicorn back towards the fighting, and lifted back his arm to burry the blade in the chest of a snarling, bearded man-

A net fell atop him, tangling the legs of his unicorn, sending them both sprawling to the muddy path. The last thing Daerior saw was the grim, sneering face of a raider looming over him as the club smashed into his skull.

Then darkness.

10-09-2011, 04:37 PM
a good read, you write new chapters fast. Keep up the good work.

10-09-2011, 04:39 PM
The next chapter is already being written! Stay tuned for slave traders!:p

10-09-2011, 05:57 PM
sweet. Nice one dream

10-09-2011, 06:00 PM
Part 3's posted two, and hopefully part 4 will be written soon!