Arrow calls out the names of two Yellow Suns lingering among the crowd as he draws his bow and darts to the half-orc’s side. A pair of unwashed humans with tanned and leathery skin appear behind him, one armed with a pair of hatchets and the other with a shortspear and shield. “Tusk, are you alright?”
The coughing merc pushes himself to his feet and stumbles away from his attackers. “Yeah, Arrow. Alive by a nut’s hair.”
The dwarves seem surprised that John can speak their language. A few look impressed, others suspicious. The head of the lynch mob is about to respond to Fredrickson’s impassioned speech when a boot is planted on his back and he’s sent sprawling to the ground. The young dwarf roars with rage and whirls around, the heavy pommel of his sword cracking Dur’dan across the jaw (dealing a single point of bashing damage). Gasps fill the air and the peasant dwarf immediately tosses aside his blade and raises both hands in a panicked surrender when he sees who he’s struck, just as every longbeard present descends upon him. He’s dragged to the ground, a sword’s tip pressed against his throat. “My lord?” Asks the longbeard with the weapon to his neck, awaiting the execution order he assumes he will be given.
Dur’dan rubs his chin, and shakes stars from his vision. He waves the Ironbeards off and pulls the young Dwarf that struck him off the ground and pulls him in close,
“Do not let that happen again.”
He will say (what I posted previously) and then shove the young Dwarf back to the ground.
With the spectacle over the crowed dispersed aimlessly some muttering about how weak their leader is, others defending Dur’dans’ morality. In a brief awkward silence one of the humans made a bet that the Ol’beards days were numbered anyway.
OK Hob, time to sound impressive, he thinks as he enters the war council. Having no real ideas of his own, he pipes in when he feels appropriate. To John’s pincer suggestion, he says: “That sounds excellent! Great strategy.” To Karikhan’s suggestion to scout the massacre, he says: “A sound idea! Know thy enemy and know thyself and we will win the day!” To whatever Dur’dan suggested, he says “Yes, that sounds wonderful too!” After this 3rd time chiming in inanely, he gathers his courage to attempt to speak his own opinion when he feels an intense, burning glare coming at him in all directions from the Shelik elders. He bows his head and mutters to himself while rubbing his pipe together in his hands, then sits silent for the remainder of the meeting.
After drinking far more than one would think a Hin able, Hob wakes up the next day and leisurely strolls through the camp. During the half-orc incident, Hob sits to the side on a barrel, eating an apple. Afterwards he will wait for the crowd to disperse, before addressing the half-orc. “You know, I always thought it was awful to be so short, but now I see it is worse still to be too tall.”
Luckily for the half-orc, Karikhan missed the attempted lynching and its aftermath. Although he rode into the wilderness the night before, he returns on foot. As he approaches the camp, Khan lifts his right arm to the side, and a mighty red-tailed hawk screeches from far above and behind him.
The hawk is a stunningly beautiful paragon of its species. It’s nearly two feet long, with a wingspan more than four feet. The bird dives toward the giant human, and gracefully comes to perch upon his thick hide bracer. Khan tosses a morsel of meat to the animal, who catches it in her beak.
When he reaches the camp, he gathers the group to him. “Her name is Auren-hal; Proud Huntress,” he says, sensing their curiosity. “She will scout the massacre site prior to our arrival, so we shall not fall to the same trap sprung upon those warriors.”
Khan will then use beastspeak to talk to his new companion.
Fly high, proud huntress. At first sight of the vermin horde, return swiftly.
He flicks his arm skyward as the beast leaps into the sky, and flies gracefully away.
To the other characters, Karikhan says, “We must leave now, if we are to return before nightfall. The site of the massacre is not far, but we must not waste a moment with the horde unchecked.”
Dur’dan nods and gathers his things needed for the small trip. He will leave a Ironbeard in charge in his absence if any nobles are present that would be best, if not, the eldest. He will give him a firm reminder to keep things under control or he will answer for the actions of misbehavior.
John will also gather his things. He will gather his men and say to them, “I don’t like working with an Orc any more than you do… I too know prejudice, believe me. But what makes a man great is not a lack of flaws; it’s how he deals with them. So if he is harmed in any way before I return, I will hold you lot personally responsible. Yes, even if one of the dwarves gets him.”
Karikhan glares toward the half-orc. Khan’s entire purpose for existence has been to resist the greenskin invasion. The half-orc represents everything Karikhan considers evil and abominable in the world. Only his shared struggles with Arrow prevents Khan from attempting to kill the orc without a word, but he can not bring himself to work so closely with a greenskin.
“Tusk should stay with the rest of the Yellow Suns,” Khan says, attempting to be diplomatic. “If the dwarves see him missing today, they will assume he is spying for the horde.”
Karikhan’s options for diplomacy are running out. Soon, he realizes he may have to resort to violence.
“Tusk,” Khan says, trying to keep the venom out of his voice as he addresses the orc. “Do you insist on coming with us, or will you stay behind with the rest of your comrades?”
Hob feels offended by the blunt interruption of his attempt to chit-chat with Tusk, but there is little he can do about it. He stands and waits for Tusk to respond.
Dur’dan can tell that both Arrow and Kahn are going to push the issue with each other, “Arrow you have my word your friend won’t be harmed in our absence. However Kahn we are a man down and that… Half breed might be the extra pair of hands we need. Can’t rely on the lizard…” Dur’dan trails off at the end, realizing he said the last bit out loud. He smiles curtly and decides to keep his mouth shut as to not start yet another scene in the camp.
“How about we lesser races keep to ourselves towards the back of party during the journey then!” Arrow barked his voice oozing with pure rage towards the shaman and dwarf.
“And Dwarf if I had any trust for you and your kind it was lost the second Tusk was captured by your men.” Arrow shot at Dur’dan
“Shaman, I didn’t think we had time to argue over your ignorance and prejudice when there’s a battle heading towards your people as we speak.”
“Yes… because my plan is to secretly kill you all off. While I was sleeping I used magic to order my men to string yours up… You shant talk about trust around me elf! I told my kin to stand down did I not? You saw me scold my men and warn them of their fate if they harmed another ally! I didn’t shoot down your idea to bring 'em along I simply pointed out facts from both…”
Dur’dan grunts and does a pppsssshhh sound and waves his hand, “Hopeless… shouldn’t have said anything…”
A stunning realization overwhelms John: Had I been born to orcs, I too would murder and pillage! The world would leave me no choice! Suddenly, Tusk seemed less like a frightening beast and more like a downtrodden commoner. Exactly the sort of thing John hates. He pulls out his coin bag, counts out a few coins, and tosses them to Tusk. “An advance on your salary, my new shieldbearer. Come now; we must get prepared to leave.” He begins to head to get his equipment, then stops and turns around. “I will remind you that any insult towards my staff is an insult towards me and, by extention, the human delegation on this venture.”
The argument grows heated between the members of the party, dwarves and humans alike gathering to watch as a schism grows between the leadership of their army. When the shaman of the Voice addresses Tusk he crosses his arms over his barrel chest, spear now back in hand. “I’m going wherever Arrow tells me.” Though not a subordinate of the half-elf, Tusk is quite like Kittix. Fellow outcasts, they have learned through fear and iron and fire to distrust the norms of the world.
John Fredrickson speaks, tossing a meager bag of coppers (for it’s all John has) to Tusk: “An advance on your salary, my new shieldbearer. Come now; we must get prepared to leave.” There is a long pause while everyone looks at the human. Tusk looks between John and Arrow, at a loss for words. John’s own men are clearly agitated by their commander’s sponsorship of the halfbreed. The dwarves keep in line under the eyes of Dur’dan and his longbeards but undoubtedly they’re not taking this new development well.
All at once everyone begins to speak but is silenced by a piercing screech from above. Auren-hal is a few hundred yards above the ground, circling the crowd. She shrieks again to Karikhan, whose attention is turned skyward.
Karikhan shouts back to his companion, using Beastspeak. After receiving a response from the bird, he turns to the others with sudden urgency.
“She has spotted two large groups moving toward us, from the Crookback to the west, and the Burning Sea to the east! Dur’dan, it is time to prove yourself worthy of your rank. Make haste! Prepare for battle!”
Karikhan leaves Dur’dan behind to spread the word among his people, while Khan himself rushes toward the Shelic command tent to tell the war leaders. When he arrives, he flings the entry flap aside and rushes inside, interrupting anyone who may have been speaking.
“Two armies approach us, from the west and east. It may be Bloodjaw’s horde, split to surround us. If we are to seize the Crookback pass, we must move now! Leave everything here; we will take only what we need for battle!”