Touch Of Fate
/ Touch of Fate 236 Orcish Pride
The shocked and increasingly furious orc was a lot more obviously female than the warrior in his memories. She was wearing a mix of leather and chain armor, that was still light enough to not restrict her movements. As a result, her muscular but womanly frame was readily apparent. A long spear was clenched in one hand, although he noted that her knuckles were becoming alarmingly white as they tightened on the haft.
Fearing that the answer wouldn't come to him, he used Appraise in the hopes of jogging his memory.
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Talgratha
Age: 19
Race: Half-Orc (Human)
Class: Raid Leader
Title: Chief of the Ashborn
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[...Crap.]
"Ah! Talgratha! I hardly recognized you. How have you been?" He asked with as much feigned excitement as he could manage.
Evidently this was not good enough, since she growled and raised her fist in a threatening manner. For a moment it looked like he would try to strike him, but she eventually she unclenched her fist. With a disgusted noise, she instead pointed at him, "We are going to have that fight, and you are going to spend the next twenty years as my footstool. But first, let's hear about this message that was so important you had to stop our battle."
[Why a footstool? Or rather, do we really have to fight?...Now that I think about it, why does everyone keep trying to challenge me to some form of ritual combat?]
"Well, we can talk about the first part after we deal with the second, but let's bring in the other side's leaders. This message concerns all of us."
As they were walking back to Red, Sera leaned over and whispered to him. "I know you've got that strange destiny and all, but I still find it odd that you manage to make so many enemies."
"Its not that...alright, I see your point. In my defense, shes only angry because I beat her in a fight months ago, and I only did that because she was threatening to enslave me if I didn't."
"And I understand that, but somehow I feel it was still your fault in some way." She replied with a hint of a laugh in her voice.
[I'm glad you're finding this entertaining.]
Once they rejoined the rest of his intended audience, the various groups naturally formed into a triangular pattern, with Talgratha and Morris on one side, Jurtrik and Huthar on another, and Mike, Tal and Sera forming the last. It didn't take long for the two opposing factions to begin bickering.
Unsurprisingly, it was Jurtrik that started causing mischief. "I see the Almirans brought their pet dog along with them. Tell me manling, does she really kneel down and beg for scraps like they say?"
Before Morris had a chance to cut in, Talgratha was already launching back with her own insult. "Huthar, why do you continue to ally with this fool? His idiocy is going to get you both killed at some point. In fact, if it wasn't for this one stepping in when he did," She pointed at Mike,"you and all of your warriors would have been crow food."
"Jurtrik is a fool. That is certain." The Skulltaker's chieftain started, earning a growl from his ally, "But at least he isn't a half-blooded mongrel. It is an abomination before Angrosh, that one such as you has risen to Chief of the Ashborn. I can only imagine that your orc ancestors are gnashing their teeth in the Otherworld."
Talgratha shrugged in response, "That is merely your interpretation of the Unconquered's edicts. If my existence was really such a problem for him, he'd have never allowed me to reach my position. Rather, it is your tribe's practice of upholding outdated traditions that has led you to this point."
She drew herself up to her full height of nearly 1.8m, and allowed herself a smug smile. "Both of you are on the verge of annihilation, and in a generation, there will be no orc that can recall the name Bloodtongue or Skulltaker."
Evidently, this was a terrible insult for the leaders, who immediately pulled out weapons and prepared to attack. Morris and Talgratha did likewise, although only the latter looked keen for a fight. Clearly this would evolve into an outright battle if nothing was done.
With a sigh, Mike exercised his will and crushed the three hot-headed orcs to the ground under pillars of condensed air. "That's enough of that. We have bigger things to worry about."
He waited until they'd clambered back onto their feet before continuing, "I am here, in part, to inform all of you that Kingdom of Almir and the Dutchy of Tenundi signed a cease fire this morning."
"What?" Morris asked, shocked, "What happened? Did we win?"
"In a sense, yes, but the cease fire has more to do with our common enemy than the results of any battle."
"Ha!" Jurtrik cut in while nudging an annoyed Huthar with his elbow. "That bastard lost his nerve in the end. I told you it was a mistake to ally with the Tenundians. Didn't I tell you the Duke didn't have the spine for it?"
The Skulltaker Chief huffed, "Whatever. I take it that means you've found out about the Lacotian forces coming up behind us? Are we to fight together now? I'm surprised that the Duke would even tolerate such a course of action, given his feelings about the Almirans."
Sera spoke up, "The Duke was killed last night, along with the majority of his court. They unleashed a powerful monster with the intent of using it against us, only to have it turn on them. As of right now, Marshal Kiertesan has taken charge."
"While that is important information, I would rather hear about the Lacotians." Morris interrupted the stream of questions that followed her statement. "What is the situation?"
"According to Tenundian scout reports, a force of roughly 300,000 is currently marching west on the Continental Highway. They should be here by tomorrow." Mike answered seriously.
His friend suddenly looked intensely thoughtful and began muttering under his breath too quietly to be heard.
"The undead hmm...I haven't had a chance to fight them yet." Talgratha commented absently.
"That is because you Ashborn have long held the eastern mountains. You need not face the Tainted Dead every year like us." Huthar commented solemnly.
"All I hear is the complaining of weaklings too incompetent to secure better land for themselves. Besides, there is a world of difference between those cursed corpses and an undead army led by Lacotian necromancers."
"How could he know and not tell us?!" Morris's sudden exclamation prevented any further provocation from the orcs.
"Are you talking about your father?" Mike asked, suspecting that his second task had just gotten more difficult.
"Of course I am! He set this all up so that our forces would be right here when the Lacotians attacked. He even wanted me to stay on the defensive to preserve our fighting strength! And yet we..." He turned his furious gaze towards the surrounding field, which was still littered with dead and dying. "Argh! If he had just told me in the first place, I could have done more to prevent all this!"
[While I'm sure that someone as devious as the Count had his reasons for keeping this quiet, I can't help but wonder if it was the right decision in this case.]
Unsure of what to say, Mike simply patted Morris's shoulder, in what he hoped was a sympathetic manner. It somehow seemed to help, since the older man calmed down almost as quickly as he got angry in the first place. A cool, razor-sharp focus replaced the fury as he began speaking in a commanding manner.
"Now's not the time for this. I will have a long and in-depth discussion with my father the next time I see him, but for now, we need to concentrate on our next step. I presume that both Marshals are bringing their forces north in order to reinforce our position here, rather than have us fall back to the city?"
Mike nodded, "Yes. They deemed that giving the enemy free passage into the rest of the country was too risky when considering how easy it would be to swell their numbers with Almiran civilians. Our best hope at victory rests on containing them in the western half of the continent. To do that, we need to hold them here."
"We brought about twenty thousand, all told. Even combined with what remains of the Tenundians and their allies here, we'll still be outnumbered ten to one." Morris said with a frown. "That will be steep odds for us to overcome."
"Pah! You expect us to fight with you!" Jurtrik exclaimed. "I don't know about you, Huthar, but I've had enough of these manlings and their nonsense. I'm taking what's left of my people and going back to the mountains. You all can fight it out with the corpses."
"Is that head of yours for show?" Talgratha demanded. "Do you really think that the Lacotians will tolerate your existence if they win? Your people are just as much in danger as the rest of us."
The larger orc whirled on her, eyes filled with simmering hostility. "Then you'd have me fight alongside the people who were killing my warriors not ten minutes ago? I'd rather die than see the Bloodtongues reduced to such a state! If the corpses come for us, we will make them pay for every inch of ground."
"Death in this fight would be worthy of respect. It would earn us a place of honor at Angrosh's table," Huthar started as his ally began walking away once more. "But I cannot ask my warriors to stand shoulder to shoulder with their enemies, regardless of the situation. I too will take my people and return to our homeland. There we shall face our destiny."
"Are you two serious? The entire continent is at stake here! Maybe even the entire Inland Sea Region!" Morris yelled. "We'll need every soldier we can get, if we want to survive."
"I don't care. I'm done with all of this." Jurthik replied while walking away.
"As am I." Huthar echoed as he moved to join him.
[And I thought the elves were stubborn and bullheaded. Well, I guess its time for Plan B.]
"The both of you are cowards who are unfit to lead your tribes!" Mike intentionally spoke loud enough for the surrounding onlookers to hear. He used the orc's language to allow his target audience to understand him, and infused mana into his voice to ensure his words had their intended effect. "You weaklings don't deserve to be in charge. Therefore, I challenge both of you to Kal'thelk."
They were silent for a few moments, as if processing the sudden change of events. Jurtrik, as usual, was the first to respond. "...Ha....HAHAHAHA! Alright brat! I'm going to teach you the definition of suffering!"
"Fighting you two on one is dishonorable, but refusing your challenge would be more so. Therefore, I will have to assist in Jurtrik's lesson." Huthar commented dryly, however there was a fire in his eyes that suggested he was also feeling the sting of Mike's insults.
[So I have to fight them at the same time now? How does that...Whatever. It doesn't matter at this point.]
Mike pulled his spear out and held it at the ready. "Alright, lets get this over with. We still have a lot of planning left to do before the real enemy arrives."
"Ohh, I'm going to enjoy this." Jurtrik muttered murderously as he unlimbered his warhammer.
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Huthar slammed into the ground next to his unconscious ally and laid still, evidently too injured to keep moving. And with that the Kal'thelk came to an end, with Mike as the obvious victor. Truth be told, it was the most one-sided beat down Morris had seen since watching his father train his older brothers in martial arts when they were kids. The truly sad pare was that it wasn't even a matter of skill, Mike was simply too fast and too strong for the orcs to keep up. They never even stood a chance.
As the mockery of a duel came to an end, Morris couldn't help but feel conflicted. On one hand, he was glad his friend had improved to this point, and showed every indication of living up to the potential of his title. On the other, he couldn't suppress a certain degree of jealousy over how easily Mike managed to become strong. The speed with which he reached his current, dominating level of power was disheartening to anyone who spent years training to accomplish even a fraction of what he did.
[Something to get used to, I suppose.]
Glancing around, he noticed that he wasn't the only one affected by the results. The crowd of orcs from all three tribes had initially rooted for their kinsmen. Even the Ashborn seemed to favor their own race, despite political lines. However, the cheering had quickly subsided, leaving only sullen silence as the two chieftains were literally beaten into the ground.
Talgratha, for her part, stood with arms crossed, a faint look of disbelief on her face. She was watching Mike, unscathed after his brief confrontation, as he moved over and began healing his two opponents with a brief touch of his hand.
It was enough to make you want to complain to the gods about fairness.
"Still want to challenge him?" Morris asked the woman at his side.
She didn't answer at first, too busy staring. Finally, she shook her head to clear her thoughts and turned an angry gaze on him. "So what if he can crush those two fools with ease? He'll find me a much more difficult prospect. Actually, this is better. When I win, it will prove I am not only superior to him, but both of the other chieftains as well."
[Is she in denial?]
Mike started speaking loudly to the leaders he'd defeated. "Alright, you two have lost, and therefore your tribes will be assisting us in stopping Lacot. Are there any other individuals who wish to question this course of action?"
After a few moments of silence, he continued. "No? Okay, then lets get to it."
Chapter end
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