Chapter XXII - Cracking open a Cold One wiv da Boyz

Senlui · Post #1 » Sun Apr 15, 2018 3:38 pm

The rest of the night had passed by without incident, much to the relief of the warriors. As the sun rose once more, noted only by the dim light Nagarythe afforded its visitors, the Regiment gathered itself to set out to find the Druchii encampment that the enchanted scroll spoke of, to the south-west of the Rock of Galirian.

“Hey Boz, I got sum nasty night gobo brew ‘ere, wanna sum?” Noogl squawked, shattering the uneasy quiet of the Shattered Stand.

“Yez please Boss, I’se firsty.” Bozdag replied, taking a swig of the brew without even sniffing it, before burping loudly.

Caranordor clutched a tattered rag in his hands, marked with what might be seen to be a child’s drawings. Impressive for a goblin. Bozdag quietly wishing he could draw as well as his boss before rolling his eyes back in his thick skull and emitting a rather loud snoring sound, oddly remaining upright. Noogl chewed his lip as he stared up with his vicious little face at the Commander, studying the markings on the squig skin, holding it reluctantly in his mailed fist as if concerned by the filth even through his armour.

“Da pointy ‘eadz iz da elfy campz!” Noogl explained, thrusting a finger forwards to explain the symbols on his little map.

“I think this is where Nisothan is encamped,” mused Caranordor, flinching a little at the jerky movement of the goblin.

“We should use the whip next time, Commander,” sighed Gretka, irritated beyond measure by the brutes around them.

“Da dark red ‘un waz attacked by sum beastz when my boyz found it... os itz a wrong direcshun I fink”, Noogl continued. “Probubly destroyed by now.”

“Then perhaps they’ve left. No matter, we move out and we will find them soon enough.”

At a barked command, the Regiment mustered and followed Caranordor, Noogl close by, his short legs causing him to proceed at almost a run to keep up with the loping strides of the Druchii. It was not long before they reached a rock formation jutting up from the sundered ground, worn Eltharin runes etched along one side, noting the great deeds of a long dead elf. Running a hand along them, Caranordor frowned, before stepping back and looking up at the huge rock. “This must be the so-called Rock of Galirian.”

He inspected the map, and glanced to a fork in the road, gesturing with a nod of his head towards a narrow path winding off to the right. The Regiment followed his lead, hacking at dry thorns and sharp reeds that had overgrown the path somewhat, until at last the found it. Before them lay a gruesome sight. A Druchii encampment had been completely laid to waste by a pack of feral Kynead, the cold ones now fighting among themselves. Recognising them as the erstwhile mounts that had been sent into a frenzy by ambushing shadow warriors at the start of their patrol, the extent of their rampage was laid bare before them. Tents were ripped and shredded, dead warrior carcasses hungrily scavenged by the beasts. Dressed in the garb of corsairs, they were scattered here and there, apparently some had attempted to flee, others appeared to have been tossed like dolls through the air, lying in impossible positions with broken limbs.

“They appear to be sells words...” Duvaindir whispered, “Or to have been, rather”.

“Then their gold we shall take. They have no use for it now,” Caranordor replied.

Noogl looked on at the Kynead, preoccupied with rummaging around the camp, some f them sleeping off their meals on top of small mounds of bones and corpses. “Doze dead elfy gitz lukz like a ‘unz whoo attacked my boyz near da shorez...” the shaman whispered, eyes narrowing with a green glow.

“Gretka. Can you kill those still asleep... silently?” Caranordor asked, regarding the witch elf.

“Mad grotz...” Noogl grumbled.

Gretka nodded, taking out her daggers with a hiss. Nimbly she went forth into the small gulley where the camp had been put up, making her way towards a large slumbering beast. She descended upon the cold one, slicing open its throat. Its eyes rolled open in pain, tail and legs thrashing about in its death throes, rattling bones and discarded armour. It companions halted their feasting. One of the Kynead looked up from its feast, and sniffed the air with a bloody nose. Looking directly in the direction of the Regiment, it bellowed a roar, guts and bits of meat hanging from its knife-like teeth. It was answered by its pack, those slumbering rose to their haunches to join what would appear to be the alpha. With deadly menace they advanced upon the witch elf, stepping forward with heavy aggression to form a circle around her.

Sensing the danger, Andariyel urged in alarm, “Commander, let me help her!”

“Uwww... Dat’ll be nasty!” gulped Noogl.

“Regiment! Advance down the hill!”

With battle cries they rushed forth, weapons held in front of them. Disturbed from their kill, the Kynead shied away from their prey, roaring before lunging in to attack. With a sweep of a tail, Gretka was bowled backwards. Her ears ringing, she crawled into the relative cover provided beneath a cluster of fallen trees, one of the beasts attempting to snap at her through the timber, falling short by inches.

Two of the beasts charged at the orcs, saliva dripping in anticipation of fresh meat. “Da liza’d behind ya boyz! Krump it!!!” shrieked Noogl, whirling his staff around his head. Bozdag swept his blunt axe around in a large circle, catching the cold one in the neck. The brute force of the blow killed it instantly, the feral beast’s neck snapping from the strike. Pulling it out of the Kynead’s neck, the orc lifted it with two hands and brought it down over his head in a hammer-like blow to the forehead of the second, smashing through bone and brain.

Driven into a frenzy, the pack lowered their heads and dashed towards the Dark Elves. Caranordor stood calmly as one charged right at him. Keeping its companions at bay with his halberd, he lunged at the last minute, slashing at its head with a swift strike. The top of its skull flew free, and with a guttural howl, it fell to the flaw, sliding to a halt at the Commander’s feet.

Noogl brought his staff down to the ground, a green orb splashing upwards from it, which grew into a barrier around him and his gits, as Andariyel was knocked unconscious by a backhanded strike from a clawed limb. As Ithilsyn attempted to send a bolt of dhar towards the beast, it turned, knocking her over with a swing of its tail. She cried out as she landed heavily some feet away. With a cry of “Waaagh!”, Bozdag charged in, slapping the cold one with the flat of his axe to get its attention. Turning to him angrily, the Kynead bellowed its rage, its foul breath spraying the orc with ichor. Bozdag bellowed back, before swinging his axe round in an arc and sending its head flying from its shoulders.

Caranordor was nearly breathless from exertion. His pulse quickened, all seemed to slow, his halberd feeling an extension of him. Swinging it around his body artfully, he stepped forward, catching one of the beasts with the hooked back of his weapon, pulling it down as it tore through the Kynead’s scales and through an artery.

Sensing their pack mates were dead or dying, the two remaining cold ones gathered close, growling threateningly at the warriors, seeming now reluctant to attack. With a scream, Noogl shot forth a beam of green energy from his eyes at one of them, which exploded, scattering blood and entrails all over the camp. Caranordor attempted to strike the last of them, but his action only enraged the beast. Spotting the peril he was in, Ithilsyn pushed herself up, leaning on one arm. Raising a hand forth, she formed a claw with her fingers and whispered a word of power, causing the beast to fall to its knees apparently in a deep sleep. Gretka worked her way out of her hiding place among the tree roots, with a humoured smile on her lips. “Lie down, good boy.” She straddled its neck and brought both knives down behind its skull, severing its spinal cord.

The last beast subdued, the party took a moment to search the camp for loot and survivors.

“Letz find sum snackz.” Noogl instructed, patting his belly with the noise of a hollow drum. Bozdag laughed.

With a slight smirk marking his mouth, Duvaindir looked around at the carnage as Andariyel seemingly came back to his senses, rising to his feet unsteadily. Caranordor crouched over the cold campfire, raising a hand over the ash to attempt to discover how long this site had been laid to waste, the remainder of the party checking what was left of the tents. Lifting the flap of one of them, Ithilsyn jolted with surprise as a low groan came from within. Duvaindir called out in surprise, “Andariyel, there is someone in that tent... Drag him out!”

The warrior obeyed, leaning in to grab the tents occupant by a leg, pulling him out into the open. Clad in armour, it seemed neither it nor he had ever seemed to have seen battle. Struggling at first, the elf soon realised who was upon him. “Druchii!” he exclaimed, almost laughing with joy, “I feared you might have been one of our cursed cousins, come to finish me off...”

“Nisothan Ardelon, I presume,” replied Caranordor, curling his lip at the coward. “The famed explorer....” Holding out a hand to help the Dark Elf up, he added, “and not so famed soldier, apparently.”

The Druchii laughed nervously replying, “Ah, I thought I recognised you. Caranordor, was it? Yes, I remember you from the banquet at Naggarond. Are you in charge of this group?”

“That I am.”

“Khaine smiles upon us then! I am on a mission of utmost importance. Quickly, you must escort me to my patroness, the famed sorceress Zathos Chillwind. I am sure that she will reward you handsomely.”

“I would expect nothing less after what we have witnessed here. Lead the way then.” Caranordor replied, over the din of the Greenskins scrapping over loot.

“Indeed, it was a travesty. These sells words were hardly worth the money. They couldn’t even fend off a bunch of beasts. May we begin our journey then? She is stationed nearby,”

The Regiment looked about at each other warily, having witnessed this conversation. Ardelon turned to them, thanking them for their help as if he were some grand officer. And so, under Caranordor’s orders, they marched. To whatever reward awaited them.

Return of Reckoning

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Chapter XXII - Cracking open a Cold One wiv da Boyz

Chapter XXII - Cracking open a Cold One wiv da Boyz

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