The Savage Keen

[Lampir]

Air. Water. Earth. Fire.

Each rune had been carved in the dirt with the end of my staff. The Staff. The one that had been forged together and later gifted to me by the wizard with the shining silver smile. A staff fused with all four elements – the ultimate druidic ritual tool.

Whereas before I would have had to lay out censors, pyres, bowls and stones for each element and spend much longer in preparing for such a cleansing ritual as I was planning, this staff made such tasks nearly effortless. It had proved an ideal conduit and super-charger.

I stood at the final rune, orc-sign of course, wavering. If Krumarth’s words were true, where had Gruumsh been for me? Was he so much more special that I was tossed aside but not he? Had I betrayed my heritage so fully I was no longer even orc enough for a vision? Had my path to follow Grumbar tainted me and ruined my chances at a full and happy life? Had all this struggle been for nothing?

I couldn’t accept that his vision was true. It was too terrifying to consider.

I was… I am a coward.

I hid behind the fear, fused it into a ball of anger and denial and slammed the staff into the ground.

Earth, my beloved element, flared to life in each of the orc-sign.

SLAM! – The Air rune
SLAM! - Water
SLAM! – Earth

I stopped again, staff hovering and ready to complete the final corner. Krumarth lay there in the middle of the runes, watching silently. I realized I had been screaming at each slam. Screaming “NO! NO! NO!” at each slam. Did I mean it? Was I that far gone?

“NO!” I declared, this last one with the final SLAM of the staff meaning something very different from the first blind screams.

As all four sigils lit up, so too did the runes of my staff glow, the pulsing light lifted from the ground and drew into the staff, this curled up through my grasping hand, across my arm down my shoulder and along to my other, outstretched hand.

It was like trying to redirect lightening. My own energy was simply like the banks of a river, directing the course and flow. I could not hold this much power and I could not survive if I made a misstep. There was no going back, there could be no doubt for this to work and neither of us to die.

My fingers curled as I grasped and forged the unseen ether and twisted it into a spear of power. With one final “NO!” I thrust the magic into Krumarth’s prone body.

The reaction was violent but it took only a few moments of the vibrant power to thrust some shade from his body. The spirit cursed and spit and I, fool that I was, turned my hand, spiraling the magic up from Krumarth and into the spirit “BEGONE!” I screamed. … Something swallowed the spirit and then there was silence.

I collapsed to my knees, gasping for breath. It took some time to realize something had gone terribly… terribly wrong. I had not exorcised Krumarth… the veins were taking over his body as if whatever had been holding them back was gone. I was exhausted, but I fumbled for a vial of healing magic to try and force feed him – but my fingers were numbed from the force of the ritual and by the time I got the vial uncorked, Krumarth’s hand batted it away.

What stood up… had no soul in its eyes.

I would like to tell you I boldly ripped it to shreds. Krumarth was never a strong warrior, but neither have I been. With so little magic left, so much effort sent into the ritual, the thing that was whatever was left of Krumarth easily grabbed me and started to drag me away with hunger.

I tried to break free but its grip was absolute. It was all I could do to evade when it went for my face. Stupid! Stupid! Why did I not find someone who knew what they were doing?? Why did I do this ALONE?! STUPID!

I screamed for Kile, I screamed for Krumarth. What I got was not what I expected.

Something, that shade, pushed itself out of some hole in the realm. It grabbed the body that was dragging me and shoved its way in through every orifice it could find. The body suddenly collapsed and I, in a terror I had not felt in many many years, scrambled on all fours for my staff I had dropped, and then further away from the thing that was Krumarth – summoning elemental aid to protect me.

Krumarth blinked, and then shouted “Oh hell!” as the veins continued to creep over him and his hands reached up to strangle his own throat.

I was paralyzed with fear – not know who to help or how to help or if there was anything to even save. I was stunned with my own stupidity and very nearly let Krumarth kill himself. But then he begged for me to help … and I did. I grabbed his hands and ripped them off of his throat.

The orc wizard coughed up a great gob of black bile that sizzled as the veins retracted.

I would like to say again that this is where all was well and he was cured – but I cannot say that. He never did explain how my healing ritual would cleanse his very soul out of his body. He wanted nothing more to do with me or the humans or dwarves or elves. He wanted to walk alone – remain alone.

I was too frightened of what he was and what I had done. I did not stop him or make more than the weakest argument to try and sway him.

He is a ghost. Maybe he is already dead.

I retreated to the faerie circle where I had long ago been taught by an elf in the ways of a druid. There I curled up and wept. Wept for Krumarth. Wept for myself.

Wept for the death of another small but vital piece of what I had left of my orc heritage.

[Lampir]

I am back in the underdark once more. The journey was one of spontaneous courage, something I am becoming less and less allergic to these days. I hadn't seen Gruk for several weeks and it still plagued me that, between the time I had chosen him as someone to pass the time with and warm my furs and the time I had returned from my journey abroad, he had fallen into slavery under an insane drow witch. It was sheer luck that I learned of it at all.

That damned witch. No coin is enough, no. She had the malice to suggest first that I capture twelve slaves for her and, when I refused, she suggested I spawn twelve children for her! Oh yes, I have been polite in the city of the drow, but my rage boils against her. If she will not play fair, then neither will I.

He was wounded when I found him, his spirits were down and he was drowning the misery in a thick brew. I spoke what I could to ease his suffering, but if I cannot free him soon I fear I will have to kill him out of mercy. An orc, once broken, is dead to the world.

The witch is distracted right now, focused with an intense anger to stay by the cell of the traitorous drow I helped capture. That is a small blessing. First must go his collar. It is said to explode if too far from her home for too long a time or explode if tampered with. Then comes removing Gruk's brand which Krumarth says is a rune used for tracking him. Then, all that will be left is to see what Gruk will do once able to do as he wishes.

He speaks of starting a tribe, but tribes are such a fickle thing. We will see. First things first, to repay the debt I caused when I left.

I have had many offers or suggestions that I may be able to buy Gruk, but I am only so patient and then I will simply use my strength and the favors I have earned to take him by force. They are busy. The Alhoon, the traitor, the difficulty in getting slaves.

She would not be the first drow I have angered, but so be it. I who harness the blinding power of the sun. I who have collapsed whole tunnels. I who have earned the respect of the surfacers, the rivvel and many others. I am not afraid.

[Lampir]

Swive! Swive! What is he doing here? No no no… they just said they wanted a bard, not Herran, they said nothing about Herran. I can’t say anything.. I can’t tell anything… I’m no good at subterfuge, how do I help him??

Kaltyra frowned into her ale as her masked companions soothed the bard into complacency. She wanted to leave. Get up, walk away from the entire thing and let the chips fall where they may. But Gruk was without his collar and she could not dismiss an opportunity to free him like that. And Herran.. Herran was in trouble. Herran who had repeatedly come to her defense here on the surface.

What sort of chaos storm had she just walked in to?

She drank deeply and not for the first time felt jealous that she could no longer get drunk.

Kaltyra was going to help a drow raid.

She didn’t really want to. She’d promised nothing more than some guide-work. It was too risky to her status on the surface to get involved… but now she had to if she wanted to have a ghost’s chance of helping her friends. They were just faceless humans, yes? Amnians to boot. She’d been slaughtering Amnians for weeks during the big war. What was a few more? Stupid human morality would argue that, while killing Amnians was a righteous thing a month ago, it would be an evil thing now. Kaltyra mentally rolled her eyes at the little paladin in her head that recited this concept as she led the raiders into the mountains.

Human morality? Kaltyra had different priorities: first and foremost to get ahead. Then if resources were able, to help others in hopes they would help her later. And finally she liked to repay her debts.

She wasn’t sure why the raiding bothered her as much as it did. She was orc. Orcs were born to conquer, orcs were born to destroy. Here she was.. trying to protect. Did that make her human? No… a human would have sounded the alarm back in Nashkel, ruined the entire scenario. But that would have ended her chances of moving freely in the Underdark and she didn’t like that idea.

Swived if she did. Swived if she didn’t.

Her mind worked furiously to try and ilk out any idea as to how to save Herran. Gruk had passed out in Nashkel, which gave her one less person to worry about. She had finally settled on a plan that looked like this: “We will raid the camps and in the confusion I will grab Herran, hasten him, and tell him to run.” When Kaltyra’s enemy, Kar, arrived.

“Dosst will bow to me.” She snapped in her superior insane way.

The raiders just short of face-palmed as their lies collapsed in a single arrogant declaration.
They were near the refugee camps now. Kaltyra could smell the drifting stink of humans and campfires not far away. Too far from a city for Herran to run.. they cornered him and Kaltyra stood in shocked horror. Did she interrupt, did she try to threaten? Maybe negotiate her way? What? What? Think think!

“Stop!”

The power play didn’t go well. Kar and the others turned on her and between threats of killing Gruk, killing Herran and killing Kaltyra, the orcess found herself subdued and resigned. She couldn’t fight them all. She wouldn’t survive and she wasn’t a hero- at least not in the ‘get yourself killed whether it will work or not as long as you do the right thing’ kind of way.

She was stuck, Herran was doomed, and Gruk… well maybe he would be free if she shut up and did what they wanted.

More and more she cursed herself as they made their way up to the camp. They waited in ambush for a patrol when suddenly … Herran decided to be a hero.

If Kaltyra had had the energy, she would have face-palmed.

[Lampir]

“WATCH OUT! THERE ARE DROW HERE!” Herran screamed as the patrolman neared.

You know, I have long argued that humans have the common sense of a mayfly and I am thinking that this truth remains. What was he thinking, surrendering to them as a slave and then screaming like that? Of course it was too late. He and the patrolmen were slaughtered with a few stabs. Herran himself was hit with a dark magic I could not recognize.

That would prove to be very important later.

“We’ll take the body back.” One of the raiders hissed in irritation. “We’ll pick it up after we get the rivvel.”

I pleaded with them to show Herran some mercy – it was their fault they didn’t gag him – but they just pressed for me to continue my guiding. So what could I do? I pressed on. But I didn’t fight. I kept an eye out, I pointed out as I smelled people getting closer, but I did not fight.

Maybe they would wear themselves out and I would be able to take Herran from them.

I lingered back and tried to keep out of sight of the humans who were herded into a circle and sent, terrified, into the Sshamath slave pits by teleportation. If one should escape they would probably just say that ‘drow and an orc’ attacked which would be generic enough I would be alright… but what if they recognized me? I was not eager to risk it.

The raiders thought I was trying to escape and so they turned on me, trying to pin me from running.

“How can we trust you?” Asked their leader again.

“How can I trust you? I was not told the truth of what this was to be.” I retorted. “But you asked me to point and I am pointing. You are not even aware are you?”

“Aware of what?” She asked testily

“That there is another refugee camp just up that mountain road. A good two dozen or more.”

“We can’t afford the effort. We’ll come back later.”

“If you do, you will find them too well guarded for an assault.” I warned, hoping they would weaken themselves even further.

“Fine, but this time you will fight WITH us. I noticed that you didn’t fight.”

I snorted, caught and angry for it. “I can’t fight and track.”

“Bweal. Now you will fight.”

Great. I had managed to get myself into a bigger problem: I was getting more involved. This was the last thing I wanted, but what could I do? If I wanted to stay out of the slave pens I had best comply.

“Fine but I will not do it as myself.”

“I’m tired of riddles.” The leader replied testily.

I pulled my hood and scarf over my head. “I have a reputation up here.” My words as frosty as hers. With a word I took a demonic shape, the horned devil, and began to lead the charge upon another camp.

I felt dirty as I helped herd the next group of humans into their doom. I felt tainted for complying. I tried to lose myself in the dark thrill of killing, but even that was little help. I had to keep my wits about me if I was going to escape. … And especially if I was going to help Herran.

The leader turned to me as the deed was done and nodded. “You’ve kept your end of the bargain. I will keep mine.”

I only nodded, given that Kar was right there and the bargain had been, unknown to Kar, that effort would be made to free Gruk for me. I kept silent, a jump in my heart as they prepared their teleportation back into the underdark. I dared not speak, I dared not move in case I gave it away.

As they finally disappeared into a cloud of black magic I leapt into the air!

They had forgotten to grab Herran’s body.

Only, there was a problem. A large problem. Reinforcements.

A large contingent of Amnian soldiers was coming up the narrow mountain pass. There was no other easy way down. I was trapped and now without any help. I scanned the area and finally looked down… far far down the steep mountainside. I looked up and flexed my leathery wings.

I was not fond of this shape, but now I wished I had spent more time with it, learning how to use these wings. They felt weak and foreign, like when one is still learning how to walk. However, I didn’t exactly have time for that luxury, did I?

So I jumped.

And I fell, skid, tumbled and cursed my way down the mountain.

My spells absorbed much of the damage, and what bruises and cuts did get through the devil’s flesh began to knit back to health as I shook myself and ran back towards Herran’s body. I grabbed it and ran, trudged through the snow and ice and treacherous mountains until we reached safer ground. Then I set him down and conjured from a scroll to bring his frozen form back to life.

The magic hummed and faded. Herran was still dead.

Ilktlktk…

I found Gruk groggily trying to recover from his hangover in Nashkel and from there we pressed into the Temple of Helm. They were kind enough to me. I silently thanked Delphinn for his help in making me part of the Nashkel Trade Emporium. What a gift that had been.

Unfortunately, the magic that had killed him had an emphatic hold on his soul. The priest frowned as he studied the unseen veins of black magic. Ten thousand gold worth of diamonds?! It is a good thing I do not have much use for money. … and that I kept a blue diamond on me.

Between that and what I found from Herran’s corpse as he thawed out, ruining the holy rug he was laying on, we were able to supply the priest with what he needed. Wanting to be sure I did not upset my diplomatic relations here, I paid for a replacement rug too. It seemed what was expected of me.

But yes, Herran was wrestled free of the dark magic and brought back to life. He was alive… if only barely. His body was half frozen and blue, he coughed up gobs of dried blood and he could not see clearly. … but he was alive.

Gruk, trying to be helpful, splashed a bucket of cold water on Herran . The priest jumped back.

“I want that monster out of here at once!”

I offered a smile that said “Sorry, I’ll be sure to make a big donation to make up for that.”

Being a master of guilt he leveled a dark “I know you will.” look back.

Bah… a few thousand more gold. So be it.

Herran is recovering now. I fed him, warmed him, left him in the tender care of some simpering woman who was panicking about his feeble state. He knows nothing of what happened. He knows nothing of the betrayal… nothing at all.

And I don’t know what to tell him.

[Lampir]

I know this may sound like a strange problem, but there’s not a lot of good males around these days. I’ve been winding myself tighter and tighter: the betrayal of friends, the dangers of secrets I don’t even know, the offers of the Circle, the threats of others. Round and round I go and the anxiety is only building. Fighting has helped, some, but nothing seems to sate my writhing internal itch of discomfort.

Herran has demanded to know what it is that happened… and he has gone to the trouble of finding some source that claims to have followed our group to the camp site. I can’t afford him finding out. It was made very clear if he figured out what had really -really- happened that I might be held responsible. And besides, it would definitely mean Herran’s death.

So… I met with a few people and arranged for him to be taken as slave.

YES! YES I KNOW I’M COMPLETELY REVERSING EVERYTHING I DID!

And I feel awful for it. I feel like a traitor, but what can I do? He’ll figure it out either way. He’ll die either way. He’ll get me killed if he does it on his own. If I arrange it maybe I can save his life as a slave and protect my own life in the process.

SHUT UP! I REJECT YOUR JUDGEMENT! HE CHOSE THIS PATH! I TOLD HIM! I WARNED HIM! I ARGUED FOR HIM NOT TO LOOK! HE IGNORED ME!

And now… now I am going to betray him.

I hate my life right now.

I’ve tried to seek solace in a mate, but when I sought one, he was always drunk or too busy with things. He offered me a drink and told me to lighten up and enjoy myself. How can I enjoy myself?? I can’t even get drunk. If he’d been drunk someplace remotely private I probably wouldn’t have cared, just grabbed him then and there, but no – he was drunk in a drow feast hall! I’m not giving those bastards a show! ARAAAARRRRGGHH!!!!

The other I tried to corner actually pushed me away - like a real honest shove! It hurt – not because he wasn’t interested, but because it just reminded me how desperate I am. Pathetic, maybe, but damn if I’m not getting close to exploding.

Maybe I’ll go find some orc slave. Mindless things, so many of them, but I’m not looking for a life-mate either. Yet, somehow I think that would be as disgusting as mating with a corpse. What passion can broken souls produce but some shell of what one was in life? Probably wouldn’t help me either, especially since my woes are all over slavery.

Gruk is free. I earned it, they said. Didn’t even make me pay what was likely a very very expensive fee to the witch Kar. Somehow, ever since then, it’s seemed like I am unimportant to him. Instead it is about conquest, carving a place, adventure and finding ways to secure power and authority.

He doesn’t understand why I am so upset. No one does.

If I don’t figure out some way to find relief from all this strife and worry I’m going to do something very stupid.

Again.

[Lampir]

My pet woke me up. She always does when she wants something. It's nice enough: a soft voice, a warm ruffle and suddenly I am awake and aware again. She is constantly wanting food, or to find food, or otherwise interrupting my sleep with fight after fight with the other animals.

It was better when she had cubs. She left me alone, happy that I was watching over the cute things, and let me sleep - at least until the cubs decided to wake up and try to eat my ear or some other nonsense.

She has a strange male around that loves to bring me random bits of food he finds. It's always good food and I can't really complain at the strange affections. He's alright, as wild animals go, but he has another thought coming if he thinks I'm not watching him carefully.

Today my pet has led me into a hell hole. It brims with fire and reeks of ghosts even deeper down. She leaps into danger and I find myself scrambling to keep up and protect her as best I can.

She is such a handful!

We make it into some cool tunnel and I roll in the dirt to put out a fire in my hair. The relief after hours in burning heat feels so, so good. We hunt for food and eat our fill. She is partial to the little white mushrooms you can only find where sunlight is only a myth. I'm not convinced they're not poisonous, but she eats them just fine without getting sick. I find it hilarious she can stomach so many things but a simple boat-ride leaves her weak as a kitten.

It's kind of adorable really.

Up and down, down and up. You'd think she'd just stay down here, but inevitably it's up we go again. Sometimes the strange male is there, or another of her prospective mates, and that makes my job much simpler.

We finally come back to one of my caves and I lie down, letting her curl up against me. Her soft breathing, the flick of her ear or murmur as she dreams. I sometimes wake to watch her sleeping and smile to myself.

For all her trouble, for all her mischief, she's such a wonderful pet.

I chose my druid well.

[Lampir]

Her most prized possession is a rock.

As rocks go it seems fairly mundane. It doesn't shine or glitter. To our knowledge it contains no mineral or ore worth capturing. It is a simple dark gray affair worn smooth from years of rough orc fingers rubbing it for luck, advice or memories of home. The only remarkable thing about it is the hole that seems to have occurred naturally, through which sinew has been threaded and re-threaded to secure it as a token to her belt.

It hides in plain sight among feathers, other rocks, dried herbs and bits of bone and skull. To the unknowing eye it is just another little trinket, but for Kaltyra it is her most valuable possession.

Gold? Just shiny metal disks. Weapons? She has fangs and claws. Armor? Nature will shield her.

But that rock? That is priceless.

Stonetooth had never returned to teach the young runt Kaltyra of the ways of Grumbar. She had little to learn from and indeed her attempts would never reach fruition until she fled her home for the surface. However, that rock she had taken the cycle before her wedding. She had snuck out of the camp and up to one of her favorite hiding places. It would be only a few hours before she would be traded by her tribe for peace. She was angry at that moment, furious at her fate and her mother's final manipulation.

She had curled up in self pity at first. Then, as the rage wound round she let out a bellow. A single cry that carried all the sorrow, frustration and indignation of her failure. Failure to talk to Grumbar, failure to become accepted in her tribe, failure to find a way to kill her mother.

Life had been getting so much better! She hadn't been the lowest on the rung, she had been making progress. For what???

As her roar died from lack of air she slammed her fist into the cavern wall and sobbed for breath. When she regained it Kaltyra slammed her fist into the wall again. .. and again and again. Dimly she might have been aware that all this noise would bring warriors to find her and her hiding place, but her emotions were in control and she didn't care or know how to do anything else right then. She certainly hadn't considered the unstable roof above her.

As cave-ins go I'd love to tell you it was dramatic and terrifying, just the sort of action-thriller you've come to expect reading of her life. However this one was rather anti-climatic. There was a rumble and Kaltyra, high on adrenaline, leapt back. Only a few feet of stone gave way, right in the back of her little hole.

She stared at the pile of rubble for a while, expecting more but nothing came. In her addled mind it was as if Grumbar had been trying to claim her back. She sat there, letting logic slowly sober her emotional high until her eyes settled on The Rock.

It was rough, small with a strange apparently natural hole in it. It was as if the land was missing something – her maybe. Or maybe it was like her spirit, never to be whole after she left her home. Whatever the plethora of meanings it could or might have had, Kaltyra took it as a sign and made it hers. It has survived starvation, disease, terror, murder, the treacherous journey to Balder's Gate and her many adventures even since then. Even as she gave up her tribal name, even as she took this land as her own the rock remained. It is as much a holy symbol as any priest's.

There is no other rock like it.

[Lampir]

Kaltyra's Children

Kho'Gnok, son of Barnak

He stands about two feet tall and carries the coarse black hair of his father, Barnak. His hair is a scraggly haphazard mess only tamed by carefully braided dreadlocks. His face is a picture, even at this young age: light greenish gray like his mother but with blood red eyes that twinkle with mischievous defiance. Already his cheek and forehead bear the first scars of his life, marking him as rough and tumble.

When Kho'Gnok manages to wriggle out of his shirt, which is often, it can be seen that there is a white symbol painted or perhaps tattooed to his back. It appears to be an eight-pointed star with a halo around it - an abstract symbol of Mystra. No amount of scrubbing seems to remove the mark, but it's clearly made by mortal hands, not some divine sign.

Kho'Gnok (Kho for short) is a handful. Terrible twos are of course always a trial, but Kho adores rough-housing and doesn't care with who. Strong and resourceful, he often delights in killing rats or other small animals and eating then bones fur and all - a trait probably encouraged by his mother.

Instead of chiding Kho for his aggressive attitude, Kaltyra seems to instead redirect it by giving him stuffed animals (real animals, stuffed with straw, leaves, sand) such as dire badgers for him to chew and punch and wrestle with. Kho knows a limited vocabulary in orc and common because of Kaltyra's insistence on speaking both to him.


Uzik, daughter of Wirg

Uzik is another matter, about 8-10 months old. She has her mother's amber eyes but an almost pitch black skin, likely from her father Wirg. Uzik has no scars yet and is, by all accounts, very nearly like a human child so far - with one exception: Uzik doesn't really cry or fuss. Instead if she is hungry or needs a change she makes grunting, growling, angry noises and will crawl around until she finds something or someone who will feed her. Her mannerisms, especially her crawl and noises, are very much like a bear - possibly a result of her bonding with Kaltyra's patron animal and go-to babysitter Kile.

[Lampir]

Kaltyra didn’t really know what to say or do. It was embarrassing to admit she’d broken a promise to herself and allowed some vulnerability to creep in again. It wouldn’t work. She wasn’t sure why she’d lied so fervently to herself that it would. Hope, maybe? Hunger? A remnant of her insecure past as a female so unwanted she’d been tossed out of her own tribe as payment?

It was shame that kept her silent about what had evolved between her and Krumarth. Shame that sent her to weep alone at her folly. But she did not cry for long. Her children needed her. And, whether they would ever thank her for it, the Druidic Circle needed her too.

But for now at this dawn Kaltyra made her way back to her cave and curled up against Grubnar to sleep. Grubnar who was always there for her, because she had been there for him. Her one constant in years of strife and chaos. Her guardian. Her family. He was the only orc who could keep up with her line of deep contemplative thinking, despite outward appearances he had a wise mind and it had proven the very support she’d needed in many a time.

Barnak, Grah’Thok, Wirg, Gruk, Krumarth… the list of males who had failed her, abandoned her, dragged her through emotional hell was long. Sometimes she forgot the names of a few. Maybe they were right and she was a poison. Maybe he was right and she ‘happened’ to others.

It terrified her to even contemplate that one day Grubnar might be among her list of males who left her. It terrified her to think how close she’d gotten to him and how strange it was, their relationship.

Whenever it went wrong it was he she sought. Whenever it went right it was he she wanted to share it with first. They were everything. Everything, except, mates.

[Lampir]

After many years of learning the language and now painstakingly learning how to write in common, Kaltyra decides to carry a empty book with her for notes, letters and emergency kindling. It's good practice for her writing which is about at 6th grade writing level now.

{ Actual Journal Entry }

Kierran - A slave who fought for freedom. Now fights for what? I think against the demons of his past that chase him. Forged by an orc trainer, forged by the pits. Now in the soft niave lands of Balder's Gate. No wonder he feels he doesn't fit in. I like him though. Reminds me a little of Orcheart.

Valge - Not a half-elf. Friendly. Says Thayans might be involved in harming the Circle? Note: Elves are stupid. Celduil is stupid.

Izz - Returned. Desperately wants pie? Says the Zhent hide in plain sight. Plain sight... where?

Shur - Returned. Hyga says he is too wrapped up in webs of plots for his taste right now.

Hyga - Not BM. Deep Gnome. Not sure about him. He is not sure about me. I now have two sets of the Seeds. Can I trust his?

Laitae - Seemed like she wanted to talk. I wonder why.

[Lampir]

/// As Seen in Children of Mercy Roleplay Board ///


By every right he was a man at 13. He should be out, apprenticed to a master of the trade, but so far, Adam was still stuck running errands for the Mercy Orphanage. Probably wasn't a good time, he reasoned. Maryss was fussing over the pots of herbs and plants she and Meri had rescued from the deadly drought and if that was any indication, things were very busy for the local rangers and druids.

He'd caught a peek of some elven rangers recently, a rare treat, but they were busy teaching farmers how to shoot bows. Slow is steady and steady is fast, they'd said. Adam'd spent some time picturing himself with one of those rangers hovering over him, showing him how to draw back the bow ever just right and let loose an arrow.

His arrows would actually hit the target, Adam had thought wryly before hurrying off on his errand.

It was a shame, everyone seemed to have time… except for him. Sometimes it bothered him, but Adam was used to the orphanage and they needed him. The sisters said patience. Patience.

So it was that Adam rolled his eyes on returning from his delivery to the city. Lost in his self pity, his seething anger and conflicted emotions when..

… when a gaggle of half naked children covered in dried mud 'war paint' let out a war woop that sounded like gargled rocks and ran across the withered garden plot.

Followed by a tiny orc who snorted in glee, swinging a mangled dead squirrel in circles above him.

What the heck had happened while he was gone??

A shadow fell over Adam and he looked up to the familiar bulk of Arkaine HalfOrken. The knight had a haggard exhausted look about him and flicked a put-upon glance at the brigade of children as they ran again.

"Sir HalfOrken." Adam shifted to one side. "Is that?… Is he... yours?" He pointed towards the toddler orcling who had finally, with a tremendous leap, tackled a straggler to the ground. The pair laughed and wrestled sending up a cloud of dust.

"By Helm's Eye no." The paladin shook his head and rubbed his face.

"He's a full orc!" Piped up Riley who'd by now stopped to see what all the commotion was about. "We're at war with the ant people."

"Ant people?" Arkaine intoned with sudden concern until the boy held up a rock covered in squished insects. "Oh." The knight said flatly.

And so began yet another strange day at Mercy Orphanage.



………………………



Kho'Gnok was having the time of his life. He'd missed his playmates and while mom's bear and the big Grubnar were fun to wrestle he didn't have anyone his size to play and fight with. Imagine his delight at meeting all these new, soft pink orcs. Kho'Gnok immediately set to work making friends by punching the first boy he found - a youth of nine years called Riley.

The punch had staggered Riley who shouted "HEY!" in protest. Kho laughed and went to punch again but Riley jumped back, glaring at the two-year-old orc. "Stop it!"

But as the orc persisted, Riley had done the sensible responsible thing and called for the sisters to stop the fighting.

...

Just kidding he did what any boy would do: squared up his shoulders, spit to the side, balled up his fists and barked "Fine. Ye wanna tumble? Let's tumble."

About ten minutes later the Sisters shooed Riley off the orcling who blinked up at the light wide-eyed. His dreadlocks were white with dust as was half of his body where he'd been knocked down. Despite having gotten the snot beaten out of him and the promise of a bruise welling up on his face, the orcling grinned happily at the Sisters and asked "Food?" Because play time was all well and good but now he was hungry.

Riley earned a new devote follower and partner in crime that day.



……………..



Kho'Gnok scratched his back where the symbol of Mystra lay embedded in his skin. He didn't really know about it or what it was but it itched sometimes and made him hate wearing shirts. Everyone wore shirts, like good little boys.

This took some effort in explaining before it was accepted that Kho probably didn't understand a word of it and they had simply resorted to tying the shirt firmly on with string. But it itched and Kho was torn between eating lunch and chewing off the string again to escape.

Food won out, it usually did.

Across from him sat a an older girl, maybe eight or nine years old. She had been staring at him with bright green eyes for some time and finally, as Kho looked up, she spoke.

"You're an orc you know."

Kho paused from eating and nodded eagerly. Orc. He knew that word. "Orc" He said happily, spraying food he'd not yet swallowed in his laughter.

Amy squealed "Ewwww!" and wiped away the spittle that had sprayed her.

"Do I have orc cooties? Do orcs have cooties? Vera??"

The petite girl next to Amy obligingly gave Amy a 'cootie shot' via rituals from time immemorial, passed from child to child as ancient youth secrets.

Suitably inoculated, Amy again returned to watching Kho'Gnok eat. He wasn't well table mannered but was learning fast after several scoldings and loss of food from the Sisters.

"I hear that orcs are monsters and that you're going to get us all killed." She offers matter-of-factly.

No response.

"I hear orcs are going to have a big war with the elves and the elves are nice people so you must be a bad guy. I mean, how else can it work right? There's the good guys like us and then there's the bad guys, that's you."

Kho was staring at her so, with a newly rapt audience Amy plunged forward in her logic. "Good people do good things and bad people do bad things like hurt people or steal or lie. Good people follow the rules and don't spill their milk and I saw you spill your milk and you always break the rules so you must be a bad guy."

Kho, looked around and then back at Amy.

"And that means we have to smite you. That's what paladins do you know. They smite bad guys and the bad guys go away. So do you think I can smite you… since you're a bad guy?"

Kho blinked and scratched his back.

"Are you even listening to anything I say? … What are you staring at?"

The orc pointed at the left over crust of her sandwich. "Food?"

Amy's face scrunched up. "Well, ok but only if you let me smite you after lunch." She said, sliding over her plate.

[Lampir]

{Actual Journal Entry}

*This page has a folded piece of parchment, a flier from the Anti-Orc League*

HAH! Stupid pinkskins. What do they need a group for? Oh well, maybe this is a sign of what my time here has done, eh? I must frustrate many. That is fine. I have faced an army of drow slavers. Come try me! KOR' ACKA!

I do not need to fight, unless they try to take me alone. I am allowed, permitted, protected. But maybe this will provide some entertainment. My only regret was that I had hoped to move my children out from their safe house. They were never meant to live among humans for so long and I fear what it will do to their fighting spirit. I have scouted out some new homes for my children. I will wait to see what this new group does first. I am thinking ignoring them and letting them stew in beer and too many swords will be the best response.

But maybe I am not so stupid as to at least learn who is trying to create this group.

Brent- ** Once of the Red Field, has plans of being an Amn merchant? Maybe I should tell Delphinn.

Zeegan?- ** Has a mistress I think who runs with S and himself. More the brains of the organization.

[Lampir]

It had started in a strange way. For weeks Kaltyra had been fighting urges to talk to Grubnar about her strained emotions but she’d held back. What if the whole thing was just some petty thing to sooth her current strife with Krumarth? As much as she now yearned to tell Grubnar, she kept silent, because… well…

Because she was a failure with mates, a failure with males in general. Because she had an unspoken un-admitted deep and abiding affection for Grubnar and couldn’t bear losing him the way she had lost every other male in her life.

It was probably inevitable that it would slip, but not in the way she had expected. The pair had just finished talking with a warlock that confessed the uncontrolled ability to travel into people’s dreams. Kaltyra had made him swear to stay out of her mind, making a great to do about it. Grubnar had fallen quiet until some time later.

They were picking mushrooms in the underdark when Grubnar spoke up. “Why you no want to be looked at while sleeping?”

Kaltyra had looked up, frowning in confusion and then slowly realizing that he was talking about the dream hopping. “It’s unsettling to be stared at when you’re asleep. Like being watched by a predator.”

“Oh.. okay I will not do that anymore.”

The orcess paused, letting the unspoken statement sink in. “You… watch me in my sleep?”

“Yes but Grubnar not know it a bad thing.”

Kaltyra shifted uncomfortably “It’s okay… I trust you Grubnar. It’s different for you.”

“Oh? Grubnar is careful when the blankets fall off. Always look away.”

She grimaced and, unable to hold herself back any longer asked with an edge of defiance. “Why?”

It was Grubnar’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Grubnar not think he need to explain.”

“Maybe you do.”

“Priestess not mate.”

And there it was, the fact that had Kaltyra tossing at night and fretting during the day. They were not, had not ever been, mates but he had been there for nearly all of her torrid affairs over the years. It took her some time to gather herself before she said with depressed resolution. “Yes.”

Grubnar wasn’t good at Common, but he was extremely good at picking up emotions. He rose from his harvesting spot and knelt in front of Kaltyra. “That.. not what Priestess want?”

He waited until she looked up, eyes meeting. She flinched and looked back down.

“Maybe… maybe not.”

“What Priestess want, then?” Grubnar looked worried. It was the first sign of a shift in their dynamic and he wasn’t certain which way it would go.

Slowly, falteringly, Kaltyra confessed herself to her Guardian. Her thoughts, her discovery, her fears of hurting or losing him. Her uncertainty as to what these strange emotions were or how to even proceed with something that wasn’t as basic and familiar as the orc way of attracting a mate. She was fairly certain Grubnar wouldn’t care for beating her into submission and she wasn’t sure she would like that – not from him. And what if this was all just the next installment of her melodramatic life? What if he left her like all the rest?

And at some point, Grubnar took her in his arms saying simply in his fluent orc. “There was a time, once, when I left you. Do you remember? It was when you mated Wirg and he wanted the tribe to take slaves. I didn’t think I could stay with you, not with that tribe, that family. So… I went to Mother and asked for her advice. She sent me back to you. I learned I would always be at your side, however you needed me. … always.”

“But is it ok, for me to take time to figure this out?”

“Priestess take all the time she wants. Grubnar will still be here.”

Always.


…………………………………

It was a smell she’d not scented in a long time and it had arrived only days after the mushroom harvest. She’d recognized it with a knot of dread in her stomach.

Grah’Thok.

He stood some distance away in spiked armor stained a crimson so deep it was nearly black with a heavy hood covering all but his one good eye. That glowed a brilliant scarlet as it focused in on his old mate.

He wanted to talk, but despite her having bested him in battle before she was afraid. It was with relief she found Grubnar and brought him with her.

The conversation was actually fairly tame. Grah’Thok was amused Kaltyra thought he might attack her, even though she wouldn’t admit that was why she’d brought Grubnar. After they’d discussed things at length – plans, past, their current progress – Grah’Thok finally sighed and asked. “Can we speak alone over there?”

He pointed to the nearby cliffs, the same spot he and Kaltyra had spent months together, talking under the moon and stars, inventing the CliffShield tribe, enjoying the after glow of a long and difficult hunt.

It hurt her to go, but she nodded. He was a calmer orc than she remembered. Perhaps resolved, perhaps time had softened his edges. Perhaps he was drugged. Either way, there was a fleeting niggling suggestion that she might have made a mistake in dismissing him like she had so long ago.

If she had had no prospects for another male. If she had had no one to go to in the lonely times. If… she might have considered him as long term company.

But while they were not official, Kaltyra knew who she wanted to be with. So when Grah’Thok looked her over appreciatively and said “You know, there are times I wonder back then, if things had gone differently. How it might have worked out between you and I.” she knew her response.

“It would not be good, not for either of us Grah’Thok. We were not a good match.”

He had nodded, though not without a wistful scanning of her body one more time. “Perhaps. But I had to ask.”

They said their farewells and Kaltyra made her way back to Grubnar who sat patiently under the large stone where he’d watched from a long distance – just in case, she knew, something had happened.

“Grubnar knew that was what he would ask.” He had said later, when she’d shared the conversation. “But Grubnar knew must let Priestess make choice.”

She kissed his forehead tenderly and whispered. “I choose you, Grubnar.”



…………………………….


Kaltyra was beginning to think Grumbar was testing or perhaps punishing her. She’d been tracked down by yet another of her old mates. After months of him having simply disappeared suddenly there was Gruk hovering beside her.

He grinned and wanted to know more about the Black Orc tribe above. Eventually Kaltyra convinced him that she wouldn’t be joining in the warfare save in the effort to stop it from happening. This disappointed the warrior of Gruumsh, but he didn’t fight the female he called Chieftess.

Instead, he opted for the consolation prize by leaning over her, stroking her hair possessively and growling softly. “How about I visit your den later?”

It was a lusty instinctual call that sent goose bumps down Kaltyra’s spine. Her ears flattened in shock – was she really considering this? Sure, Gruk was a great romp and she’d had her share with him, but she couldn’t! She absolutely couldn’t!

“No.” She answered in a snarl half focused at herself.

“WHAT?!” Gruk roared in outrage and grabbed her arm. “You have another mate?!!”

“None of your business!” She tried to pull herself free but instead was slammed into the cavern wall.

“WHO IS IT?!?” He demanded, sniffing her body for the answer when she glared in silence. When the sniffing didn’t reveal anything but the usual smells of limestone, moss, bear fur and Grubnar, Gruk bellowed in rage, slamming his fist into the stone so hard it cut and bled his hand.

Kaltyra took the opportunity to scramble away, wreathing herself in magic to speed her retreat.

[Lampir]

Another peaceful day at the Mercy Orphanage.

It had been two weeks since the awkward visit by Doron Amar’s representatives. They had come with a few orphans they’d demanded be brought into their care years before. Apparently they hadn’t found homes for the little ones and with the war coming, the elves had brought their charges back to Mercy. This way they would be safe from the coming conflict with the orcs.

“I would hate for the orcs to lay a filthy hand on a single hair of our children’s head.” One of their escorts had explained to a rather nervous looking Sister June.

“Oh yes!” she’d chuckled “That would be awful. Don’t you worry none, they’ll be safe and sound here.”

That had been weeks ago. Now, Kho’Gnok was chasing the considerably older elven children around with glee at every opportunity.

“An orc an orc! Don’t let it eat you!” The poor children would scream in shrill terror as Kho loped along behind them, cornering them behind chairs, ambushing then around the stairwell, weaving around the legs of the Sisters until he’d be tied to the time-out chair.

Man, he hadn’t had this much fun since the girls had decided he had cooties and kept running away from him and the other boys! What luck!

As the latest chaos died into the quiet prelude to the next chaos, Kaltyra sat in the attic of the orphanage, feeding Uzik. Because this didn’t take much effort, she was busy mentally wandering over her list of things she needed to do.

With the war coming she would need to be certain she had plenty of supplies lined up. She wouldn’t be going out as often to hunt or gather, now that she knew there were elven children at the orphanage. Elves, fresh from the battlefield, might come to check up on their charges only to find her children. … and what they would do when they found out… and if they would be stopped in time by the guards… this made Kaltyra nervous.

One elf had already thrown fireballs at the Chapterhouse for goodness sake and the war wasn’t even in action yet!

She would want to keep a much much closer eye on things – leaving only rarely and certainly not for days on end like she had before. Druidic restlessness or not, she had to make this her home for a time.

The attic was hung with her latest effort: the heavy skins of wolves and bears being cut and fitted to make new fur cloaks for the children come winter. Kaltyra wasn’t the best seamstress, but this was hardly rocket science either.
What more could she do? She was an orc hiding among humans, furious at the events unfolding. Her body ached for release – to find someone to blame and rip them to merciless shreds, to fight until exhaustion or victory caused her to collapse. She was fresh, rested, well fed and eager for war – but who to fight?

Fight the orcs? But they hadn’t started it, they’d even tried to be diplomatic with the kidnapping and the treaty.

Fight the elves? But they were just frightened war-crazed idiots who couldn’t diplomacy their way out of a paper bag.

Kaltyra suspected, but had never been able to prove, that someone was driving the orcs – trying to distract and weaken the elves. Even though she’d warned the elves of this they were too frightened of the orcs, too hateful, to see the deception. It was very strange to be wiser than an entire village of elves… to be the wrong shape and therefore lacking all credibility.

A druid, able to shift shape at will but unable to take the shape that would make them listen to her. It felt so unfair to her. She could turn into a tree for Deepness’ sake! But not an elf… not someone they would ever listen too. … and so they would fall right into the trap.

Sure she’d expected the orcs to fall into the deception with ease, but the elves? Weren’t they supposed to be enlightened? And here she was, feebly unable to give the elves any more information. Unable to find and prove who was being The Fear. Unable to stop what was coming.

….

Uzik made an angry protesting noise and bit down hard on her mother’s nipple, sharply yanking Kaltyra out of her thoughts. She’d been progressively pushing Uzik harder and harder into her chest, almost suffocating her own daughter in her dark thoughts. Quickly Kaltyra let Uzik push herself free and crawl off in protest.

The orcess frowned, watching her youngest child waddle around, settle on her favorite chew-toy from Grubnar and begin teething on it. She sighed, nodding to herself. She’d made the decision to raise her children. She must stick with it and protect them. That was her purpose in this battle.

If she could bring things to peace faster, then that too would be a purpose… but only after keeping her children safe.

She looked to her armor, to the shoulder that gleamed with a thin patina of strange crystalline growth. It spelled out a word, a symbol she didn’t know. The earth-heart had said it was Terran for “Friend”. Was that perhaps the most poignant term for what she was now? Defender… fighter… mother… friend.

It would soon be time to learn.

[Lampir]

Only once before had I taken the lead in a relationship. I'd pressed my charms to Krumarth thinking to remind him of his orcen heritage, but instead it had been like mating with a dead log. It had been the most awkward, uncomfortable exchange and the relationship had been just as unsatisfying. He would just stare at me in silence for hours - but give him some arcane harlot and he'd talk to her so fast it was hard to keep up. So I had ended it - to much yelling and insults by Krumarth. It was perhaps the most passion I'd seen in him, but it only hardened my heart further.

................

I didn't realize how much Krumarth had hurt me until I tried to be with Grubnar. Every time I would think to touch or kiss or even talk about it I would feel a strike of pain in my chest - deep and fearful. I could hear Krumarth's angry voice and see his pointing finger as he accused me of forcing and taking advantage of him.

Was I going to hurt Grubnar? Would he leave me in anger?

I touched my hand, the scar Grubnar and I shared, letting the other words chase Krumarth's away. "I will always be at your side, however you need me. Always."

And it was a chase, always a chase - especially when things would get closer to topics of passion. It hurt, it made me tremble, it made me hesitate and even draw away at times.

These are not the actions of an orc, I worry I am gone for good from that realm. What orc simpers or even gives credence to an weak males' stupid accusations. Krumarth should have been on his knees groveling and begging for even one more kiss.

....

You know, I can't remember when we started sharing the same pile of furs. It was probably shortly after the trouble with Grah'Thok, when winter came and my son Kho'Gnok needed extra attention. All four of us: Kile, me, Grubnar and Kho'Gnok bundled up and huddled against the cold. Great piles of fermenting leaves keeping the cave far warmer than outside.

He had always been a friend, a guardian. After over two years I wasn't sure what to do.

But I had not considered: neither did he.

"Priestess make Grubnar very happy. But Grubnar sees many mates, not ever see orc mates. Not know how to be good good."

I'd been so wrapped up in my fear I'd forgotten his own. We would both have to let this happen slowly, when we were -both- ready. It wasn't that I knew the answer to help him. Techniques, sure, but what would that do but make him more self conscious? Still... under all that he was a living breathing male. He knew how, even if he didn't know logically. I put a hand over his heart and mimicked one of his own sayings.

"This is what matters. Follow this, and it will always be good good."


........................




"There!" I shouted, pointing to a dark shape moving lazily in the sea shallows.

Grubnar grabbed at the thing which suddenly turned into a writhing lashing monster trying desperately to escape. Grubnar began to lose his footing in the shifting sands and I yelled, grabbing on and finding just enough purchase on a rock to pull us both upright and towards the beach.

"A shark!" I laughed "Quick bash it good"

A quick blow from Grubnar's fist finished the fish once and for all.

I fell over laughing as Grubnar looked at me strangely. "What funny?"

"Just your look as it almost took you under it was.. priceless!"

He tilted his head, offering a small smile probably only because I was happy, and then turned to consider the luckless shark.

The clouds that had threatened rain all day finally began to pour out in earnest with a rumble of ominous thunder, but we paid it no mind. Rain, especially after the long drought, was a good thing.

As time waned my laughter ebbed and I saw Grubnar reaching into the shark's mouth. Strange, I thought, and watched as he finally pulled free something and offered it to me - only this couldn't have come from the shark, could it? It glittered in a flash of lightning, this brilliant gem, making it look full of star-fire in his hand.

"For you." He said, setting it into my hand.

I am a sucker for pretty rocks, probably some Grumbarite trait. "Ah! So pretty!" I exclaimed happily, turning it in the night. "You got this out of the shark??"

"Eh..." Grubnar looked down as if ashamed. "No... Just thought it would be nice way to give."

I looked up from the gem, realizing how much thought and planning must have gone into this moment and laughed - but a different, more delighted, laugh. I don't know if Grubnar understood the difference, but he probably knew right afterwards as I gave him quite a passionate kiss.

There was surprised hesitation on his part and I started to lean away, thinking maybe I'd gone too far, but he simply leaned forward, following me and unwilling to let something so exquisite end so soon.

I know, I know. You are probably thinking "As many times as she has been with males, this should not feel so special." But it did; it was strange and frightening and exciting and mysterious.

We parted and I looked up at the rain while we both caught our breaths. Between sea and rain we were both soaked - but the cave was not far off. I glanced to Grubnar and could see a very familiar longing in his eyes. This only stirred me to want to grab him then and there on the beach. But no.. that wouldn't fit, wouldn't be right for him and I. Instead I gestured to the cave and suggested. "Maybe we should uh... set our clothes to dry."

Grubnar was up in a flash, holding his hand out to me. I took it, rising. With me in one hand, and a shark in the other, Grubnar made his way to the cave.

It was the first time he didn't look away when I stripped down... It was the first time... for many things for us. I wasn't simply pinned down or beaten into submission. But neither was it like the awkward passionless time I'd spent with Krumarth.

It was worth every ounce of worry, worth every ounce of heart pain in the finding and seeking. I feel so very different than I have ever felt with a mate. More than happy. More than physically content.


The only thing I can think of now to call it... was soul satisfying.


This is by far the best thing that has ever happened for me.