Order of the Spear

The Other Side of the Spear

When none were looking...

It was late in the spring, but the snow fell in a thin and continuous blanket. The quartet of ogren made their way to a new pile of boulders near the humans’ pitiful wall. The lesser races may be daunted by the man-made barrier, but for these it was merely a hurdle.
Once beyond the wall, the four fell into a steady rhythm covering vast distances in the dark of night. While they ran, visions of the Great Council ran through their heads. The chieftains of all the greater tribes of goblinkind had gathered to discuss the possibility of war with the human kingdom of Aynemer.
The typical bickering and shouting had sprung up beneath the massive Bedouin tent and indeed continued until a single being walked within their midst – a human! Not just any man would be able to walk into the midst of the largest gathering of goblinkin since the Hordes War. He strode with an impressive bearing. Crossed on his back were an impressive set of matching weapons as black as the night. A greatblade and greatclub were fashioned of an unknown ore. Once within their midst, he began speaking to them in a calm voice with the expectation that they would listen – and they did. He paced slowly back and forth among the chieftains as he told them of the war they would wage on the other side of the wall – and they nodded. He spoke of tactics and drew in the sand at their feet and when he’d finished they cheered and howled into the evening sky.
From the crowd, four massive ogren walked into the open and knelt at the feet of the man, their blades out hilt first in the traditional gesture of loyalty. The man stepped forward and slid the nearest blades free and whirled them in an impressive display before settling them on the ogre’s neck.
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The crowd was silent as the man spoke Orcish as with a native tongue, "I accept your life as my own, for it is my own. I further accept your offer to lead the assault and spearhead this army. Your orders are to immediately gather your gear and run into the night, over the wall, past a ruined city and up a rocky rise to a town the humans call ‘Ralspur.’ There you will unleash the bloodlust in your soul and slaughter the defenses of the region within the Watch Command. "
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Draja smelled the air as he ran. This side of the wall smelled all wrong. The humans had weak scents that matched their strength. He felt contempt for their puny race. The spittle froze on his mouth and on his massive tusks while he ran. He had muffled his metal items and strapped his more than seven-foot ogre blade to his back.
He ran point for the quartet of half-ogres. His sense of smell and ability to track was renowned among his Black Elk tribe. Flexing the corded muscles in his arms kept his hands from freezing closed.
Something ahead was amiss. He slowed his great strides to a lope and surveyed the shallow ravine they’d entered. At the deepest point there was a trail in the snow crossing their path. He slowed further and drew deeply of the cold air. ‘Humans’, he thought to himself.
The eldest of the ogres slowed behind Draja. He gave the signal to stop and the remaining two, Gorth (massive by even ogre standards) and Tevaga (a vicious female known by the size of her axe) ground to a halt.
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He waited for Draja’s findings (5 humans and 6 horses – good eating) and after only a moment’s hesitation, steered the team along the trail in the snow…

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Sir_Anton

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