Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.8T)
Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.
It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.
Here is the first post from this series.
<>
The warrens held by the Hand of Death were full of signs of prosperity. Banners showing the skeletal hand hung from sturdy stone walls and strong holds fronting every large cavern. These banners were clean and well kept, not at all frayed. Busy forges turned out weapons and armour made of steel. Retaak counted over twenty ogre Bulls as he followed his guide. He knew well how much food one of his kind must consume to gain the extra mass required to trigger the metamorphosis to Bull; he could not think of a surer sign of strength in a warband.
“Who’s this, who’s this?” a massive Bull stepped into their path, challenging Retaak’s guide.
“He is Retaak Wildborn,” said the young warrior. Eyes darted toward them, Wildborn were rarely welcome. “He shed blood with us against the Bloody Axes, and has won passage through our territory. He killed a Bull.”
“What?” The Bull pushed past the young warrior, towering over Retaak. A fully grown Bull was as large to Retaak as he was to an orc. Sometime he wondered what it would be like to have that kind of strength, but Wildborn Ogres never became Bulls, it was impossible to get that much food in the wild.
The Bull looked Retaak up and down. Retaak stood still, but did not lower his eyes. It was a foolish show of defiance, but he just couldn’t bring himself to show deference like this. His meeting with Ushochhushi had taken his last measure of tact for the day, it seemed.
“You don’t look like much, Wildborn,” said the Bull. “How did you kill a Bull?”
Retaak, his anger still simmering, smiled. He looked around at the spawn watching them, all bearing the sign of the Hand of Death, pausing just long enough so that they all seemed to lean in to hear his words.
“I killed a Bull of the Bloody Axe, not a Bull of the Hand of Death,” said Retaak.
The Bull’s brow furrowed and then he burst out laughing. The rest of the orcs, goblins, and ogres nearby did as well. Several of them muttering ‘Bloody Axe’ and spitting on the ground.
“Welcome, Retaak!” said the Bull, clapping him on the shoulder before returning to his post.
The young warrior stepped quicker after that, realizing the escorting a Wildborn was potentially explosive.
<>
As they passed one of the forges, a coat of plates caught Retaak’s eye. Steel with articulated plates was the best protection most spawn could hope for, but what really drew Retaak’s gaze was the red enameling. He loved Red and always sought out red clothing.
“Come, we are almost there,” said the young warrior, and Retaak shook himself from his reverie and followed.
As he turned, he caught a movement in the corner of his eye, but when he turned nothing was out of place and all he saw were Hand of Death, going about their business.
<>
Hours later they were through hand of Death territory and much deeper in the warrens. After clasping hands with the young warrior, Retaak took to the shadows and waited. He knew someone was following him. Retaak calmed his breathing and clung to the rock, trying to move as little as possible, in the hopes of surprising the person following him.
Things did not go as planned as he heard sound nearby and turned, only to see a crossbow pointed at him
“Uyage,” he said.
“Retaak.” she answered.
<>
