Akeno

It was a surprisingly nerve-wracking experience to have Shamar look over her work, running her practiced eye over the pelts she had scrapped, salted, washed and combed to see if she had done anything wrong. She had spent the better part of an afternoon on this, after all, and had the cuts and scrapes and muscle ache to show for it.

Akeno knew her work wouldn’t be perfect, not on the first try, and maybe that would be enough for the hunter to try and scam her; to say that her effort was inadequate and to give her nothing in return. All she could do was hope that the other Orc was fair and that her work met her standards. A good job her meant a reward, though it had never been stated what that would be, but it would also mean opportunities for more work in the future. Tanning wasn’t exactly pleasant work and it wasn’t something Akeno particularly wanted to get involved it, but having something she was trusted to do and a person who trusted her to do it would mean getting her foot into a door, any door, within the tribe.

So it was a relief when Shamar seemed satisfied with the pelts. The older Orc left to get something from her hut and returned a moment later with a vest that she had made from buckskin; a light defense boost, as well as an actual piece of clothing to cover herself with. Orc seemed pretty resilient to the elements, all things considered, but that didn’t make walking around bare-chested any less unpleasant. “Thank you.”

Putting it on and adjusting the size in the way Shamar indicated, Akeno felt a strange sense of accomplishment as she put the vest on; it was something that she had earned with her own hard work, something she hadn’t had this morning when she found herself with nothing in a strange world with no concern for her. The vest was tangible proof that she had managed to do… something since then.

But, it wasn’t shelter and it wasn’t safety. Akeno still had no place to sleep tonight and was no closer to getting one, despite having fewer hours left in the day than she did at the start of this.

“Do you hunt all of these animals yourself?” Looking around the area surrounding Shamar’s hut, there were a lot of pelts and animal carcasses around. A lot for one person to have killed by themselves, even if they made it their profession. Did people bring their kills to her, to be skinned and gutted and made into something useful, or did she do all of this by herself?

“How does a runt usually get their own shelter when they first leave the brood pit? And what happens to the ones that don’t?”

@Zeroth

Grunthor took note of the wounds on the spider. Scabbed over, healing, it'd have to molt before it was actually healed. Not that the pair of rambunctious orclings would let it get to that stage. Hopefully anyway. His blow took out a leg, the Unnamed took out one, and the third leg was from a previous fight. So five legs left, its mobility should be pretty hampered by now.

The giant spider struck back, the feet had little claws for 'toes', which punctured his skin but it was just aiming to push him away. A second blow busted another bone spike on his club and took a chunk out of the wood. For a non-tarantual type it was pretty strong. Unnamed shot another blast of magic at the spider and got another hit which made the spider turn as if to flee. But instead it began to spit webbing from its abdomen.

Grunthor launched his club with a spin at the webbing blanket to catch it and send it back to the spider or to just made a big mess of the webbing. If that worked he'd get to his feet and attack it with his pointed stick, trying to bludgeon its legs with Rapid Strikes using the more slender piece of wood that they all started with.

---

@ERode

---

Given that the Harpy and Tatzelwurm were both carnivorous creatures, their intestines were somewhere between four and eight times the length of their bodies once unfurled. They were small, granted, only about as big around as one of Esfir's fingers or perhaps the thumb at best--but given the viscera of both creatures she had left over, along with what remained of the Tatzelwurm's meat that she couldn't eat in a single sitting, the old-at-heart orcling found enough material to make an unexpectedly large number of sausages in the natural casings. Working with a different pair of hands that weren't quite as skilled and weathered as before, there were a few mishaps here and there...but the few lengths of intestine that got shredded could just as easily be stuffed in with the rest of the fillings.

Once she had twisted them into links of about six inches per sausage, or close enough to a hand's length, they started to look like actual processed meat instead of strips of raw game and bloodied organs.

By the time she slung the long meat-chains over her shoulders and headed for the fires, she had roughly 60 Very Thin Sausages--half of them made with Tatzelwurm, and the other half with Harpy. They were roughly the size of round beef jerky sticks. When cooked, they shrank down a bit as the outer casing darkened. Sizzling, fatty grease sometimes dribbled from their ends, along with hissing steam as the ground up innards congealed and browned...

By the time Esfir finished cooking her test batch and looked up, it seemed like several other Orcs--both Adults and the younger Grunts--had gathered around the particular fire pit she'd been using.

"Oi, Runt, where'd ya get dem sassy-gees?!" said one with a warrior's build, as he wiped drool from the corner of his mouth. "I ain't had none since wot we last raided dem pinkies on da udda side of da forest!"

"Wot dey got in 'em?" asked another as he sniffed the smoke coming from the fire--almost getting close enough to singe his own nosehairs. "Dey don't smell like pigs or cows like the ones humans make..."

"Ey, Runt, ova'ere!" Another jumped up and down to be visible above the others' heads. "I'll trade ya dis noice stick I found for a handful of 'em! I was gonna make an axe out of it--it's real solid-like!"

"Don't gibs dat mukh nuttin!" shouted another who pushed the first. "Gimme 'alf ov'em, an' I'll gibs ya a real knoife! Made o' metal an everyting!"

"Oi, who said yer could push me, ya muddafuggin--" A meaty smack followed by a grunt echoed, but it wasn't certain among the throng who had hit who first. But other offers were thrown Esfir's way--and a few of the bigger, nastier looking adults stepped closer surreptitiously...

---

@King Cosmos

---

"Yep!" Shamar puffed out her chest with a grin as Akeno inquired about her kills. "I gots a couple traplines out ta the lake, and I goes huntin' afore sunrise and after sunset both!" Then she snorted, and spat over her shoulder onto the ground. "Course, summa dese gits trades me to do it for 'em, but too many of 'em tinks all I want is what's between their fat legs!" She chuckled darkly. "I did cut one off, mindja, but I didn't keep it." Then a louder laugh. "Worked better fer catchin' fish than any worm!"

When Akeno next asked about shelter, Shamar shrugged and popped her neck to one side.

"Ya gotta find it or build it, don'tcha? If'n ya don't, den I reckon ya sleep cold. Oh, and ya ain't got nowhere to store ya stuff." A thought seemed to occur to the head hunter at that moment, however, and she looked at Akeno more seriously.

"Lookie 'ere, Runt. We's all Orcs 'ere, right? It's us against da whole damn world! So, makes sense dat we ain't allowed to kill each other, right?" She gestured towards the rest of the camp around them, and the raucous behavior of their tribemates. "Anudda tribe, dat's one ting. Defendin' yaself, dat's anudda ting. And even fightin' and wrasslin, dat's just natural, yeah?" She wagged her finger like a children's teacher--which, technically, she was at this point. "But, if you ain't got nowhere to keep ya stuff--you leave summin' on da ground, anywhere inside da camp--then dere ain't no way to keep it. The only time you gets ta kill anudda orc..." Shamar's fingers idly readjusted themselves on her knife.

"...is if he crosses yer territory, and lays hands on yer stuff, wivvout yer say-so. Cause we all needs our tools, our weapons, our food, and so's on, to survive out here. If you've tried to protect it as best ya can, an' they violet...violent...voliates dat--" She spat again and ignored her verbal slip, "Den it's yer call what to do with 'em."

Again, she shrugged.

"Course, if'n ya can get in and out of someorc's tent wivvout bein' seen, can't nobody stop ya from takin' whatever ya want. An' if someone invites ya in, and den ya swipe summin, then they only gots themselves ta blame unless they finds out quick enuff." She shook her head, then turned back towards her work. "Even if someone's outta the camp, most orcs will respect a shelter. And some orcs are awful quick to call anudda one out if dey see 'em bein' a sneakthief."

Before she disappeared around the other side of the yurt, however, she threw Akeno a knowing wink.

"But sometimes, bein' a sneakthief is downright useful, yeah?"

And then the orcling, wearing her fresh vest, was left to her own devices.

---

---

---

@Kazemitsu

---

The impact of Grunthor's spinning club hitting the web caused it to wrap itself much like a self-closing net. Luckily, the only thing it had captured was the weapon and a few rocks on the ground--however, while the club was coated in the sticky substance, Grunthor wouldn't be able to grab it without trapping himself as well!

"My MP's dry!" shouted the unnamed Runt as both of them closed in on their wounded opponent. Using the antler-bone hilted knife he'd taken from the camp, the greasy haired orc took a running start and leaped at the spider's back! The creature hissed and began kicking its remaining rear legs, but as the runt sank his blade into it and pulled, he was able to climb out of their limited range of motion.

Grunthor, having made it to a standing position once more, used his Sharpened Wooden Stick in conjunction with his original Skill! The three swift blows managed to land on one leg in two different places--at the very least, his aim was good enough to catch it in motion! However, the force of hitting the spider's hard exoskeleton multiple times was enough to crack his stick--It likely wouldn't last past another hit!

Despite this, however, he'd put a crack in this leg too below its last joint, and the spider couldn't put weight on it as it tried to scuttle along the wall!

Then its butt let out a gross squelch again, and Grunthor was knocked backwards by a gooey wad that was more liquid than thread. As it covered his chest he slammed into the ground--but he'd need to get up carefully! Any wayward move might allow the substance to stick him in place...

Nonetheless, the spider roared in pain! With so many injured legs, and its other attacker climbing up onto its back to stab it over and over, it could only do one thing--throw itself backwards.

There was a loud THUD as the big body landed on the cave's rocky floor. The greasy runt disappeared beneath its bulk...but underneath the spider's head, blue fluid began to seep onto the rocks. Its legs and manibles thrashed madly for a few seconds...and then, like a hydraulic system shutting down, began to slowly close in on themselves...

Currently, neither orcs nor spiders were moving...The cave grew eeriely silent...

---

---

---

@ReusableSword

---

As the sound of Agar's missed step died away, the Tatzelwurm soon put its head down and seemed to be napping. Again relying on his new Muffle Skill, he quickly made his way to the mushroom patch. In addition to the Red Cream and the Turtleshell, the System notified him of the name of the pointy-capped, rust-colored stems: He'd obtained 3 Liver Stalks.

However, upon turning to check his surroundings again and choose which direction to go next, a streak of color that seemed entirely wrong for this environment caught his eye!

At the edge of this pocket of forest, hiding between the shadows of tree roots and keeping close to the trunks, was a wolf. However, rather than black or grey, this creature had a pelt that was mostly brown towards its belly and feet, but lightened to a dirty blonde wheat color on most of its upper body. The hair running down its neck and back was long and stood stiffly; its tail was like a fluffy bushel of millet.

The creature looked quite skinny, and its eyes glimmered with a desperate hunger. A dark red tongue licked its chops as it fixed that ravenous gaze on its prey...

Luckily, that prey was not Agar. The orc runt was in the shadow of his own tree, in the dark patch where the mushrooms grew, and his own skin color melded with the environment much better than this beasts's did. Instead, the sleeping Tatzelwurm was the object of the wolf's stare, and as Agar watched the beast crept closer, one slow padfall after another...

Would he risk drawing attention to himself? Would he try to distract the monsters somehow, or just let them fight, and try to use that opportunity to slip away? Or maybe, like he'd done with the Harpy before, to try and take out the weaker of the two? The wolf looked weakened...but it was also the second largest monster Agar had seen in these woods, after the horned alligator.

Esfir watched as offers turned into violence, the orcs squabbling over who was first in line. There was a time, perhaps, where she’d be magnanimous. She couldn’t eat 60 alone, after all, and what was cooked would only grow worse when left for the next day. Sharing fostered a sense of community, and communal ties were the bonds that kept them all above the surface.

Perhaps if she were fifty years younger.

Instead? Esfir took one of the juicier sausages, one sizzling with extra globules of fat, the casing on the verge of cracking and popping, and jammed it right in the mouth of the Runt that had managed to squeeze themselves between the clashing titans and was making some inane offer about giving a penis-shaped mushroom. As they chewed on reflex, the old-souled Runt focused on her core just a bit, trying to envision that strange energy feeding out of her and mixing with her emotions, her gaze. If her Intent towards that Tatzelwurm had been an explosive burst, this one was just a trickle, enough so that her voice had an edge to it, one that demanded attention and forced a pause in the action.

“Oi, break it up, you! While you’re slapping each other ‘round, the sausages are going away!”

She made a show real quick, taking a bite of a Tatzelwurm Sausage for herself. It was heavy in flavor, even if the flavour wasn’t anything that could be described as meaty. No sugar, no salt, no spices would do that. But it was sausage all the same, a miracle that transformed organs and blood and other undesirables into something edible and filling.

“I need to eat too, so I won’t be giving them all away, but look at these things. Big, strong orcs like you could eat them all and still be hungry!” Especially when they all wanted it. “So here. All of you can have some as a taste, and if you like it? Bring me a big beast with big guts. The bigger the better. A pot of water too. Gotta boil it up real proper.”

She was already cooking the next batch, spreading the links out over the flames.

“And I’ll make sausage for you boys, ones as big as my arms, so long as I get my share of the meat.”

Her gaze settled on the Runts that came over. Compared to grown orcs, whatever they brought over could not compare, but their hands were smaller, their minds more pliable.

“You bunch can get some too too, if you do what I tell you to.”



@Zeroth

The flying club did what he wanted, catching the net made of, most likely, sticky webbing. He'd retrieve it later, for now he had to keep moving and attacking. The other orc runt ran out of mp and blitzed the slowed spider, latching onto its abdomen and began shanking it. Said spider was bucking and flailing its back legs to attempt to dislodge the Runt from its back.

Both of Grunthor's weapons had taken damage, one more so than the other. He'd have to examine the club to make a new one, spikes or not spikes. A simple hefty bludgeon was better than a pointed stick for durability and damage. Before he could either discard his sharp stick or stab the spider he got nailed in the chest by a glob of goopy webbing. Probably just the raw material. But it stuck to him, which means it'd stick to other things, like the ground.

It seemed panicked, but who knew with arachnids, and a last ditch effort to get Unnamed off it threw itself backwards. After that everything got quiet as it stopped moving, aside from slowly doing the arachnid death ball pose. Carefully getting to his feet he tried using his Sharp Rock to scrape the goop off his chest. "You alright under there?" He questioned as he gave the spider a kick to test if it was truly dead.

Akeno

Earlier that day Akeno had asked one of the other runts, another reincarnated human like herself, whether they should return to the camp at all. It hadn’t been a serious query really, she hadn’t seriously been planning on running into the forest with no plan, Akeno had just wanted to see what the other Orc would say; but the idea hadn’t come from nowhere. It had crossed her mind if staying the Orc tribe, who they knew nothing about both in term of who they were individuals and what they were like as a culture, might not be more dangerous than taking their chances.

Those thoughts came up again now, as she listened to the way Shamar describe, rather solemnly, the kind of people she was now expected to share a camp with. It was… discouraged that they steal from each other or kill each other, unless they could get away with it. From the sounds of it, everyone was going to try and get away with it.

She was expected to protect her own possessions or else they would be taken; the feeling she got from Shamar was that if she didn’t do a good enough job most would see it as her own fault if she was robbed. Shelter would be respected, most of the time, but she had no shelter and no idea how to get one. Build it herself was the most likely answer, but she had no carpentry skills to speak of and no materials or tools even if she did. Even making a tent was beyond her means in both categories as well.

Which all meant that she was basically back where she had started earlier, only with aching hands and something worth stealing on her back.

Akeno turned away from Shamar’s hut and walked back towards the centre of camp. Might as well see if anything had changed while she was gone.

@Zeroth

Agar

// Something smells >> A new foe or maybe a friend? //

The mushrooms were easy enough to get too and the cat snake thing wasn’t any wiser to him being as close as he was to it. This led to his assumption that the mud was indeed hiding his scent and blending him in to the environment combined with the muffle skill was adequately effective at hiding him from most of the local critters when they were not actively searching for him.

After slowly picking the last of the mushroom’s movement to his immediate left made him freeze and tense. A strange coloration he had not seen before made itself known to him. A strange colored wolf about the same size of the wolves he knew from home stalked around the edge of the tree line. He could see its gaze fixated on the cat. It didn’t look like the wolf was injured but it was hungry, so much he could tell by how its skin clung to its bones. Perhaps it was like the wolves back home, they worked better in a pack to bring down larger prey.

This one might have gotten itself kicked out of the pack or it was a solitary hunter and just had poor luck. Either way it would be nice to have a friend he could rely on again, the sudden flash of an old memory of his hunting dog Kevin. A black lab who was always up for a hunting trip, a loyal friend. It was a possibility at least until he tried. He wasn’t as naive to think that the harpy meat he had in his pouch would be enough to gain the trust of the creature but depending on how this upcoming fight between the two animals went he could very well at least try.

Until then he could at least make an attempt to prepare himself for the possibility that the wolf just attacks him outright. So, he slowly reached into his pouch and withdrew the small gland of dried Tatzelwurm powder. With the addition of some saliva, he mixed the dried powder onto the end of his wooden spear slowly coating it with his free hand onto the sharpened tip being sure to wipe his hand off slowly on the grass next to him and resumed a ready position so he would be ready to move if he had too.

---

@Zeroth

---

@ERode

---

The idea of "free samples" was apparently too sophisticated for the Orcs. Adults and Runts alike began grabbing as many sausages as they could in both hands, some of them even yelping as they burned themselves or poked themselves on the sharp end of Esfir's skewers. The two already fighting were joined by another pair.

The noise began to attract others, however, and some poked their curious noses as close as they could get without singing them and began pestering Esfir as she cooked.

"How ya makin' dem!?"

"What's in it?"

"Wot's dey taste loik!?"

While fending off their questions and hands that got a little too eager with her fire-blackened stick, Esfir soon proved much more matronly than orcs twice her age and size. With the Runts she was a little more gentle, whispering conspiratorially to a few of them.

"Runts gotta watch out for each other, yeah? It's a big orc's world out there!" But to the others showing off their greed, she barked more loudly. “Won't be teaching, but if you wanna watch, bring your kills here tomorrow and I’ll make something out of them. I’ll take my cut, you’d get the rest. Make it big kill though. Tatzelwurm n Harpy are too small for a meaty sausage." Several of the adult orcs shared looks among themselves, and there were several nods and grunts of assent. They weren't sure exactly how this Runt had learned how to make these things or why she spoke with such a bossy attitude, but she'd obviously proven she was capable of making good food that the rest of them didn't have access to. The idea of having someone else gut and cook their kills appealed to the more lazy ones, and trading for food seemed fair to some of the more meritorious warriors. But not all of them looked happy at being scolded by what was, by their standards, a mere child.

"Ha! All ya gots t'do is put 'em on a fiyah!" said one of the taller adults. Avoiding Esfir's stick and the open flames, he instead grabbed the long links of raw sausages--taking almost two dozen of them for himself! "There's lots o' fiyahs roun' heah!"

Then he turned to run, only to run smack into the muscled chest of an equally tall, yet meaner looking orc.

"Ah--Cah, capt'n XolkUUGH!?"

Whoever this "Captain Xol-something" was, the other orc didn't get the name out in time to stop the heavy fist from crashing into his jaw. It was a hard hit. The sausage thief's eyes rolled back into his eyes, and his arms stuck out stiff as boards as he fell forward and slightly to one side. The captain grabbed the sausages from his victim's limp fingers, then walked towards Esfir. After meeting eyes with her and simply observing for the space of a long, baited breath, he handed her back the victuals and crossed his arms.

"Whatcher playin' at, Runt?" he growled. "You wantin' to sell and barter these things? Or get food fer yaself without huntin' it?"

You've Cooked a Meal: Grilled Tatzel-Wurst!
Consumed: 2 Servings, Grilled Tatzel-Wurst (x10)!
This meal has been prepared in such a way that its nutritional value has increased! One or more servings of this meal were of higher quality than Average!
Activate [Ingestion: Tatzelwurm] (Y/N)? Approximate Ingestion: 35% > Boost! 95%!
Warning: This will ERASE current Ingestion!
Current Ingestion: [Pimpleshroom 10%]
Ingestible Skills [Pimpleshroom]: Further Progress Required.
Detected Ingestible Skills from [Tatzelwurm]!

• [Slash]
• [Poison Attack]
• [Muffle]

You are Well Fed. Your HP and SP recovery rates are temporarily boosted.
Quest Option: Meals 3/3 Fulfilled!

---

@King Cosmos

---

Akeno would see that the camp still bustled here and there with activity even as afternoon was starting to wear on. The Runt she knew as Esfir seemed to have started some kind of barbecue frenzy, which had attracted one of the adult orcs she'd seen accompanying the Warchief--presumably one of his body guards or direct subordinates. At least one orc had been laid out by a heavy punch, and a few others had stopped mid-squabble to stare at the Warchief's minion as he now stood over Esfir with his arms crossed.

The Shaman had finished whatever business she'd been at before, and now sat in a wooden chair simply looking around at the camp. She had that expression on her face universally associated with an elderly person in rural society, sitting on one's front porch in a squeaky rocker. When she caught Akeno's eye, the old she-orc half-smiled, one worn-down tusk peeking over her lips.

The Warchief's dwelling now had smoke coming from the large chamber under the main house, and the other body guard had a more relaxed posture as he stood at the foot of the stairs. She couldn't see exactly what the leader of the tribe was doing, but the smell of cooking meat was in the air. It might've been coming from Esfir's little project, or from any of the cookfires around the area, but of course the leader of this chaotic tribe would have to eat too at some point.

It seemed Builge and his two lackeys had left the farming orc alone for the moment. They were now wandering the camp, harassing any other target unlucky enough to bump into them.

The aforementioned farming orc was still digging by hand, either sewing seeds or building little heaps of fertilizer around them.

Aside from this, Akeno could also see that there were more Runts in the camp than before, though they somehow stood out less than the various orclings she'd been running around with earlier in the day...

---

---

---

@Kazemitsu

---

Though Grunthor was able to get up without getting himself stuck to anything, using his Sharp Rock to scrape the spider goo made the primitive weapon too sticky and thickly coated in the congealing substance to continue using it. He had to swing his hand back and forth to get it to come off at all, and with a splat it now stuck to the ground. Maybe once it dried the goop could be cracked or burned off, but as of now he'd basically lost all of his weapons except for his own fists.

When he kicked the spider, it let out one final fart accompanied by another spurt of raw web-fluid. Then, a groan emanated from beneath its hairy, chitinous bulk. The spider twitched as the Runt beneath it started to work his way out--he was bleeding from a small gash on his head caused by scraping against the rocks, but other than that only looked bruised and winded.

"I'm alive, and as--cough--as far as EXP is con--hungh--concerned that's all that counts, baby!" The unnamned runt managed to work himself from side to side until everything above his waist was freed from the spider. He raised an eyebrow at Grunthor. "Are you planning to try and drag this sonnuvabitch back to the camp? We might have to chop--"

He stopped. His eyes went from side to side. His ears twitched. One hand groped the ground--but that knife of his was gone, likely still lodged in the back of the spider's skull.

"We aren't getting a system notice." he said in a grim tone. "We're still in combat range!"

But the darkness of the cave around them--for the torch had fallen on the ground somewhere, and was starting to sputter--remained eeriely silent. From where they stood, they could just barely see the corpse of a nearby orc. He wore animal hides and was thickly muscled, definitely an adult, but he was also most certainly dead. It looked--and smelled--like something had slashed his belly open. Clutched in his hand was a rust-specked sword with a chipped blade...But what lay beyond him was clad in total blackness...

---

---

---

@ReusableSword

---

As Agar stayed hidden, applying the Tatzel Venom to his weapon and observing his potential prey--or predator--neither of the other two creatures took notice of him.

The wolf-like beast crept closer, and closer still, to the sleeping Tatzelwurm. When the snake-like creature twitched, the canine lowered its belly to the ground, ears flat. The Tatzelwurm settled in again, and again the wolf advanced.

Just as the beast came within a lunge-and-a-half's distance, the Tatzelwurm opened its eyes. Had it heard? Had it felt? It sensed something, and the predator sensed that its prey had detected it! The wolf lunged!

The Tatzelwurm coiled itself, rotating its entire body towards the direction of disturbance! The beast's paws hit the ground again--the Tatzelwurm hissed a warning, fangs spread, but too late, for the predator had momentum--and both creatures snarled!

The wolf's jaws came down on the snake-cat's midsection. The reptile lashed out with its claws at the beast's snout. Red blood flew and bone crunched! The tatzelwurm yowled and spat. The canine shook its shaggy head. A snaketail lashed like a leather whip, and the serpent's fangs snapped shut an inch from the other monster's ear! Those brown jaws shook again then released, only for the teeth to come down somewhere else. The tatzelwurm dodged solely by virtue of its wild thrashing--again, its claws found purchase, shaving a chunk of fur and flesh from the hound's shoulder! But the wolf pounced on it, halting its tail with one huge paw! Again the tatzelwum lunged, aiming those poisonous fangs at the other beast's chest. They snapped shut--and so did the wolf's jaws, on the back of the cat-snake's neck. Both bore down with snarls and yowls and yelps and howls.

Another crack and snap, and all was still. It had all happened in less than a minute. The tatzelwurm had only a mouthful of that thick, wheat-and-earth-colored fur. It had bitten down too soon. The wolf, however, had accomplished its task.

It shook the body again, even tossed it. Playing, or just making sure the enemy was dead? Then it bit into the creature's tail, and began yanking and pulling to separate the flesh, snapping its teeth against those bristly scales...

Esfir took her sausages back. If the adult orc had run with it, she wasn’t going to stop him. She couldn’t really. Her legs were simply too short to catch up. But that wasn’t anything to be mad about either. If it came down to it, revenge could be a very long thing. And the forest already had plenty of poisons available.

On the other hand, killing a fellow Orc without understanding the laws governing this place would be a dangerous thing too, and for that, she nodded at the Captain Xol-something. It didn’t feel appropriate to smile here, but in return for the raw sausage links, she rolled one of the freshly cooked ones off away from the flames, before grasping one and offering it to the Captain in return. It didn’t escape her, that upon his arrival, the rest of the orcs quieted down and made space.

He wasn’t a Warchief, but he occupied that same area of power, compared to the rest of the adult orcs. Smaller than Kougaut, yet undoubtedly just as strong, so that meant that he was fast too, deadly. She licked her lips.

“I’m bartering my sausages. And I’m selling my sausage-making skills as well.”

Esfir met the Captain’s gaze, but only just. She wasn't certain how much of him was a predator and how much of him was a warrior yet. She didn't know how he reacted to eye contact.

“But I’ll be hunting for my own food regardless. Didn’t make a spear just to use it as a walking stick.”



@Zeroth

Akeno

The camp was abuzz with activity when she approached from the outskirts; things apparently getting a lot more hectic as more and more of the runts came back from their hunts. The centre of the activity seemed to be Esfir; the young Orc with the air of a much older person who had all but disappeared once they had reached the caves. Whatever she had been up too back then, it seemed she had made her way back to camp too and had set up some kind of barbeque so she could start handing out cooked food.

The older woman was leveraging her knowledge from her past life from the looks of it; preparing and cooking food that the Orcs here had probably never seem or experienced before in order to set up a little business for herself, a niche within the group. You bring her meat, she turns it into sausages. Would it work? Maybe, but given the conversation she had just had with Shamar it seemed likely that Esfir would need to be ready to defend anything she managed to create for herself; either from people who just wanted to take what she had, people who were jealous, or people who looked down on a ‘runt’ who thought they could make something of themselves.

Things were already getting kind of violent around there.

The free food was tempting, nonetheless, but rather than risk the crowd Akeno decided to wait for things to calm down a bit and hope that there was still something left. When she did, maybe she’d share what little she had learned of how things worked in the tribe with the other Orc; the older woman probably knew enough to take care of herself, but it couldn’t hurt to give a friendly warning.

Other than that, things around camp were mostly the same as before. The farmer had gotten back to his work, the bullies were harassing anyone that caught their eye and the shaman had settled down in a chair. She still had no intention of going anywhere near the chief or those associated with him and still didn’t know anything about farming. Perhaps she could go and hunt something to trade with Esfir, assuming she hadn’t been robbed blind by then, or perhaps she should talk to the shaman and see if there was anything she had that needed doing. Akeno had seen her send another runt off on an errand earlier.

In fact, wouldn’t the shaman, who also looked like she filled the role of tribal elder, be more in tune with the goings on around camp than anyone else? Other than the chief at least. I mean, if she was in the habit of sitting around camp and watching the camp like she was now, then if nothing else she probably saw more of what was happening than most. It might be worth talking to her just to find out if anything significant was happening or had happened recently.

Come to think of it, what did a shaman actually do? Akeno knew that back home shamans were typically spiritual leaders or sorts, those who dealt with spirits and who handled ceremonial stuff in certain cultures; the same was probably true here as well, but what kind of spirituality did the Orcs have? What kind of rites and ceremonies did they observe? Or was the shaman more like a folk-healer, or a midwife? A storyteller? A historian?

Curiosity pulled her towards the old woman in the chair. As she approached, the shaman caught her eye and gave her a half-smile, which was probably good enough as far as invitations went. “I’m curious. When you’re not watching us all act like idiots”, starting off with humour may not be the best idea, but the words slipped out, “What is it that you do? For the tribe.”

@Zeroth

Agar

// A new foe or maybe a friend? >> time to fuck around and find out //

Agar watched the fight carefully play out before him. This wasn’t like before with the harpy, he could tell by the wolves’ movements that it was still strong despite its weakened appearance. The cat fought back admirably but still succumbed to the greater strength of the dog. It even played with it a little before really getting down and eating it.

Agar knew from his past experience with wolves that solitary hunters were typically weaker than larger groups. More mouths to feed but with teamwork they could bring down larger prey. One can expect a lone wolf to be that way because they are looking for a mate, the unlikely event that they got separated from their pack, or their pack was destroyed. Who knows what else could be the reason in this strange world.

Taking a moment to check his escape route behind him, the orc runt decided on what he wanted to do. Carefully with slow deliberation he stood from his hidden position. Angling himself so his left leg and shoulder were pointed towards the wolf. Keeping his spear pointed towards it gripped in both hands giving him stability and the ability to thrust the spear forward if he had too. He took this stance for its defensive ability but generally just like dealing with wild dogs it was a way to say “im not here to fight but will defend myself.”

He gave away his presence with a sharp whistle, locking eyes with the wolf when it looked at him. If they were like wolves and not bears it shouldn’t take this as a challenge Agar knew he would soon find out if this was the case at all. After a few tense moments he reached into his pouch and tossed about two pounds of grilled harpy meat out towards the wolf then resumed his defensive position.

---

@Zeroth

The spiders only reaction to the kick was to pass some gas and release a bit more webbing slop. He couldn't help but snicker, yes fart jokes were forever a thing and he had never heard a spider fart before. Still he was now defenseless, well...weaponless, because everything was covered in webbing. The Unnamed Runt began to wiggle out from under the spider, Grunthor helped drag him out.

"No I'm not planning to drag this back. It'd take too long and would leave us vulnerable." He stated before blinking. Combat range? That meant a monster was still around and potentially eying them. Unknown began groping around for the knife. "It's still in the spiders head." Grunthor said as he went for the torch and picked it up. He raised it up high to try and get more light.

He didn't care about the orc corpse, he cared what might be lurking in the dark ahead since it was clear back towards the entrance. "We need fuel for the torch..." He muttered. With no sense of modesty he used his loincloth to wrap around the torch to make it burn longer and potentially brighter.

---

@ERode

---

The orc captain raised an eyebrow as he listened to the Runt. Then he looked out over the throng of other brutes still vying for the cooked victuals.

"Good, then." he growled to Esfir, taking the sausage she offered and holding it between his lips like it was a cigar. Despite talking out of the side of his mouth, he boomed his voice across the crowd.

"C'mon ya buncha mukhs, git lined up! Keep tings bidness like over here or I'll club ya worse'n I did that 'un!" He pointed at the orc still laid out cold by his punch. "It's us Orcs against da world! Don't fight over scraps like a buncha dogs!"

There was still plenty of pushing and shoving and cutting in line, but the little fire pit soon looked more like a proper breadline. Flipping his sausage over his tusks and chomping it down, the captain gave Esfir a nod of appreciation.

"Youse still a liddle'un, but dat's how ya get tings done around here--hand out da beatings all liberal-like! So make sure ya eat and fight enough to get big and strong, Runt, like ol' Xolkug here!"

QUEST DETAILS HAVE BEEN ALTERED!
Quest Details: Fulfill Duties within the Tribe (3/2 Minimum!)

• ALTERATION: Accept an Optional Quest from another Tribe Member
  • Get Ore for Bowbh
  • Orcs Against The World - You have raised the Orc Tribe's understanding of [Food Preparation]. This unmarked quest will be counted towards your progress.

Though she'd given her Harpy Meat to the blacksmith, preparing the sausages had made use of what would normally be enough scrap and offal to provide another meal. All that was left to fulfill on this Quest, according to her System, was to find her own shelter and then be at Head Warrior Auguz's Training Circle before sunrise the next day. Given the behavior she'd just seen before Xolkug enforced brutal order, not having a shelter might mean waking up without any belongings the next day...

---

@King Cosmos

---

The dusky, earth-toned orc woman scratched at the ochre-yellow facepaint covering her wrinkly, leather-faced skull as Akeno approached her. When the orc Runt spoke up, the half-smile broke into a full grin, which of course was missing several yellowed teeth.

"On gud day? Nuffin!" She answered Akeno with a cackle. After a moment she made a wheezing sound, then leaned forward in her seat. Her expression sobered.

"Yambagorn has no letters, youngling, but she reads many tings. Read da clouds and da winds. Read an orc's soul in his eyes and his hands." She stared at Akeno meaningfully. "When da Dwarves drove us out of da old home, Yambagorn read da stars to find dis place." Her gnarled staff tapped the stone beneath their feet. Then she leaned back until her crooked spine straightened out against the rock wall of her cave and sighed, closing her eyes.

"And Yambagorn remembers tings. Remembers da old chief, aye, and da chief before him, and the one before dat. Remembers da ancestors dat have gone into the earth, the knowings of the shamans before me. The makings of tings from da shrooms and da herbs. When it is needed, I remind all youse childrens of dese tings."

When she opened her eyes again, they were once more playful as she picked her round nose with a pinky finger.

"Or, did da youngling just want all Yambagorn's gossip? Keh heh heh!" Again her laugh turned to a wheeze. "Since ya's too scared to go near da Warchief, did ya want to know about his raiding plans? Or how to replace his bodyguards and captains?" Her nose-picking was apparently quite productive, and she scraped the juicy result against the cave wall. "Or are ya wantin' to know where the strongest critters be, for hunting and feasting? Where da Orc's enemies are? How to do magic?" She snorted through the same nostril she'd just cleared, and tapped her staff on the ground again.

"Ask yer questions, Akeno. Yambagorn gives what answers she has."

---

---

---

@Kazemitsu

---

As Grunthor...refueled...the torch, the grunt who'd never been asked his name managed to sit down and use both feet to leg-press the spider's head enough to turn it. With a cracking sound he managed to loosen his knife from the thing's exoskeleton and stood up, still breathing hard.

"I don't have enough MP left for anymore spells, but if it's another spider we can't turn our backs and run---the webs'll get us." He turned towards Grunthor, who now held the renewed torch aloft. "We shou---Whoa, man, nice." He whistled through the side of his mouth while raising one hand. "I like ya cut, G--"

Before any slappage could take place, something in the darkness beyond the orc's corpse hissed. The torch's light had indeed revealed something.



Its body was perhaps six feet in height from tarsus-tip to the end of its antennae, but from the antennae to the tip of the stinger was probably eight feet in length. Its outer mandibles were wide enough to close down on either side of an adult Orc's head, and its long arms had reach equal to its own height yet folded in three joints. The creature recoiled from the light, sank one of its scythe-like forearms into the dead orc's legs, and started to drag the body back into the darkness...

---

---

---

@ReusableSword

---

Even before Agar whistled, his movement into the open space caused the wolf-like creature to suddenly go still, just as it was tearing a piece from the Tatzelwurm with its teeth. It turned towards him as the shrill sound broke the forest's silence, and growled as it exposed its bloodied fangs.

Staring intently at a wolf was indeed a form of challenge, but given the distance between them and the fact that Agar had announced his presence, it seemed that at the moment both of them were willing to let the stalemate lie. Still holding onto its kill, the other creature slowly began moving to one side, keeping its body low and its eyes on Agar...

When he pitched the Harpy meat over the grass, the wolf jumped back with another growl. But then its nose twitched, and its movement halted. For several moments...nothing.

Then the creature took an easy step towards the meat. Its body was still oriented in the other direction---if Agar made any sudden moves, it would most certainly bolt. But, if the orcling did nothing...closer and closer it came. Keeping its eyes on him, it would lower its head closer to the meat...then, in a blink, it let go of the Tatzelwurm and snapped up one piece of the grilled Harpy. Like a starving dog it tore at the meat, barely chewing before swallowing.

But it only ate what it could tear off in a single bite, then grabbed its kill and backed away again while giving off a low rumbling sound in its throat---not quite an open growl, but a warning nonetheless. It backed into the brush, trying to hide itself despite its coat's mismatched coloration...but seemed almost reluctant to leave...

A monopoly, or at least a superiority, in violence.

That sounded like an appropriate resource to develop then. Esfir, certainly, couldn't lay out an adult orc with a singular punch the same way that Xolkug did, and if she had used a weapon, that would have escalated the situation too. Fisticuffs were an expression of aggression; a blade drawn lead to a certainty of death.

As the last of the sausage disappeared, she wiped her hands of grease and fat by scrubbing it against the dirt, before tossing the charred stick she had been using as a utensil into the flames. The orcs that had gathered were gone at this point, their stomachs not satisfied but their taste buds happy, and it was now truly dipping towards the evening. All that remained was a shelter, and Esfir scampered off to get one set up. Looking towards the sky, it didn't appear as if it would rain, so she settled for a quick concept. Taking her hatchet, the runt headed off to the copse of dead wood around the camp, cutting off longer branches to serve as a simply frame for a shelter that would be just large enough to sit down in. The Harpy's wing membranes that she had kept were stretched out over the A-frame made from the branches, then secured in place by a combination of the remaining Mycellium lashes and the more pliable roots that she dug out from the earth. Maybe tomorrow, she'll spend the time to harvest leafier branches from the nearby forest to better help with rain-proofing and insulating the shelter, but it'll have to do for now. A lightweight shelter that was mostly just good for windbreaking would be fine.

And as for the matter of security...

Esfir looked at what remained in her bag. She had taken all she could from her kills at the start, mostly under the presumption of waste-not-want-not, but now, a lot of it just appeared to be...unusable. That was good though. There were some things that could be cared for, and others that could be treated as disposable. The rocks she had were kept for Bowbh, and she still figured that there was something useful to be garnered from the more 'unique' parts of the beasts she slew, but those cracked claws and horns? The talons? She could find more mushrooms in the future, and those rotleaves didn't look like they were an uncommon occurrence either. So instead, the Runt laid out all the mish-mash of sharp animal parts she had and used a stick to crush the rotberries and mushroom bits together into a paste. Carefully, she wiped that paste upon the broken claws and points, then scattered them around the entrance of her shelter, before throwing a dusting of dirt over top to hide it.

It would be easy enough to cross if one took an abnormally long step into the open entrance of her tent, but who would do that, unless they knew of the 'caltrops' she had laid in front? And her own shelter was separated far away enough from the others that one would have to intentionally walk towards it in order to step upon the caltrops to begin with.

At least, that was the hope.

...she wasn't going to think about the off-chance of someone walking up to her shelter because they wanted to go talk to her.



@Zeroth

Akeno

The old shaman was willing to entertain her question, giving Akeno enough of an answer to satisfy her curiosity and then some. Like she had thought, the role of shaman was varied and covered areas generally related to preserving knowledge and being more educated that the rest of the tribe. Yambagorn was a historian with maybe a hint of the religious added to it; she remembered the tribe’s history, passed down from past shaman through oral accounts, and its prominent members. There was probably some level of ancestor worship involved and the shaman was probably the one in charge of performing last rites, assuming the Orcs had any.

She was also an apothecary or herbalist; making things, most likely medicine, from mushrooms and plants. But it was the part about reading things that stood out to her; was reading the stars a literal thing or was it figurative? Or maybe both? Did the read the stars to navigate and lead them to a place she already knew about, or was she a fortune teller who felt that this was a good place for the tribe to settle? As for reading an Orc’s soul?

The look the shaman gave her then was too pointed not to mean something, but Akeno didn’t want to give anything away by reacting, so she didn’t. Or tried not to anyway. It was probably best to assume that Yambagorn knew about the whole resurrection thing, though what that meant for Akeno she didn’t know.

The look passed and took some of the tension out of the air with it. Yambagorn offered her information then, a taunting edge to her voice as she offered to tell Akeno where the best hunting spots were, where the Orcs enemies lived and… hell, did she really just offer to help her usurp a position of, presumably, some importance in the tribe? Or to tell her the chief’s future plans? It seemed strange that the shaman would conspire so easily and openly against her leader, assuming Akeno could actually do anything of note with that information. Which, come to think of it, was probably why; a runt like her wouldn’t be able to do anything against the chief and it would be amusing to see her try.

She was getting a clearer picture of the way Orcs thought.

Actually, more importantly than that, did Yambagorn offer to teach her magic? Akeno already knew that skills were a thing; video game like abilities that gave her a buff when she did a certain thing, or which let her conjure and throw a fireball. Was that magic? Probably not, since she wasn’t certain that non-resurrected Orcs could absorb the skills of the stuff they ate like she could and wasn’t about to tip her hand if they couldn’t. If they could, then that would be included in asking where the strongest prey was. So, no, magic was probably different or separate from skills.

Akeno turned more fully towards the shaman; any affected air of nonchalance dropped now that it was clear Yambagorn wasn’t going to fall for it. “Is there anyone in the tribe at the moment who is looking for an apprentice, or to teach their trade?”

Asking about magic was tempting and she would likely approach the shaman again in the future for that, but right now her main priority was still finding shelter, food and stability within the tribe now that she was considered something of an independent. Orcs didn’t seem to go in for family all that much and Akeno frankly lacked the knowledge to go it alone, so seeking out something like an apprenticeship to tie herself to someone in the tribe seemed like the best bet at the moment.

@Zeroth

Grunthor kept the torch up high as he looked around slowly. "I wasn't big on studying but spiders are a solitary thing...unless breeding you won't find two in the same web..." He said before the hissing sound came. This time a different insect, that was significantly larger than both runts.

It shied away from the light but took the orc corpse and went back to the darkness. "Yeah, no....we're so leaving. We're both tapped out for a bit." He stated before snagging the knife from the other runt. "But I need something to give to the guards to get in..." He muttered. Spiders were like crabs, jointed legs that connected with another joint to the main body.

Wedging the tip in he cut the connecting tissue and meat to detach the legs one at a time. He kicked off the detached legs while keeping the torch up out of his way and to keep whatever the fuck that giant bug was at bay hopefully. "You grab some and I'll grab some so we can keep the knife and torch out." He stated, handing the knife back to him.

He scooped four legs up and onto his shoulder with a grunt. It felt a bit heavy but he had lifted similar weight as a human kid. His orc body was more robust than that thankfully.

Agar

// time to fuck around and find out >> heading home //

Agar watched the beast closely, with a steady breath and firm grip on his spear. The silence of the forest around them was deafening, the only sounds being his racing heartbeat and the low grumble from the wolf. His instincts were screaming at him to run yet he held his ground against his bestial instincts. This was an opportunity not only to feel alive but a chance to continue to forge his own path in this world.

He watched the beast closely and carefully as it approached his offering, it was being just as cautious as he was. In an instant it devoured the harpy meat then back off back into the brush. It was then that Agar realized what was happening to the creature. Why it was having such a hard time in its environment, “you’re an ambush predator, you’re not eating because your birth mark gives you away.” He spoke softly out loud to himself.

He pondered for a moment the issues that would bring the beast and came to the conclusion he had just made, an outcast similar to what he was in this orc tribe. This was a creature he wished to befriend even if it would take him a while to do so. “One day we will be friends, I am Agar, and I will call you…” hmm right it needed a name, but which one? His wife was always better at naming things than him. “You will share the name with my first dog, a mastiff about the same size as you… Exodus.” He didn’t know why he was speaking out loud, but it felt right.

“I will find you again.” was the last thing he spoke as he whistled again a quick high-pitched note to a low one. Then slowly without turning his back to the beast, walked back into the forest. It was getting dark, and he still had mushrooms to find and get back to camp. It was going to be a cold night with nowhere to sleep. Maybe he could sleep next to one of the fires or something. He looked back towards the clearing once more then proceeded back into the forest.

---

@Zeroth

---

@ERode

---

You've attempted to Craft several items!
Used Flint Hatchet to gather Dry Wood!
Materials: Dry Wood + Mycellium Lash x2 + Frayed Mycellium Lash x2 + Harpy Wing Membrane x2
Process: Handicraft

...
You've created [Primitive A-Frame Shelter]!

Used Wooden Stick to mix Materials!
Materials: Rotleaves x5, Rotleaf Seedpods x6, Pimplestool Mushroom x2, Crushed Pimplestool, Mushroom Shreds x3
Process: Handicraft - Rot-Shroom Paste + Broken Jackalope Point x2 + Cracked Tatzelwurm Fang x1 + Cracked Tatzelwurm Claws x2 + Broken Harpy Talon x1

...
You've created [Poisoned Bone Caltrops]!
Small Thrown Weapon/Trap - These bony, unevenly shaped shards have been coated with a poisonous mixture. If stepped on hard enough they'll likely break skin, delivering poison that causes a painful reaction in the nervous system as it spreads. If ingested or inhaled, can cause severe coughing or digestive distress.

Quest Detail: [Find Shelter] Optional Objective, Completed!

As Esfir settled in for the night, time would of course continue to pass. It was likely that other Runts, like the ones she'd teamed up with earlier this morning, might still be doing...whatever they needed to do, to survive. But as she watched the sun set in the west, and some of the orc fires dim, she would see an entirely new sky of stars--complete with their own nebulae visible from the surface of the planet, even!--that made no sense to her as of yet, compared to the familiar constellations of Earth.

But alas, sleep would come soon.

---

Esfir, When/If Next Morning

---

Regardless of how well Esfir would be able to sleep in this new world--especially if someone or something ended up interrupting her--morning would eventually come regardless.

When it did, she would awaken to a sight not entirely unlike what she'd fallen asleep to; the adult orcs were still gathering around cookfires, though many of them had smoldered out overnight and were now being sparked back to life. Other tasks, such as sharpening spears, patrolling the camp's borders, and forcibly conscripting the Grunts into hunting parties also occupied the snaggle toothed brutes all over the primitive settlement.

Esfir would be able to see other Runts--perhaps including some of the ones like her--all heading in the same general direction, sometimes followed by jeers and laughter from their elders and betters. If the foggy memories before her release from the Brood Pit were any indication, Head Warrior Auguz's Training Circle was somewhere near the center of the camp. The light was still twilight blue, but not for long--and she'd been told to be there before sunrise...

---

@King Cosmos

---

"Oh, aye." Yambagorn nodded, working her mouth in the way of elders who have few teeth left. "Meself, for one. Yamabagorn's last 'prentice, a foolish ting. Didn't make it, poor gul." She shook her wrinkly head, causing the many bone talismans she wore to jingle. "Shamar, Head Hunter, need more orcs too. Too many males tried her patience--or just dun respect 'er, so dey don't follow. Not enough hands to tan hides or lay traps. Less meat and leather to go 'roun'." The shaman's eyes lingered on Akeno's vest appreciatively. "If'n ye did a task already, den she prolly take a shine to ye. Den dere's Bowbh."

The shaman's voice lowered a bit.

"Ain't been right since he returned, dat one. Nuttin' wrong wif 'im, mind, but he ain't like udda orcs no more. Mayhaps you undastan' 'im betta den da rest of us, eh?" The old orc looked towards the distant blacksmith's hut, where smoke still billowed into the air and the distant dull thud of a hammer still rang out. "Can't no udda orc in da tribe craft like 'im. And most don't 'preciate gud crafts--dey dun realize, yet, dat our stones and sticks are only good for da little critters in da woods."

With that she leaned back against her cave wall again, and fixed Akeno with her searching eyes.

"Uddawise, it won't really be a 'prentice-shippin', but ya could ask any of da Brutes and warriors t'train ya. 'Course, all dey knows about not gettin' beat, dey learned by gettin' beaten." She smiled again, moist breath making a phlegmy sound in her throat.

---

---

---

@Kazemitsu

---

"You know they're gonna dock you a shitload for not bringing back the body?" said the still-unnamed Runt, despite dutifully helping Grunthor hack off the other legs. "They'll probably accuse you of just having found a corpse, too. Even if I vouch for you, that asshole Auguz might not--"

Something down the dark tunnel that big monstrosity had retreated into made a heavy thud sound. Much like a body being dropped down a hole.

"--Remember how we talked about burning that web on the way back?" the greasy Runt hoisted an extra pair of legs so that Grunthor could make sure to hold the torch. His speech sped up considerably, as did his feet. "I bet Anthogs don't like fire, so why don't we giddyup!?"

Harvested [Ven Spider]!
Ven Spider Legs x4
Cracked Ven Spider Legs x4
Ven Spider Pedipalps x2
Ven Spider Claws x5
Broken Ven Spider Claw x1

It appeared that nothing had changed in the rest of the cave--the campsite from before was still ruined, that chunk of ore on the floor was still somewhat shiny, and that wide tunnel back to the outside was still shining with red-tinged afternoon light--!

---

---

---

@ReusableSword

---

As Agar headed back into the forest, he now found himself heading up a gentle slope between the gnarled roots of the trees. It certainly wasn't as tall as the mountains around the orc camp, or the cliffs near that lake in the distance, but from here he could look back at some of the areas he'd already explored. The thicker trees where he'd encountered that horned alligator monster didn't afford him a view to see whether or not that creature was on the hunt again, but he could barely make out that one open clearing where he'd encountered the two large beetles, and the area where he'd first entered the deeper part of the woods--making it easy to retrace his steps and perhaps quicken his path back to the camp.

Of course, being up high enough to easily see your surroundings might mean being visible to other creatures looking up from below, as well.

Nonetheless, at the top of this gentle rise amidst several broad, dark limbed tree trunks, he could see a few other things: A single Red Cream mushroom growing between two roots; a pair of those other mushrooms that looked like a small weeping willow tree; a skeleton, picked clean save for some long dried gristle, that had once been a Harpy; and...

3 Turtleshell Mushrooms, more than he needed to finish his quest!

If he hurried, he would still be able to make it back before sunset...although, using Muffle would slow him down. It had been a huge help keeping him out of combat with the creatures he seemed to randomly encounter, though...decisions had to be made. Some risks couldn't be avoided. How would the orc runt weigh his options?

"Like I care what they dock. They said bring a kill back fully or damaged. This is bigger than king crab legs, which can feed like two people per leg if you're not a pig.' He growled as he lugged the cluster of legs along tucked under his arm. "And if they were any semblance of a hunter they'd probably be able to tell freshness, this is still bleeding." He continued as he power walked as best he could with his cargo.

As they reached the lighter entrance to the cavern he nodded his head and touched the webbing with the flaming torch. He'd be keeping it for now, it was the only thing he had that was weapon-like and a lot of animals feared fire. "If you want grab the ore there and toss it in my pack. I'll give it back once we're safer than here." He grunted as he kept moving to get away from this cave for now.

Strange stars with yet-undiscovered constellations.

But when was the last time she had been able to look up at them without her neck or back protesting from the effort?

Esfir sat at the entrance of her shelter, watching the sky darken, then brighten, as summer stars sparkled and the moon rose. When she felt her body slide back, when the fatigue and silence brought with it an alluring sleep, she let herself fall back into her shelter.

Sleep was not comfortable, but it was deep and it was dreamless.

---

The runt rose before daybreak, rubbing the crusts out of her eyes. The ground had left strange indentations and points of soreness on her back, but everything was as she had left it the night before. She sat there cross-legged for a moment, going over her inventory once more, thinking about the day ahead.

She wanted a proper pot, so she’d have to go up to the mountains to mine for Bowbh. She wanted proper water too, so she’d have to take a look at what was blocking the flow. There was training to be done, and there would be cooking to be done too. She wanted the meat of bigger beasts, and right now, the only way to do that would be to trade with the Adult Orcs. A better bag would be good too. And better clothes. There was the hunter, perhaps, who she could trade with there.

Her Jackalope Spear was still there, the lashings having not frayed. She had replacement points for them. The hatchet and the pickaxe were both going to be useful, and her bracers, while they itched against her forearms, could maybe withstand a Slash or two before breaking. As for the ore she currently had? Esfir dug a hole beneath her shelter and buried the Bufonite and Chalopyrite in it. The less she needed to carry, the better.

Was that all?

It was hardly a shelter. She wanted at least a bed by tonight too. Maybe a blanket, because she swore that her joints ached in the cold of night, even when her body couldn’t have been more than a month old. A chair with back support. A sharp knife to work wood with.

Esfir closed her eyes.

There were plenty of wants, weren’t there?

For now, though, there was only one need.

She crawled out of her shelter, checked that all her tools and weapons were in place, and beelined for the Training Circle.



@Zeroth