Tharac
An armored boot kicked over a fallen sign post. Beneath it was another dead body, but not the one the orc was looking for. The warlord, Tharac, took a moment to sit back and survey the damage state of the village. There were a few fires, broken in doors, ransacked houses, and dead bodies a plenty. He caught sight of two of his troop shoving silverware into a sack. A sneer and a growl was enough to get the both of them to drop their pilfered goods to the ground and fall back into line with the rest of the band. This is why he hated bringing young-lings out on a manhunt. Not yet disciplined enough to focus on an objective over looting petty trinkets.
Regardless he continued on his way, reaching a point where a human in chainmail was tied and bound and in the process of having the snot beaten out of him. Tharac stood amongst the crowd and watched for a moment, letting the goblins kick and slap the man where he knelled, before stepping in. "That's enough." The words alone were enough to make the majority of the assembled group disperse and allow the warlord passage. Kneeling down next to where the human now laid in the mud on his side, Tharac shoved him slightly to get a better look at the insignia on his chest. The image of a hawk with sword in its talons sat plainly, still visible even through the wear and muck.
"You fought well, for a human." He drawled and slowly shifted his gaze towards the mans beaten face. "I would give you a warriors death, if you would allow me by answering my questions." Grabbing the man by the collar of his armor, Tharac pulled the human back up to eye level. He held the man in his gaze, seeing the defeated yet still defiant look in his eyes. He would have respected his human, if he wasn't about to kill him. "Where are the other remnants of the War Hawks?" There was no answer. A moment passed and Tharac suddenly snarled and stood to full height, dragging the mercenary to his feet. "Where is he!?" He shouted.
The human coughed briefly once Tharac had stopped shaking him, then spoke. "If you're talking about Ossian, then I don't know. Last I saw him was when he went on leave from the band." He scowled at the orc. "You bastards already tried to wipe us out before he came back."
Tharac squinted his eyes at the mercenary. Eventually he sighed and threw the man back to the ground, then signaled one of the soldiers nearby to draw his sword. Tharac then stalked off as they ended the man where he lay.
It was another bust. And without any new leads this time. Disappointing, but Tharac wasn't one to let set backs keep him down. Still he had one last piece of business before he and his troops left this place. He approached a barn where the last of the frightened towns were being rounded up and herded into. Some were holding on to loved ones, others struggling against armored hand and getting smacked for their trouble. Tharac regarded them all, and spat upon the ground.
"You people, are hereby charged with treason, under the crime of harboring a fugitive from our lord. What say you in your defense?" it was for show really. They knew that. Tharac knew that. There was only one way this could end.
"Please, we're just a simple farming village!" Someone begged. "You can't do this!"
"I don't see anything stopping me." Tharac flicked his eyes up towards where the other orcs were poring oil onto the barn roof. They caught the signal and began to climb down. "The Gods will punish you for this!" Someone else screamed. "You and all of your misbegotten kind!" Tharac snarled and barked at the troops to close and bar the doors. There was panicked shouts from the villagers as the bolts sealed them in.
"Your Gods had already forsaken us long ago." Tharac grabbed a torch from on of his lieutenants. "This is what they've wrought for it." He then threw it upon the roof, catching the oil alight and sending the barn ablaze.
He and the band under his command watched the fire spread and heard the screaming inside intensify. Then Tharac turned back to his troops. "Alright, grab what food you can carry and move out. I want to link back up with the scouts and hear from the other bands by morning. We're gonna find this whoreson even if we have to turn over every tree and rock in this hell-spawned country!" Barks of a salute came in acknowledgement, and without another word the gathered horde marched off, leaving the townspeople to their fates.
Ossian
A cloaked man sat in the back of a tavern, inhaling smoke from a tobacco pipe and staring at a mug of ale pensively. Doriath was a small, out of the way village near the border between Halleoth and the wooded territory of the elves. From what he heard, the borders might be pushed back further. The Dark Lord's war with the elves was going well, he heard. The Drow fought with greater malice than usual, it was whispered, and that was saying something. Still, the High Elves of Falendale held out even as their Wood Elf cousins sought refuge with their cousins. Of course, even within the empire, the threat of violence was never far. Ossian clenched his fists.
His home was destroy. Everyone was dead. He couldn't even identify the body of his mother among the burned bodies of the slain. His friends in the War Hawks were definitely dead or captured. He had discovered their camp not along ago and barely managed to escape the ambush that had been laying in wait for him. He had been on the run from a warband led by an orcish thug ever since. He had been laying low ever since then, hiding his identity in order to spare whatever villages he visited the swift punishment for "treason." He did not know why the Dark Lord was so interested in him, but Ossian knew that it wasn't anything good, but where could he go? The Dark Lord's men were everywhere and even outside the Empire, the free countries were always under threat from his armies.
He took one last puff of his pipe before it went out and turned his attention to his drink. Come what may, he would find a way to avenge his kith and kin, if only on the orc that hunted him.
