Deja

"Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi" - Orcish Mercenary RP

I'm still here, I check this daily but only really can write posts up every other day. I prefer consistency quantity anyway.

"Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi" - Orcish Mercenary RP

Sorry for the double post(also a thread bump) but feel free to collab with me if you want something translated for the humans.

"Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi" - Orcish Mercenary RP

Post'd.

"Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi" - Orcish Mercenary RP

Warg fur stank to the fickle nose of Lontok. Wet, and active warg smelled even worse to him, but then again a human city; especially one under siege, wasn't a field of roses. Wisps of moisture flecked at his face as they cut close to the battlements with little resistance due to their fleetness and ferocity. It wasn't all moisture, Lontok could tell as much as his forked tongue flicked up from under his red sash. No, that was Squishy blood that came flying by in the wake of the Chosen. The iron taste lingered even as they drove up alongside the wall. Lontok wasn't really sure you could call it a wall in most places. How the Achnal hadn't simply jumped on over in some places perplexed him, what with the wooden ladders and stockades more rubble than masonry. Leave it to a human to hide in a hole he'd only half built. He'd heard stories of the stout mountain folk that had whole kingdoms carved into the rocks. If that ole pale bastard was right the little swarthy Dwarves knew how to wage war, but Lontok always figured Derthag good for his word if his pipeweed wasn't too strong when you asked him something. At least the inferior defenses would assist the Chosen's mission, and no doubt ole Rosie knew as much as they cut through any bunny stupid enough to stand up to a pack of warmongering orcs on warg-back.

Lontoks longbow creaked as he flung his forearm down and pulled with its opposite limb, stringing a stout orc arrow in one fell thrust the likes a human brute would envy. A soft whimper left in the absence of the bolt was all the air did for Lontok as a pikeman suddenly found his ribs with malicious company. Lontok scanned for another target, but instead spotted a gap in the wall. Kolonch must have spotted it too, for before he knew it the wargs toed the line of the packleader and leaped onto the rooftops. It was a dash and leap and all he could do not to loose his bow when a warg had it in mind to fly. If you weren't careful you'd loose a limb in the whole affair, but the archer was more keen to keep his tongue. Slack jaws and hard landings tended to do that to the less experienced riders of the company but scarred faces hardly mattered to lost lives when dealing with the musky beasts. Never the less Lontok kept his tongue, his bow, and his life, which was more than any orc could pray for when he dove into combat. Lontok could hardly imagine how a first time rider like Sir Beler fared as they made the jump. Actually, now that he thought about it, he hardly could guess how the human fared at all thorough this hasty plot. His questions soon got answered as the human spoke up.

“Stay your hands, we are on your side!" hollered Beler in a quivering spurt of Malish tongue.

Lontok never quite liked these lowland dialects the humans favored in the region, and Malish was one such bunnyspeak.

Koloch called out, “Easy Tuskers, let Beler speak to his bunnies. Lontok, help him, Ygdri, Mutt, help Derthag out,”

That caused Lontok to perk up, and just as well notice the rumble below him. Seemed his warg was on edge, and not just because the crossbows trained at them(to be fair Lontok was far more interested in those than who was holding them, which his mount probably cared more for.) One of the pack must have been in distress, and a look over his shoulder told him as much as he spotted a speared warg near the back. He sucked his teeth thinking of the trouble that could cause the group. The human couldn't much tell the added peril it put them in. All they seemed concerned with was that handful of orcs that had just jumped into their city riding war wolves with nary a warning to the whole deed. Obviously, it might take more than Sir Squishy to diffuse the situation. Lontok drug a heel into the flank of his steed Smiler causing them to take one stride forward, while Lontok tugged his red sash below his chin so he could speak; his bow was unquivered but ready if things got hairy, while his other hand stayed the reins.

"We are of the Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi. The...Prince...," he jerked his head in the direction of Beler, having had to use a loanword form the father-tongue of Malish for a royal title such as his. Hopefully the Malish would surmise, even if it did come from the mouth of an orc. "has sought our services in this....endeavor of yours." Another pause fought with Lontok while he dug through his mind for a polite term for the siege. You always had to be polite when it came to people pointing weapons at you, he'd learned as much as a slave to Drow in his youth. Lontok had a good grasp of this dialect, Malish, even though forming the words near the front of his mouth was strange to him. He much preferred the lofty rhythm of the High Elves but you took what you were given. They'd understand him, and if no one acted hastily they'd but down the crossbows and let the Chosen carry on. Beler seemed a bit tongue tied himself, double-taking when Lontok followed up his proclamation. Perhaps he hadn't thought Radush would have sent a diplomat along with the insertion party. All the Prince really could do is flare his nostrils in a bemused huff tightened his lips as he waited for a response.

Lontok stifled a snicker at his highness, instead his snake tongue flicked around a tusk before calling out(in Malish) in a louder tone "Mind your distance, our mounts are agitated."

He turned toward Koloch and dropped his octave and root langue to speak with him. Koloch knew Vendish(A royal language that many other human tongues bore from), a tongue that Lontok took a liking to for its descriptiveness over many other 'improper' human tongues, and so the archer spoke in its dynamic structure.

"The Prince has told them to stand down for we are allies. I have told them we are of the Company and are employed to the Prince....the squishies have been told to mind the wargs for they are angry."

"Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi" - Orcish Mercenary RP

Unless I am mistaken, my character knows the most human-lingo to diffuse the fact a bunch of bloody warg-riding orcs just smashed themselves into the city unannounced. He'll state our intentions once we figure out what kind of scuffles and disputes the scared bunnies commit. Should I post first this round if i am interpreter, or what til there are things said to interpret?

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Well, since Prince Potter/Beesting hasn't been active on-site for a month now, I'll tie our loose end off prematurely for the sake of freeing up my character Tremor. So, whats new in this world?

"Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi" - Orcish Mercenary RP

Post'd. It's a bit of a cut and edit job since I wrote half of it on a phone so yeah. But I posted and I am happy this still lives!

"Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi" - Orcish Mercenary RP

The camp, if you could call that, of orcs was something Lontok never much enjoyed hanging about. The company did have to settle down for rest, respite, and defense from time to time but any being in this world could tell you that having multiple orcs making themselves home in an area is a disgusting venture. Eyedrinker of course had standards to keep vermin and disease at bay, but the general rowdiness and apathy of an orc, let along near thousand of them, was a sight and smell to behold. Lontok kept his tattered robe flung about him as he made his rounds about the camp, its black drapes providing at the very least a symbolic barrier to the filth Lontok perceived. True, the image of the sneaky orc archer shrouded in black did nothing to help his view among the freshest of recruits, but then again what did? The serpentine tongue that swatted at his cheek to rid it of gnats sure didn't, nor did the drow symbols branded on his neck. It made it all the better that the Achnals would feel the fury and wrath of Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi, sneered the ex-slave as he scurried around a rather large brute of an orc as he made his way toward Radush's tent. He'd been summoned, and he would heed the call of the sly old orc like all the other that dare wear red.

The map was large, sparse but gave enough wisdom that Radush seemed to amke heads and tails of. The stabbing finger gave Lontok all he needed to know; he considered the gambit a squishy term 'Ye Olde Smash N Dash'. Apparently they actually had one such squishy in their midst, and the intention of the mission was to get him into the city. A spark flew in Lontok's gaze, and quickly fell dim with disappointment. He'd most likely not get to talk up the locals much in this campaign. It was perhaps for the best, since the multi-lingual orc wasn't the most welcoming sight to the races of the region. Still, him and his snaketong could dream. He'd be left to read his elven books before he tried to rest before this twilight mission. And that's just what he did, mumbling foreign verses of incomprehensible cultural traditions in the deep hours of the night til the rumbling of the wargs being brought to bear roused his interest and earthly body. He gave a flick of his strange tongue before grabbing his things and donning his war-garb.

Lontok kept his matted hair tied in a loose bundle of dreads and ornaments near the top of his head, forgoing the habitual armored leather cap for something more mobile given the current mission. His sharp eyes peered over a large red sash that covered everything from under his eyes to his sternum, a multitude of hasty stitches forming a wicked looking mouth where his neck would normally be. A deep brown and hardy leather curcarcuss gave him the most protection, but then again atop a warg with a bow was what Lontok took to be the most protection he had. It also helped that he had the resat of the Chosen in this mission, so he couldn't complain. His usual warg was a gnarly beast, a tusk like fang pointing upwards from its usual skowl gave its namesake; Smiler. He didn't mind his furry partner much; he'd much prefer a equestrian steed for his archery being higher and more static mid-gallop than the low-slung and loping canine that he even now was checking its saddle straps for comfort. But as the snaketong had to admit, a horse could hardly be counted on as an offensive asset. He'd seen Smiler ripped too many a man and beast apart to ever doubt his skills. He'd just have to keep his bow steady , and quiver heavy. Having a hefty dagger strapped to his thigh certainly eased his fears if Smiler didn't, at least he told himself that as he slung himself up and over onto the mount with practiced grace. A quick press of the knees brought the pair forward and into the Chosen's procession. Soon they would be off on their mission, and soon blood would flow. It was that thought that hung over Smiler and Lontok as they felling into the back of the wedge that was quickly venturing toward enemy lines.

The hilltop came out of the dawn mist with a creeping luster, vaguely showing Lontok silhouettes of the camp tent line and the occasional meandering Achnal. It made little difference to him as the familiar sinew cut tightly into his leather bound digit, and his sight narrowed down on one such hazy figure from afar. The bow hardly creaked from the strain, Lontok figured if the wargs kept this pace through the morning he'd have dew defiling the sanctity of his hardwood. The dampness was enough to make him sneer as the orc archer let loose his burden, barbed package making its way toward a particularly loud Achnal dealing with his natures morning duty(Lontok figured a sight of warg riding orcs riding out of the morning fog might be the cause of that). The bolt cut straight through tunic and rawhide, a viscous a crimson bubbling out from the base of his throat where the shaft now lay. Poor lad would bleed out before he realized the heavy orc arrow had broken his collarbone in the process. A second vacancy in Lontok's quiver was given to a hornblower atwix the eyes to the far back of the camp as the first horses fell to their toothy steeds. His bow hardly had a moments respite as its third shot flew wide of a horseback rider as his horse bucked in fright of a leaping warg. He could hardly curse himself before he felt his beast lurch forwards to strike down a vanguard.

The wedge formation held true as they tore through the ill-readied camp, and Lontok spied Sir Squishy(if he had a name, Lontok had yet to hear it) clinging for life astride with Koloch's formidable figure. His orc eyes caught glimpses of wargs pouncing, orcs dismounting, and battle commencing around him as the mission proceeded, but he stayed mounted and on the move at the rear flank of big Koloch and his fearsome Halberd to use as a reference. If they fell this was pointless effort, so he kept his bowstring strung in the defense of them for now. The sweet "thwunk" rang in his ear as another bolt let loose into the flank of a rival archer taking aim at Sir Squishy. His figure slumped into its hovel among the walled fortifications as the wargs rode by full tilt.

"Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi" - Orcish Mercenary RP

I've got the archer role mostly covered, but I was leaning more toward diplomat role.

"Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi" - Orcish Mercenary RP

My character would get along great with yours Imagination. He's an ex-slave to elves and also a motormouth with a knack for picking up languages, while being a damn good bowman to boot. If he found an orc with some exotic knowledge to share and a good temperment to not cut his head off for talking too much, he'd strike up a friendship quickly.