"Uh, hi! I'm gunna go out an hunt! But did ya say sumthin bout a cave in da north? What were ya doing up dere? Were you fightin monstahs, or maybe huntin?"
“Eh?” The adult orcs seemed surprised that Gren had even approached them, much less started talking to them, and they glanced at each other as if to say ‘is this Runt one of yours?’ Luckily, Vola stayed further back and out of sight, so none of the three noticed her before they turned back to Gren. The one in particular that he tried to butter up simply snorted and spat a disgusting glob of phlegm into the fire, where it hissed.
“I was scoutin’, is all. Warchief wants to make sure ain’t nothing around here to catch the drop on us.”
"You look really strong, yeah! You musta killed lots before. I wanna know how to be strong like you, so when I go huntin I'll get something good for tha camp!" As Gren showcased his elite skills, the three orcs sat there for a moment—then burst out into raucous laughter.
“Aye, th’ li’l bugger ain’t bad, eh!?” chortled one, nudging the other. “A real terror, innit?!”
“Lookie ‘ere, Runt!” The one in the middle suddenly reached back behind his hip, and drew out a large, drop-tipped cleaver. It was made of considerably old and worn iron, but the edge had been taken care of well—the weapon’s body had a roughness and spots of rust to it, but that thin, ragged white line looked perfectly serviceable. “Before you worry about gettin’ tough, worry about stayin’
alive!” He flourished the cleaver before symbolically drawing the back of the metal across his own throat. “If ya’s get back from yer hunt, you’re still gonna have to train with Auguz! ‘E’s a tough bastard ‘e is, and ain’t nuthin’ makes ‘im happier than putting a runt like you in yer place! Just ask that fatty, Builge!”
“Ah, das right, Builge was in da brood afore dis one, wasn’t he?” chuckled the third orc. “No wonder he’s been a right li’l shite lately.”
The three commenced to discussing whether it’d be worth the verbal abuse from Auguz or the Warchief if they were to go kick Builge’s tower out from under him, or if they could get away with just throwing rocks at him. It didn’t take long at all for them to forget Gren entirely…
…In other words, it looked like he and Vola had made a clean getaway.Item Acquired!
Stone Hatchet - Equip, Weapon/Tool - A thick tree bough has been carved into a tapered shape and had a hole bored through it, then fire-hardened. A knapped and sharpened stone blade has been driven through the hole in such a way that impacts will push it further into the handle. Further security is provided by some cordage and sticky tree sap. At your current size, it is considered a two-handed, heavy weapon.
Akeno blocked the fireball, Lazash tackled the flame-spitter, Grunthor wrestled the screeching bird, and Esfir pondered how no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy. Lazash was dragged along as she tried to strangle her wounded prey, Grunthor suffered half a dozen vicious pecks as he beat his victim with a rock, Esfir leaped into action, and Akeno reacted on a sense of muscle memory that still didn’t quite fit with this new body. But as her hips torqued, for an instant the kick felt “right,” and
slammed into the Elwet with a satisfying thud! The creature crowed in pain—and one of its wings suddenly drooped at an unnatural angle. The beast was knocked off its feet but quickly recovered, scrambling and flapping away—
right towards the rest of the chaotic mess.The bird carrying Lazash
ran into Esfir’s stick just like a charging boar was supposed to, and the impact struck it dead center in the body—it gave a hoarse squawk, as if the breath was knocked out of it. Its charge was halted, jerking Lazash around, but she kept a tight hold and with all the fury that only a creature desperate to kill another can generate, twisted with both hands.
There was a single instant of resistance—CRACK.The fire-spitting bird suddenly thrashed and kicked in one last death throe, spinning in circles on the ground. Its dangerous claws and powerful wings
created a flurry of pain for the two orc females! What was more, the injured Elwet Akeno had been fighting now crashed into them from behind!
Assuming Grunthor kept weathering the beak trying to pierce his bald head and flailing at the creature with his rock, he would feel his opponent’s body
suddenly go rigid after one heavy blow, and then limp.
Though his wounds bled and stung like nobody’s business and made him look like hell, as long as he avoided getting hit in the eye they wouldn’t be seriously debilitating…but then again, open wounds meant a greater chance of infection, and nothing about the Orc camp suggested they had much in the way of medicines…
Enemy Elwet Appeared!
Defeated: 2/4
Fled: 1/4
As
Rik moved among the trees and the underbrush, carefully picking his way across the root-strewn and uneven forest floor, he would hear sudden movement headed right for him. But just as he readied himself, the brown-and-white-blur shot out of the bushes and barreled right past him, too swift for him to react to! He got a decent look at the blurred figure, at least—it was one of those rabbits with antlers, the Jackalope. Even compared to regular rabbits back on earth, the thing was bloody
fast.But almost as soon as the critter had disappeared into the brush again,
he heard the calls of the Elwets—and they were definitely not happy about something. If Rik chose to investigate, he would also hear the sounds and cries of battle. Had more Runts come out this way? There were definitely multiple Elwets; dare he risk taking them on by himself?
Before such a decision could be made, however, something else came
charging through the bushes. This one wasn’t near as fast as the Jackalope, and that beast had already put Rik on edge. So with his reflexes already revved up, he had the upper hand as an Elwet came almost blindly stumbling out of the bushes right in front of him, horned head turning back from looking over its shoulder…
As Duram and Agar began moving in the direction of Ushnekh’s testing ground—though of course, they had yet to discover that the other Runt was there—they moved away from the gravelly slopes and into the dense treeline. Agar paused, and with a cautious crouch tried to summon up his newfound power—or the Skill, as this world seemed to refer to it.
Duram wouldn’t be able to see or feel it, but from Agar’s perspective,
a neon-green circle spread out from his body through his feet, expanding until it covered the entire range of the Skill and then rebounding off every living thing in the vicinity. Trees and other plantlife caused a reaction, but if he didn’t look with his eyes and only “felt” the effects, it was as if they were soft, semi-transparent images. Instead, the “living creatures” specified by the skill description he’d seen began to glow with a soft green "flame," the size of which seemed to indicate their general size or strength.
A Dire Rat was currently moving away from the two runts, stealthy dashing underneath the brush to their left. It had little interest in them, as one might expect of a rodent, and simply wanted to get away from the bigger shapes crashing through the underbrush. To their right and perhaps a few yards into the forest, there was a
tree whose outline included something vibrant and round…was that one of those Leppa Fruits, then? It glowed separately from the main tree’s body, up in the branches.
But straight ahead of them, at the very edge of the skill’s range, Agar picked up a much larger and somehow familiar signal—it had to mean that another of the
Runts was out here. And though the two were overlapping, somehow the Field Scan could differentiate between two separate creatures. From the chaotic way the signals moved, it seemed like the larger life-sign
was under attack! If it was indeed a Runt, what could they be fighting? And should he and Duram intervene?
Moving backwards along with his attack proved to be the right choice thanks to Ushnekh’s instincts. The Tatzelwurm’s jaws snapped shut on empty air, but before it could regather itself for another lunge it was
smacked in the face by a piece of rough wood. The creature’s catlike claws slashed at the stick, slicing a deep notch into it and knocking it away. But then the Orc Runt did something quite unexpected—Very, very rarely did any of them have magic at this young of an age. But Ushnekh did!
“[Earth Wave]!” Somehow, shouting the skill made it feel…stronger. But after already using it once that morning, Ushnekh felt a great deal of energy drain out of him-—
he might be able to use it just once more, something deep inside his new body told him.
The Tatzelwurm was assaulted by a rolling wave of dirt and debris, slamming into it like a moving wall! The earth itself seemed to lift the creature and toss it on a low trajectory, where it bounced once upon impact. The monster’s long body thrashed and writhed as it struggled to right itself—a fight like this wasn’t worth it to the ambush predator, and as soon as it had its bearings it was
going to make a mad dash for the brush! Would Ushnekh be fast enough, or capable enough, to finish it off!?
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