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Going to try something a little different in this, and just give a small short story
Content warning - Violence
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The morning was too bright on the surface for Amark Ironbeard, his eyes shifting up to the flap of his wool tent which poked and prodded at his eyes as the sun’s gaze illuminated through it. Under the mountain, such light was rarely seen, usually the great caves had strong lights of various lamps or blue fungus, fires which burned from great lighthouses in the middle of massive caverns, or some manner of dwarf made device. Or goblin make. Or if he had felt even desperate enough, kobold made. Amark breathed in and slowly arose, his fine silver lined sleeping clothes hinted to his family’s great prestige and wealth, and he instinctually grabbed onto his warhammer even though he didn’t really need it.
He smelled the crisp air, and immediately was hit with the sweet smell of fried pork and grinned. He was in no rush to get out of his tent, but he tried, as he got into cleaner garb, tightened his belt, and partially combed his beard. More articulate ways to present himself could be done later or in the company of greater dwarves, but here? He chuckled mentally, ‘Like as if I would be caught dead doing anything of the sort here!’.
Amark crawled out of his tent to feel the breeze of the northern air, the light gust of chilling wind and cracked swaying of trees around him. His camp was based on a small stream, as he looked at his small camp only made for two; himself and his newly made servant.
A grim dark brown otterfolk was knelt over a campfire, looking down at his work as he used a fork to turn around a piece of dried pork. He grunted before putting more seasoning upon it and some butter. Amark called out to him in a tired way “Morning Dreank.”
“Dreaux.” He corrected. Amark frowned at his servant’s quick criticism, but only shook his head. “Dreank is the name you were given, at least have some pride in it.”
“Later.” Dreaux was not the servant Amark would have ever picked, but he followed his king into Pendland for the Pout War, but for all of his regrets on the matter, the one he didn’t have much trouble for was that there was at least good cooks in this land as he sat down and awaited for his meal.
The Pout War for Pendland, a joke in its own making. Pout Wars were for red dwarves in Vag-Rumbard or foolish barbarians stuck in the holds of Middle Kevica, fighting orcs or men when they couldn’t kill themselves. It all started with a campaign gone wrong against the southern goblins, their fortresses blasted apart the UDH’s armies with gunpowder, and their cavern walls were thick. The Entire UDH army stayed for over five years sitting in a tight cavern, unable to even tunnel around the defenses to reach into goblin cities which laid beyond, as the goblins only extended their absurd defenses further! It began as any Pout War does, the king called off the war, and in the retreat to their homes to sulk, the dwarves turned their anger and attention to the surface. It began as a rumor, then a fervor, and then a call of violence. Their king made a great speech about not returning to their holds in shame, although in a Pout War, shame was usually all that the dwarves deserved. In being unable to commit to war in the mountains, the dwarves went to invade some surface barbarian country.
Most ended in disaster. Vag-Rumbard invaded the realms of men on many such occasions, and each time they were defeated. There was even a Pout War long ago in the realm of the Roach Men, and that disaster was so humiliating that an entire great and hostile kingdom of dwarves had given up and joined the UDH out of melancholy. The Pout wars of Middle Kevica were just a stream of comedic tales at the cost of the lives and honor of dwarven kind, of orcish victories. To the smarter dwarves perhaps, the idea of a Pout War in the Beastfolk countries would end the same way. Less smart dwarves, like Amark himself, had bought into the zeal, thinking the beastfolk would just fall on their blades, flee from combat, and perish. He had no expectations of winning, but if he had died in battle somewhere, his ancestors and father would at least have some pride in the warrior he would become.
Then they won.
How? Amark could only guess.
It didn’t feel like it should have even been possible. Pendland didn’t have the bigger army, but it clearly had experienced and strong soldiers. The Otterfolk were skilled, and in their first battle they had nearly won. The next battle however was a disaster for them, and then the next one after that, and the next. Their king was clearly no zealous fool, even as his councilors from the senate chided and mocked him for his ambitions. Dwarven wars came to exterminate, to make room for their own people, but instead their king demanded his army stay their hand on the Beastfolk. They would take them into servitude instead, and when the UDH marched on the capital, Amark heard rumors as to the great mystery of their victories. The Beastfolk allies of Pendland purposefully kept back their armies, they waited for the country to fall, for the crime of being the strongest and boastful state amongst its brother states. It fought valiantly, and lost, and now the UDH held an iron hand on the neck of every creature they had conquered in this land.
The occupation to some would say is brutal. The dwarves had no interest in mercy towards a foe, they considered them bandits needing removal. The senate would have gladly had all the Beastfolk removed, the land replaced with dwarves and servile goblins and kobolds. The groves would have been burnt and temples put in their place, cities torn down and rebuilt to proper and civilized standards. But then the Boat Incident happened, something Amark bore witness to. The dwarf remembered that day well, the great senate project of the first dwarf made ship, built to the highest amount of technological achievement, mighty and imperial, and extremely heavy. His king watched on to see the senate gain its short-sighted political victory over him, only for their great project to sink deeply into the waters, in view of the horrified dwarves, the cold-eyed lords, and the snickering Otterfolk prisoners who rather suddenly jumped in to help their captors the best way they knew how. The realm of Pendland became the property of the nobles of the UDH rather than the senate.
It was all a bit too complex for Amark to care about, but now he was stuck here, another occupying officer of the UDH’s first and greatest ambitious colony in Pendland. All its people, low and high, bound in rock collars to show their submittance to dwarven kind. Amark had not bought Dreaux, a former soldier himself, who was captured and sent to work in a brewer’s farm. He joined Amark because the noble requested a servant, and his higher officer gave him the otterfolk, who had been with him for about five years. Pendland had been in the hands of the UDH for a decade, and it felt it would be under the UDH’s rule for a decade more, if not a century. The colony survived two invasions: a military one and a political one. Invaders from the other states of the Great Bay failed to fight the dwarves, and another coalition war was stopped thanks to the effort of the UDH’s political machination. Now, dwarven ship made with Otterfolk design were sailing openly on the waters, trade boomed, and the population had given up much hope to be removing the dwarves, goblins, and kobolds from the region. Even Amark’s own religion was present and growing in this country of tree worshippers, or circle worshippers, or whatever they called themselves.
Dreaux himself was dressed well in the dark green colors of the UDH, his clothes were dwarven made, his pack made specifically for kobolds, and his pan which he flipped meat on was made in goblin forges. He gave a rare smile, taking up a large bowl of dough and bread and cheese he had saved for the side and put it into the hot pan with the meat, covering the seasoned pork with a growing bread which smelled heavenly for Amark. Dreaux kept his head farther from the fire however as he intended to, annoyed at the heavy stone collar which clung to his neck, something he never stopped complaining about.
“Honestly, I’d rather have an iron clasp than this thing. Why couldn’t you dwarves use that?”
Amark rolled his eyes “Iron clasp? Ya mean those badly designed, long tailed made, choking hazards? They don’t even fully circle the neck, lad. That work about your neck is at least twice as well made than any of those long snouted swarmlings could possible think up.” Amark then shook his head “An ya really need to call me ‘sir’ or somethen. It ain’t diginified fer der likes of me! I am a son of the Ironbeard clan, for my father’s sake.”
“Noted.” Dreaux huffed and went back to his work.
It was honestly quite strange for Amark. His family owned many servants, mostly kobolds and a few other dwarves. They feared him, they feared his family, always bending their backs low in his presence to a sickening degree. Yet when they made servants of the Otterfolk, they didn’t even seem too much mind, let alone care. Their king made it clear the stone collars on their necks was both a sign of their submission, but also not. At first, it was specifically believed these creatures would have been kicked out of the colony or worked harshly, especially if the senate had their way. Instead, the nobles of this country returned to their homes, merchants returned to their work, and even soldiers of this country returned to their duties with the same collars. Yet, these creatures were still servile, they were property of the UDH.
“I don’t get it, Dreank. Ya know I could beat ya or have ya punished harshly, right?”
“You could, but then my breakfast making skills would decline quite drastically. In all the years I’ve known you, why bring this up now?”
“Cause, I am a noble, believe it or not. Not some blasted wanderer. Just cause we are out here, looking at this blasted stream, patrolling an the like, doesn’t mean I am less than what I am. I mean, what if my king comes by and sees you talken so poorly of me?”
“I know how to keep my mouth shut, I like to think we are more friends than you the great warlord, and I the lowly thrall.” Dreaux smirked and he finished his creation and began to divide it up on a plate for himself and for his master. Amark huffed and took it, smelling it well before taking a couple bites of it. He loved it of course, just like the last many times.
“Ya don’t treat your situation the way most would treat it, are all beastfolk like this?”
“Depends. In Wargland, folk who wear the iron clasp are serfs, and are treated a lot better than those not in an iron clasp in places such as, say, Gurchland.”
“Why ya folk all call your kingdoms ‘lands’? It all sounds a bit silly to me, I say.”
“Pendland is named after one of the overseeing kin of the Great Warlord, whom we killed a long time ago. Pend-something Veradux. I must ask the same of you then. Why call all your homes ‘Vag’?”
“What an absurd question! It ain’t nothing foolish like naming yer country off of some blasted war king. Vag to you would mean ‘Home’. Like for example, Rumbard, that accursed red country, means Ruby. So Vag-Rumbard is Ruby Home! It makes a lotta sense, considering they primarily like and mine rubies. Ya name your countries off of beasts ya don’t even like or know.”
“I think Cousland is named after the Couslandic marshes, if that makes it better. I don’t know. That has always been how we named our countries. The communes probably made sense of it at the time.”
“Bah!” Amark complained loudly “I don’t get dat either, how can ya folk not even have chiefs? Goblins got chiefs. Kobolds got–“ He thought for a moment, his knowledge of kobolds being lacking even if he was served by so many of them back home “They got dragons, which are like chiefs. Or gods. Something like that. Ya folk have some kings, some of ya don’t, some of ya got merchants running things? Our senate at least is a collection of great dwarves of the holds! Ya even got, dare I say it, women leaden some of ya!? Or female folk or whatever ya call them! It’s crazy as far as I say, good thing the UDH is here then to set things right!”
“Hmph.” Dreaux finished his meal and stood up, continuing to argue with his overlord as he packed his own tent first. Amark continued to rant and argue, his list of complaints longer than ever intended, but once he got a roll on things, it was hard for him to stop even as he pulled out his armor from the tent and snapped at Dreaux to help him into it. “An another thing, why ya folk always gotta be near water? I know ya are suppose to be like otters an the like, but why water!? Nothing good ever comes of it! Can’t see well in it, it makes ya cold, an’ tastes bad unlike a warm cup of drink made by fine brewers. Like the one I pulled ya out of. Like, ya folk even drink here?”
“Sometimes, but it just wasn’t a big pursuit.”
“Why not? Ya folk weren’t even really living till we came around!” The shining armor and helm of dwarven mithril came upon the body of Amark, who could feel the slight sizzle of the enchantment upon it. A mark of nullification was made for many dwarven noble armors, making sure a rogue mage would not snuff away the life and skills with one cheap spellcraft.
“How many more hamlets do we even have to go to?” Dreaux asked boringly, already done with their expedition “Five, ten more?”
“Seven, lad. Counting the garrison an’ trade post. Making sure everyone sees the flag, an’ what not.” Dreaux cringed as Amark pulled something out from the ground near his tent, a big silver pole attached to it a dark green banner. The colors of the UDH. Amark would go to a hamlet, make sure the locals saw the flag, make sure no one was slacking in their duties or causing trouble, and then they would soon return to the main army camp near Pendland’s capital for new orders. Dreaux was tired of it already, but Amark thought this was a perfect opportunity for promotion. “I do this one or three more times, I might even get to return home, Dreank. Get a big ol’ comfy job near me clan, even.”
“Dreaux.”
“You’ll be a Dreank when we go into the mountains.” Packed up and ready, the two set out into the forests, past the stream and towards the east, talking like comrades along the way.
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The conversations were always brief and silent as the two traveled, as Amark liked it. Carrying such heavy things on such a march didn’t inspire great vibes for a thrilling heart to heart. Yet, Dreaux was confused, and when he was confused he needed to know a few things.
“But like, why though? Why even have ‘Pout War’ to begin with?”
“Whacha mean? We come to conquer, like any other folk do, doesn’t matter who really.”
“You went to war with some goblins but then come to my country? I mean, from the sounds of it, you folk came here just cause you lost?”
“Don’t ya say we lost, lad!” The anger in Amark’s voice was something Dreaux knew was not anger, but just a way the dwarves talked, especially on controversial subjects “We didn’t lose cause we didn’t even go to war. Ya ever seen a war in the caverns of the mountains? Lost of tunneling, lots of big forts, inability to even attack a supply line usually. It’s all about positioning. It’s like playing a game of chess, but half the board only got two spaces open to even proceed into the other folk’s side! Then add a big ol’ wall in the way of it. So when we were goin back home, we had all these soldiers with us, an’ we just decide ya folk need to be brought into the fold. Angry dwarves tend to not like bein denied loot an’ battle, so we just came here to do what we would have done to the goblins. Kinda. It makes perfect sense to me.”
Dreaux only blinked and cringe, shouldering his pack as the two walked “I still don–“ He stopped and then held his paw to Amark. Amark stopped as well, but less subtly. He looked around, unable to see anything, but until a large javelin came out of a bush towards his direction. Amark was pushed to the ground and quickly stood back up, looking at the javelin which was implanted where he had been standing.
From out of the bushes, another otterfolk appeared, growling in anger and clearly much younger. Yet, clearly it was no rebel. He was of an even darker fur, shorter, and his face covered in dark blue paint. He looked like a true barbarian with his leaf covered dark green uniform, partly torn and with a patch of dark blue lined in it. He growled, yelling something at Dreaux in a language that Amark only partly understood. It was the dialect of the Beastfolk, likely the younger bandit did not think Amark understood.
“Why the hell did you do that, Pendland dog! Are you all so broken, and cropped in the head!”
Dreaux looked almost confused and then growled at him, barking at him in his own language “Marnlander dog, the hell are you doing all the way out here!?” Amark was aware of the feud between the Pendlander otterfolk and the Marnlanders, each ones hating each other far more so than how dwarves and kobolds hated one another it felt like. Kobolds and dwarves could barely tolerate each other as it was, but when the Pendland king fled to Marnland for safety, they imprisoned him out of sheer mockery and spite. The younger ambusher took out a hatchet and charged at Amark, trying to chop at him, but Dreaux quickly rammed into him as the two yelled and cursed each other. Dreaux was however, much to the younger one’s surprise, much more skilled and stronger than he anticipated, grabbing ahold of his arms trying to knock the axe from his paw.
“Get off me, slavebeast! Get off! Let me kill your leash bearing tyrant so you dumb fools can be free! What is wrong with you!?”
“Stop trying to kill the bearded shortling, you moron! Are you a bandit? What are you folk even doing here!?”
“Let me kill him and I’ll tell you!”
Amark regained his composure and grabbed his warhammer and rushed over, but Dreaux barked at him next “Don’t kill him!” He said in dwarfish “Just help me knock this from his paw!” Amark stopped even with warhammer in hand. He looked down at the struggling creature and grunted. With his boot, he harshly kicked downward at his arm for which the Marnlander let out a horrible cry before dropping his axe. He only partly calmed down, realizing the danger he was in. The dwarf growled at him “Assassin, why are ya after me!?”
The Marnlander refused to answer until Dreaux punched down into his gut, and his eyes bulged. Dreaux growled out orders at him “Answer him.”
The Marnlander recovered, but instead of answering, he spat in Dreaux’s face. The otterfolk servant grunted and warned him “Do that again and I’ll just let the dwarf cave your head in, Marnlander dog.”
“I’m here as a part of the army, ya idiot! We are here to free you, but clearly you are all broken thralls! Mad dog, shoulda just aimed for you instead!” Amark’s eyes went a little wide and demanded to know more “What army?”
“The coalition army! Everyone’s come to kick ya all out, maybe even kill some Pendlander sympathizers.” The Marnlander smirked “Wargland, Cumberland, Brachland, even got Kerkian mercenaries, and Verndaki. Marnland of course leads, real warriors in the least! Unlike you, you mud suc–“ He didn’t finish his sentence as he got another final punch to his gut from Dreaux and doubled over in pain, gripping his stomach. Dreaux stood up and huffed, looking to Amark. Amark didn’t know what to make of it, or even know what to do. The last war was not long ago, and the gravity of the situation was storming in his mind. He breathed in and out manually.
“We make for the capital, an’ tell the council there.”
“What do we do with this one?”
“Leave em’, I think this dumb, fool lad learned a lesson. If we were in the mountains, I’d be taken his paws.”
“Only paws?” The voice came from behind as Amark turned swiftly around, his warhammer gripped in his paw. He was looking up, at a truly intimating figure. It was Ratik, a Ratfolk, his armor made of fur and strips of metal and his helm covered by the skull of a possumfolk as his visor. His pants linen, but it clicked and rattled with bone, and he held to his side a curved sword. He sat on top of a growling warg which was covered in a barbarian suit of armor. It was clear he was no Warglander or Burchlander, but this was a Verndaki royal clansbeast. Amark steeled himself and gripped his warhammer in both hands, as the Verndaki got off his warg and swaggered forward with confidence, his paw not far from his blade. The Marnlander began to snicker through his pain, speaking up “Kill’em both, Ratik! The Pendlander be a tamed creature!”
“Is that true, water dog?” The Verndaki raised an eyebrow, his voice in a mocking tone. Put on the spot, Dreaux grunted “For the likes of you, and that idiot back there, may as well be.”
Amark didn’t like the answer, but he didn’t complain about it either. He didn’t like how confidant and proud this warrior was. He yelled out at the Ratik “Ya leave us be, lad, and we’ll go our separate ways.”
“And miss the fun of dealing with my first dwarf? Are ye daft?”
Amark noticed the warg of the Verndaki slowly begin to come to the side of the Ratik, who scratched his ear playfully. “I am Hurvorux Veradux, third son of the Great Warlord, and brother to this ‘coalition’. I ask you both to submit. Which of course you will, one way or the other.”
“That ain’t happening.”
“Good.” The Ratik drew his curved blade and whistled, his warg quickly running up to Amark who spun and extended his warhammer, it’s handle slamming into the plated beast’s side and dented the armor. Yet, the pathetic blow did still knock the beast to the side who was surprised that such a small meal had caused it to ground itself.
The Verndaki warrior was quick to take his pet’s place, thrusting forward at the dwarf which bounced off his armor. The two’s weapons clashed, but it was clear the Verndaki was toying with the dwarf as he dodged side to side. His swordsmanship was impressive, even theatrical as the Ratik laughed at the dwarf’s slow attempts to land a blow. Amark however got a quick idea of this being the case, and if his drillmaster taught him anything, it was not to allow anger to overcome a need for pragmatic change. Amark waited, and a moment to silence the Verndaki’s mockery came when Amark made a surprise strike, bashing the front end of his warhammer to the Verndak’s chest and knocking him from his dance. A single swing would have ended him had not the Warg recovered and wrestled Amark to the ground. The Verndaki went from amused to impressed, having expected a far easier fight.
Then the easy fight came to an end as Amark struggled with the Warg, biting at his weapon to go for his small head. Amark stared death itself in the face, and then heard a hard crack and loud whimper. Blood splattered on his face as a large javelin was stuck into the Warg’s vulnerable eye, and then swiftly impaled through the mouth, and it fell to the side. Hurvorux’s jaw dropped, as standing over the warg was Dreaux, having taken the Marnlander’s weapon and struck down the Verndaki’s favored pet. Hurvorux was no longer in a mocking mood and charged at him. Amark recovered himself, getting in Hurvorux’s way and tried to bring his warhammer down on him, but the Verndaki warrior attempt to parry went awry as his weapon was knocked from his paw. Amark thought himself blessed by his ancestors, charging forward like an ancient hero to slay an evil foe, but his was knocked aside by another force. Two Ratik were on top of him, as two more came out from the bushes in a hurry. Dreaux saw the writing on the wall and tried to run, only to be punched harshly in the face by a strange creature who appeared as if from thin air. It was a harefolk, standing tall and covered in light green war paint, his uniform very clean and he carried a rapier to his side. Amark looked up, as a Ratik foot went down on his head, and darkness overtook him.
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Amark slowly awoke, pain in his head and body as he regained his vision slowly, filled with an orange glow. A bonfire was made, as he came to attention to see Hurvorux staring at him from the other side, gripping his head with his claws and looking on with dark intentions. This little camp was not alone, as next to Amark was Dreaux, the Marnlander being patched up by a female Ratik who applied herbs to the complaining young warrior, Verndaki warrior talked and ate around the camp, and the strange hares sat together in mostly silence as they drank. Once fully awake, one of the harefolk came over to Amark and offered a drink from his canteen. The dwarf would have taken it had he not been tied up like Dreaux was, and simply nodded. The harefolk gave him the taste of something very unpleasant, sea water which Amark quickly spat out and coughed violently.
“Don’t like it, dwarf?” The hare gave a warm smile, but one which Amark soon figured was a mocking one.
“To hell with ya, long ears.” He grunted, coughed and gagged out the salt water. The hare chuckled “Why invade this country if you hate the taste of sea water then? Kinda pointless I am afraid. Nothing of value is even here, right Pendlander?” Dreaux said nothing, only looking up at him with scorn. The hare came over, dumping the sea water on his head in a slow manner, with smiles and all, expecting a reaction. Dreaux did not give it to him as the hare continued to torment him, in particular “Come now, why be tame to a mountainling, and not to us? You act as if I cropped your bleeding tail.”
“I have nothing to say to a Cuberlander.”
Cuberland, the name was familiar to Amark, as the hare smirked “Why so?”
“I know that mark, the one you wear. Rotter.” There was spite in Dreaux’s voice, one which confused Amark. He looked up, seeing a small necklace hidden on a silver chain which was buried in the hare’s gambeson. The hare took it out, revealing a fine and ornate flat silver symbol, one of three malformed circles tied at the center, studded in orange jewels “Oh, this? Got this off a mercenary, a dead one.” He winked. Dreaux looked to the ratfolk who looked on with some interest and mocked them.
“The Great Warlord must be quite proud his descendents make camp with the Rotted, or perhaps you are all the Fall Father’s thralls.”
“Speak of heresy again, water dog, an you’ll soon meet that devil personally.” Hurvorux warned and then looked the Cuberlander “For yer sake, long ears, you folk better not swear onto the rotting faith.”
“Of course we bleeding don’t, long tail.” One of the offended Cuberlanders grunted. The harefolk in front of Amark put his necklace behind his armor and went back to sitting with his own folk. Amark nudged his servant, speaking lowly “Don’t intimidate then, ya daft fool. Ya can kill yourself in your own time, but don’t drag me down with you.”
“They are going to kill us anyway; the only difference is how long it will take and when.” Dreaux spoke back. Hurvorux overheard and stood up, coming over and smiling “You are quite right, but death can come in many forms. You killed my warg, an expensive one too, tamed fool.”
Neither spoke as the Verndaki soldier gleefully told them of their fates “Going to have fun have ya both flayed and your heads on pikes as we march through this rebel country. Or maybe I’ll send you both back home, so you can work off your debts to me by mining till your days grow dark. I imagine you’d like that, water dog, the iron clasp be a lot lighter than this, I imagine.” Hurvorux tapped the Dreaux’s stone collar with his claw. He didn’t speak, but the Marnlander chimed in “Come on, Verndaki. Stop playing around and just kill them. The main army isn–“
“If I wanted you to speak, thrall, I’d have asked for it.” Hurvorux warning didn’t detach his attention from Dreaux. The Marnlander shot back “I ain’t your thrall. I am a scout to your army, remember, an–“
“An overly eager and young scout who should have been replaced with a proper Fuus. Yer kind’s place is to work and toil for your betters, in service for freeing your kind from the bondage of the Wildar. Speak another word, and I’ll personally gut you.”
The Marnlander went silent, as Dreaux spoke to him as well “Tamed, indeed.”
“I hope you get reincarnated in Gurchland, Pendlander.”
“Enough.” The Cuberlander spoke up “We got prisoners, Ratik. I’d prefer we get to the main army in a hurry if we can, or fight one of the patrols. No need to draw this all out.”
“My warning to the water dog goes to the same for you, long ears.” There was a silence for a brief bit as Hurvorux stared at Dreaux and Amark. The Ratik’s cruel eyes reminded Amark of a goblin’s, yet somehow worse. The creature was calculating the best and most ironic way for the two to leave this world, one which would satisfy him in some way. Amark grunted “Me family is rich, they’ll pay my ransom.”
“Good, though that now leaves you.” Hurvorux looked to Dreaux, but Amark spoke up again “Leave the lad alone, he is mine.”
“Yours?” Hurvorux’s voice sounded less of a mockery, and more like as if he had been insulted. The rat’s face twisted in rage “Yours!? None of them are yours, these stupid fools are all property of the Ratik. My people! My family’s! It wasn’t your kind who brought these unrepentant morons to these shores just so they could rebel against their betters. When we give our slaves iron collars, it is a gift, a promise they will be obedient as we lead our people to a better future. Ya give them this heavy shackle cause you are conquerors and thieves. My people bring the enlightenment of the Circle, yours drag them back to the filth of bowing to gods or whatever yer kind worships. My people ruled this land, made it our home, you only came here to subvert it! The only reason why we are here cause we Ratik were asked to take on this campaign since those miserable ‘states’ could not.”
“Yer kind weren’t even in this land when we took it. How can these folk be yours?”
“Every Beastfolk here is our property, an’ has been since. No matter how they wish they can return to barbarism, they are ours to guide to the light, even if we must drag them screaming to it. Only the Gurchlander degenerates think creatures like you can learn as the Beastfolk can.”
“I’d rather be his thrall than yours, Verndaki.” Dreaux grunted.
“Of course a tamed fool would say such a thing.” Hurvorux grabbed Dreaux and dragged him towards the center of the camp, as the other Ratik snickered. The Marnlander, feeling a bit braver now that his youthful body was wrapped and herbs applied to his wounds, spoke in a high form “If the Pendlander is going to suffer, then let me do it.”
Amark could see this group of evil creatures were going to take their anger out of his servant, and quickly spoke up “W-wait! No need fer that!” They weren’t listening as the Marnlander came close, and took out a knife as Hurvorux stared in Dreaux’s eyes and evilly grinned. He looked to the Marnlander and ordered him about “Take a hold of his legs, water dog. Were goin to crop his pretty tail. He ain’t going to need it where he is going.” Dreaux, who at first showed no fear, suddenly began to struggle as the Ratik surrounded him and forced him to the ground. Amark arose and tried to rush to help, but was held back by another Ratik. The cropping of a Beastfolk’s tail as he understood was as terrible as a beard being removed from a dwarf, or the horns removed from a kobold. It was humiliating to the victim. Even Pendland soldiers in the early days of conquest who were tended to by medics of his camp whose tails were damaged in the fighting would beg those trying to help them to leave their tails uncut, even if horrifically damaged. They were straightening out Dreaux’s large tail as he struggled and yelped. The Marnlander got out his axe, as if quite gleeful to do the Ratik’s bidding as he watched on with amusement.
Amark continued to bark at him “Don’t ya do it! Please!”
They weren’t listening. Yet, as the Ratik converged around the otterfolk, something strange happened. The Harefolk arose, all three of them, and got closer as if intending to watch. Everyone in the camp was so fixated on the torture they were about to give to Dreaux made them get into positions. As if on que, as Hurvorux nodded to the Marnlander to begin his dark duty, the harefolk struck.
They silently unsheathed their rapiers, the Ratik keeping Amark back had his throat slit, the lesser harefolk soldier took his rapier and slammed it into the head of one of the Verndaki, and the commanding one kicked Hurvorux through the fire and sliced at the remaining ratfolk. Hurvorux, realizing quickly what was happening tried to recover and leap for his weapon, but the ratfolk was no quick enough as the Cuberland officer brought a spear from his side of the camp and slammed it down on Hurvorux, who didn’t even have time to yell out and command for them to stop. This battle, if one could call it that, was over quite quickly. The Marnlander was taken by surprise, dropping his weapon as soon as one soldier had his rapier trained on his throat and he held up his paws.
Amark and Dreaux blinked as the harefolk officer looked down, inspecting his kill. Dreaux quickly backed away from the harefolk, silently pilfering their own camp, unsure of their true intentions. This sudden betrayal was unexpected clearly, but the harefolk officer only smiled at them as he returned his attention to the two prisoners.
“Morux. Free them. We won’t be taking either of them with us.” The guarding harefolk cut their bonds as the Marnlander was held onto. The younger Marnlander kept silent, confused and mortified by the treason. The officer bent himself over to him, bending his legs to his level which was sprawled out on the dirt floor of the camp.
“Tsk tsk tsk, Kenux.”
“W-why?”
“Why do you think.” The officer took a bite of a pilfered apple, his cruel tendencies turned to him “Sadly, I can’t abide witnesses, fall father curse us all for such things. Sorry, Kenux, you have to go.”
The Marnlander’s eyes opened wide, letting out a slew of begging for his life as Amark spoke up “No, not yet.” Dreaux spoke up, folding his paws. The officer and Amark looked up at him. Amark reclaimed his weapon as Dreaux looked with grim and cold eyes at the Marnlander. The Harefolk stood up and came over to him, wiping the juices of his meal on his shirt “Don’t tell me you’d spare this creature.”
“Aye, lad, he was quite quick to try to take yer tail.” Amark questioned. Dreaux stared at the Cuberland harefolk, speaking as if the two were kindred.
“You killed these Ratik, and if I was a guessing creature, I’d say it was more than just orders. I don’t know what intrigue this was, but that was the blood of Veradux, the Great Warlord, hated foe of Cuberland. You folk I know hate the Ratik so much, you turn to the accursed rot or the light of Kerkia to challenge them.”
The Cuberlander only smiled “You’d be half right, in the sense you do not know the intrigues. Did you know Bayland promised this land to the Verndaki? Do you think my folk would be here if that were the full case?” Amark was realizing the deception and felt sick to his stomach for it. These cruel Ratik was not here because of some third coalition but were tricked thinking they would come to rule this country as his people had, and do far worse to its people. Yet, the dishonor of it all, the deception, it felt much more wrong to him. Yet he said nothing.
“I love my country, Harefolk. I also hate as my country hates. I know why your kind hate the Ratik as everyone else does.”
The harefolk squinted his eyes, as if insulted “Do you truly?”
“They enslaved our ancestors.”
“Your ancestors bent their heads a lot more willingly to the iron clasp of the Great Horde then mine did, water dog. We were stolen from our homes to here, our people’s great history and culture destroyed by them. They exterminated our people to a point that even our language is not truly our own. How can your kind know what ours suffered through!? They may enslaved your people, but the brutalized mine. The Verndaki do not know it yet, but soon will, that our people do not forget. The blood spilt here is not even the distant smell of the feast of blood that is coming to their kind.”
“You were born free and continue to be free. As you can see from what I am, I am not.”
The harefolk grunted in agreement and looked at the Marnlander “Then why spare this tame fool? Why do you want him? To give him over to your commanders to tell some secret they won’t believe? I suppose you guessed why I’ve decided to let you two live.”
“No, because you know death is too good for him in my eyes. Give him to us.”
Amark did not know what game he was playing at, as the Cuberlander lifted an eyebrow to this. He went over to the Marnlander and took up his axe “Hmph. You hear that Kenux? I think the soft fool over there wants us to spare you.” The Cuberlander looked to the two former prisoners and simple asked “What do you plan to do with him then? I do hope to not just let him go.”
“To do the same that has been done with me, let him go with us, and he’ll disappear from your mind and sight.” Dreaux spoke, yet Amark could tell something was wrong. What should have been cold spite was edged with concern. Amark spoke in agreement “Aye, what we do to him is our business, consideren he tried to have me killed.”
“I see.” The Cuberlander turned to Kenux and smiled “Well, let me just make a quick improvement then.”
The Cuberlander snapped at his soldiers, and turned to Dreaux who expected him to react, which he nearly did. Yet he stood his ground. The two hares straightened Kenux out as he screamed and cried, knowing their intention. Yet, with a couple swift cuts, the Cuberlander lobbed off his tail in front of them, grabbing the weeping creature by the back of his neck and dragged him forward to the two and dropped his bloodied mess at their feat. The Cuberlander only smiled and claimed the Marnlander’s axe and Dreaux took the weeping ambusher and helped him along, as they and Amark disappeared into the brush.
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It had been two days of walking as the three had stopped near a group of trees. Kenux’s stump of a tail was bandaged, in part thanks to pilfering the camp of the Verndaki and Cuberlanders when the treasonous hares moved on. Using cloth from tents and dead soldiers, the horrific injury of Kenux was stopped. Amark had argued in a softer way to abandon the creature, doomed to die at the hands of infection, but the weakened ambusher remained alive. Yet, his hope to run away quickly had been dashed when his paws were bound by Dreaux and kept close to them. The group rested as Kenux slowly made his way to the ground, not talking or doing much, simply looking at his bound paws. Once Dreaux and Amark settled themselves, passing a few berries between each other, Amark relayed some good news.
“I think I know where we are, were near Olg-Pundak, allies of ours. If we cross into dat land, we can rest up there so long as they know our colors.”
Dreaux only nodded.
They had seen some screams as they traveled and the building up of smoke from where villages should have been, the sign of campaigning. Even if this was a war of liberation, no doubt the armies of the Verndak Confederacy or Marnland were tearing apart the countryside. Looting, murdering, and any other foul acts associated with war was an understandable inevitability. Amark knew he would need to rejoin the main garrison soon, but avoiding patrols made that unrealistic. Amark turned to the Marnlander, frowning as he kept his head to the ground, his cropped stump lightly swaying as if trying to imagine it being whole again. It was a sad sight, but one which made Amark more curious than heartbroken.
“Dreank, or Dreaux, or whatever ya call yerself. Why’d ya take this blasted fool along, this murderer in waiting.” Dreaux turned to Kenux who looked back up at him, as if looking for the answer himself. Yet, through his hate for him, Kenux answered for him “If you think I’ll become tame like you–“
“Oh you be quiet.” Dreaux warned him “You’re lucky you are even alive! Had I hated you that much, it’d have been easier to just let the Cuberlanders slay you.”
“Don’t think I am grateful! I heard what you intend of me!”
Dreaux rolled his eyes in frustration as the Marnlander complained “If ya intended to save me, you’d save my tail then.”
Dreaux’s face became red with rage, standing up and going over to him and grabbed him by the neck, wagging his paw in his face “Listen here, you marshland snake, if you think for one second, I am going to save your life of your tail with my body, you Marnlander dogs are more daft then what I am led to believe! I told that degenerate what he wanted to hear. Once we get to a safe place, it’ll be up to that dwarf sitting over there what is to be done with you, if we live long enough to find help.”
Kenux spat in his face, which mad Dreaux frown and harshly slam him back down and march back over to where he was far from him. Amark huffed “Ya clearly hate him, an he clearly hates you. Why’d ya try to even help dis blasted fool?”
Dreaux was silent for a little while, his voice quivered “Because, it didn’t feel right to see a beast murdered.”
“He tried to murder me, an’ likely you, an’ then gleefully tried to crop yer tail. Honestly, Dreank, it would have been far better if ya just let him perish, cause when we get back to safer dwarven lands, first ding I am doin is either hangen him for trying to kill me, or haven him put in a stone collar so he can be worked to death in some mine!”
Fenux looked at Amark who was giving him a harsh stare, and knew he meant every word. If the dwarf was in a foul mood, his death would at least be quick. He growled at Dreaux “You spared me just so this mad mountainling can kill me.”
“I ask you to show some mercy on him then, but I can’t nor won’t stop you from doing so, dwarf.”
Amark squinted his eyes “Ya really want to spare him, what for?”
“Because it isn’t right. He deserves the punishment, and our spite, but look at him. He is younger than both of us and was helpless. Even if this blasted fool took my tail, I’d be doing the same. He tried to kill you because you are an enemy combatant, and because it’s just the way Marnlanders fight. Through ambush. He tried to crop me because our two peoples have been fighting for decades. You’ve talked of honor and civilization before, Amark, but is it honorable to watch a person die unjustly? Those harefolk were Cuberlanders, they would have tortured him to death or done much worse.”
Kenux butted in “I ain’t that young, ya tamed fool!”
“Tamed. Odd word for it.” Dreaux scoffed “You were no less tame yourself when you bent your spine forward to the Verndaki just to get a chance at tormenting me, even as he called you slave. You can call me tame, for it is true, I’ve been toiling here for a decade to dwarves, and toiling the previous decade to Pendland nobles. Before that, my parents were Warglanders, serfs in name but thrall in practice to the Wargland ratfolk. Before them, we were all thralls to the Ratik, and before them we were shepherded by the Wildar. Marnlander, you and everyone you know and have known are thralls to someone, and that isn’t changing any day soon. You’ll end up like me regardless, especially now, depending in this dwarf’s mood. Or he’ll just kill you, as undesirable as it is. I can’t defend you now, not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t.”
“Not like you would, Pendlander scum.”
Amark gave a deep breath before examining his warhammer. He was unsure what to make of his servant, before speaking up “Yer honor ain’t my own, in my country we kill those who try to kill us in such a way. Fighten like that is for goblins. Ya speak of him as if ya pity him, but how far will ya go for it?”
Dreaux paused and thought for a moment “As far as I am willing to go.”
“If that be the case, I will spare this creature cruelty if ya do one thing fer me. Ya start calling me ‘sir’ from now on.”
Kenux and Amark looked at the silent Dreaux who looked oddly at his master, and after a long pause, he sighed and gave up his dignity “I will, sir.” Amark was somewhat impressed, the lengths this creature had gone for such a unfortunate creature. Kenux snickered, unaware of what Dreaux was sacrificing for his sake “Is this kinda joke, or something? So what, I am free now?”
“Oh no, lad. Ya just got spared from me having ya hanged from rafters or get be put in a road making chain gang. We head for Olg-Pundak, an’ towards the mountains.” Kenux frowned as Amark smiled and nodded at Dreaux who nodded back.
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Three orcish warriors flanked Amark Ironbeard as he marched towards the mountain gates, an entourage in the distance. Behind Amark, Dreaux marched beside him with a fresh pack, looking up at the large stone gates and Fenux beside him. The group found its way into Olg-Pundak and were picked up by orcish raiders patrolling the plains and hills and brought to the capital of the orcish country. As allies of the UDH, Amark informed their warchief of what he knew and exchanged information. Much to Amark’s surprise, the war did not go well for the coalition.
Pendland was overrun, the smaller garrisons of dwarven occupiers had minimal warning and were swiftly taken by the returning Pendland king. Pendland’s allies, a large host of Beastfolk were headed by the spear point of this invasion; the Verndaki confederates. The vast host of the Great Horde clashes in a brief battle and crushed the dwarven force which was soon fleeing into the mountains, but after such a battle, skirmishes and resistance brought with it a new host of issues. Infighting in the coalition made it difficult for the combined force to gain ground. The dwarves were defeated within a month of fighting, as Amark and other survivors meandered in Olg-Pundak to await the war’s end and receive news. Eventually the peace was made, and Pendland was free.
And the Verndaki betrayed.
Amark remembered the news well, with a courier telling of ‘trouble in the Pendlander country’, of the main Verndaki host continuing its war towards the mountains. One night, so suddenly, the coalition in mass turned on their Verndaki allies in a slew of blood and violence. The Verndaki commander, the Great Warlord himself, was slain mysteriously in his own tent. Kerkian mercenaries butchered Verndaki camps, and Cuberland soldiers left empty barracks and sunken ships. Amark had told the Olg-Pundak warchief what he knew, but he suspected the warchief already knew, and did nothing of it. Perhaps the orcs were simply biding their time, or this was what all parties had wanted.
Now the time was to go home as Amark saw groups of nobles off in the distance, goblin collogues, and a kobold bodyguard awaiting him. Soon they would return to the heart of the UDH, a smile plastered on his face.
“How can you stand this blasted thing.” Fenux’s voice grated the dwarf’s ears who preferred not to hear him. The younger otterfolk gripped at the stone collar around his neck, barring his teeth and pulling on it. Dreaux boringly slapped his paws away from it “If you stop pulling on it, you’ll get used to it faster.”
“Why don’t you folk just let me go, back to Marnland, I swea–“
“Another word outta ya Fenak an’ you’ll be headen back to Marnland with broken bones.”
Fenux was about to correct him, but a harsh stare from Dreaux got him to be silent. Fenux complained and ran at least twice before being caught and hauled back, but Amark did not punish him as he should. He wanred him “An ya still owe me a life debt fer tryen to kill me, ya buggard. Besides, dis is better, fer der both of you, goin back to der mountain, in der heart of true civilization.”
Fenux again wanted to speak up, but the voice left him when they approached the dwarven nobles who gave a nod to Amark. The talked briefly, between themselves and the orcs. Dreaux looked around, back towards the hills and country of Olg-Pundak, frowning. If life was many doors, his linear path felt perhaps a bit too linear. The inch of shame pierced his mind as he looked at Fenux looking sadly down at his uncomfortable and new uniform which made the marsh dweller itch. If he was right and wrong in what he had done to save him, he did not know if he’d live long enough to see it.
‘Perhaps in the next life, things will be different’ He thought to himself. He looked at the mountain doors which opened to them as the group marched on in. Dreaux and Fenux followed behind, disappearing for the time being behind the larger ornate doors, their futures perhaps uncertain.
Content warning - Violence
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Old Hatreds
The morning was too bright on the surface for Amark Ironbeard, his eyes shifting up to the flap of his wool tent which poked and prodded at his eyes as the sun’s gaze illuminated through it. Under the mountain, such light was rarely seen, usually the great caves had strong lights of various lamps or blue fungus, fires which burned from great lighthouses in the middle of massive caverns, or some manner of dwarf made device. Or goblin make. Or if he had felt even desperate enough, kobold made. Amark breathed in and slowly arose, his fine silver lined sleeping clothes hinted to his family’s great prestige and wealth, and he instinctually grabbed onto his warhammer even though he didn’t really need it.
He smelled the crisp air, and immediately was hit with the sweet smell of fried pork and grinned. He was in no rush to get out of his tent, but he tried, as he got into cleaner garb, tightened his belt, and partially combed his beard. More articulate ways to present himself could be done later or in the company of greater dwarves, but here? He chuckled mentally, ‘Like as if I would be caught dead doing anything of the sort here!’.
Amark crawled out of his tent to feel the breeze of the northern air, the light gust of chilling wind and cracked swaying of trees around him. His camp was based on a small stream, as he looked at his small camp only made for two; himself and his newly made servant.
A grim dark brown otterfolk was knelt over a campfire, looking down at his work as he used a fork to turn around a piece of dried pork. He grunted before putting more seasoning upon it and some butter. Amark called out to him in a tired way “Morning Dreank.”
“Dreaux.” He corrected. Amark frowned at his servant’s quick criticism, but only shook his head. “Dreank is the name you were given, at least have some pride in it.”
“Later.” Dreaux was not the servant Amark would have ever picked, but he followed his king into Pendland for the Pout War, but for all of his regrets on the matter, the one he didn’t have much trouble for was that there was at least good cooks in this land as he sat down and awaited for his meal.
The Pout War for Pendland, a joke in its own making. Pout Wars were for red dwarves in Vag-Rumbard or foolish barbarians stuck in the holds of Middle Kevica, fighting orcs or men when they couldn’t kill themselves. It all started with a campaign gone wrong against the southern goblins, their fortresses blasted apart the UDH’s armies with gunpowder, and their cavern walls were thick. The Entire UDH army stayed for over five years sitting in a tight cavern, unable to even tunnel around the defenses to reach into goblin cities which laid beyond, as the goblins only extended their absurd defenses further! It began as any Pout War does, the king called off the war, and in the retreat to their homes to sulk, the dwarves turned their anger and attention to the surface. It began as a rumor, then a fervor, and then a call of violence. Their king made a great speech about not returning to their holds in shame, although in a Pout War, shame was usually all that the dwarves deserved. In being unable to commit to war in the mountains, the dwarves went to invade some surface barbarian country.
Most ended in disaster. Vag-Rumbard invaded the realms of men on many such occasions, and each time they were defeated. There was even a Pout War long ago in the realm of the Roach Men, and that disaster was so humiliating that an entire great and hostile kingdom of dwarves had given up and joined the UDH out of melancholy. The Pout wars of Middle Kevica were just a stream of comedic tales at the cost of the lives and honor of dwarven kind, of orcish victories. To the smarter dwarves perhaps, the idea of a Pout War in the Beastfolk countries would end the same way. Less smart dwarves, like Amark himself, had bought into the zeal, thinking the beastfolk would just fall on their blades, flee from combat, and perish. He had no expectations of winning, but if he had died in battle somewhere, his ancestors and father would at least have some pride in the warrior he would become.
Then they won.
How? Amark could only guess.
It didn’t feel like it should have even been possible. Pendland didn’t have the bigger army, but it clearly had experienced and strong soldiers. The Otterfolk were skilled, and in their first battle they had nearly won. The next battle however was a disaster for them, and then the next one after that, and the next. Their king was clearly no zealous fool, even as his councilors from the senate chided and mocked him for his ambitions. Dwarven wars came to exterminate, to make room for their own people, but instead their king demanded his army stay their hand on the Beastfolk. They would take them into servitude instead, and when the UDH marched on the capital, Amark heard rumors as to the great mystery of their victories. The Beastfolk allies of Pendland purposefully kept back their armies, they waited for the country to fall, for the crime of being the strongest and boastful state amongst its brother states. It fought valiantly, and lost, and now the UDH held an iron hand on the neck of every creature they had conquered in this land.
The occupation to some would say is brutal. The dwarves had no interest in mercy towards a foe, they considered them bandits needing removal. The senate would have gladly had all the Beastfolk removed, the land replaced with dwarves and servile goblins and kobolds. The groves would have been burnt and temples put in their place, cities torn down and rebuilt to proper and civilized standards. But then the Boat Incident happened, something Amark bore witness to. The dwarf remembered that day well, the great senate project of the first dwarf made ship, built to the highest amount of technological achievement, mighty and imperial, and extremely heavy. His king watched on to see the senate gain its short-sighted political victory over him, only for their great project to sink deeply into the waters, in view of the horrified dwarves, the cold-eyed lords, and the snickering Otterfolk prisoners who rather suddenly jumped in to help their captors the best way they knew how. The realm of Pendland became the property of the nobles of the UDH rather than the senate.
It was all a bit too complex for Amark to care about, but now he was stuck here, another occupying officer of the UDH’s first and greatest ambitious colony in Pendland. All its people, low and high, bound in rock collars to show their submittance to dwarven kind. Amark had not bought Dreaux, a former soldier himself, who was captured and sent to work in a brewer’s farm. He joined Amark because the noble requested a servant, and his higher officer gave him the otterfolk, who had been with him for about five years. Pendland had been in the hands of the UDH for a decade, and it felt it would be under the UDH’s rule for a decade more, if not a century. The colony survived two invasions: a military one and a political one. Invaders from the other states of the Great Bay failed to fight the dwarves, and another coalition war was stopped thanks to the effort of the UDH’s political machination. Now, dwarven ship made with Otterfolk design were sailing openly on the waters, trade boomed, and the population had given up much hope to be removing the dwarves, goblins, and kobolds from the region. Even Amark’s own religion was present and growing in this country of tree worshippers, or circle worshippers, or whatever they called themselves.
Dreaux himself was dressed well in the dark green colors of the UDH, his clothes were dwarven made, his pack made specifically for kobolds, and his pan which he flipped meat on was made in goblin forges. He gave a rare smile, taking up a large bowl of dough and bread and cheese he had saved for the side and put it into the hot pan with the meat, covering the seasoned pork with a growing bread which smelled heavenly for Amark. Dreaux kept his head farther from the fire however as he intended to, annoyed at the heavy stone collar which clung to his neck, something he never stopped complaining about.
“Honestly, I’d rather have an iron clasp than this thing. Why couldn’t you dwarves use that?”
Amark rolled his eyes “Iron clasp? Ya mean those badly designed, long tailed made, choking hazards? They don’t even fully circle the neck, lad. That work about your neck is at least twice as well made than any of those long snouted swarmlings could possible think up.” Amark then shook his head “An ya really need to call me ‘sir’ or somethen. It ain’t diginified fer der likes of me! I am a son of the Ironbeard clan, for my father’s sake.”
“Noted.” Dreaux huffed and went back to his work.
It was honestly quite strange for Amark. His family owned many servants, mostly kobolds and a few other dwarves. They feared him, they feared his family, always bending their backs low in his presence to a sickening degree. Yet when they made servants of the Otterfolk, they didn’t even seem too much mind, let alone care. Their king made it clear the stone collars on their necks was both a sign of their submission, but also not. At first, it was specifically believed these creatures would have been kicked out of the colony or worked harshly, especially if the senate had their way. Instead, the nobles of this country returned to their homes, merchants returned to their work, and even soldiers of this country returned to their duties with the same collars. Yet, these creatures were still servile, they were property of the UDH.
“I don’t get it, Dreank. Ya know I could beat ya or have ya punished harshly, right?”
“You could, but then my breakfast making skills would decline quite drastically. In all the years I’ve known you, why bring this up now?”
“Cause, I am a noble, believe it or not. Not some blasted wanderer. Just cause we are out here, looking at this blasted stream, patrolling an the like, doesn’t mean I am less than what I am. I mean, what if my king comes by and sees you talken so poorly of me?”
“I know how to keep my mouth shut, I like to think we are more friends than you the great warlord, and I the lowly thrall.” Dreaux smirked and he finished his creation and began to divide it up on a plate for himself and for his master. Amark huffed and took it, smelling it well before taking a couple bites of it. He loved it of course, just like the last many times.
“Ya don’t treat your situation the way most would treat it, are all beastfolk like this?”
“Depends. In Wargland, folk who wear the iron clasp are serfs, and are treated a lot better than those not in an iron clasp in places such as, say, Gurchland.”
“Why ya folk all call your kingdoms ‘lands’? It all sounds a bit silly to me, I say.”
“Pendland is named after one of the overseeing kin of the Great Warlord, whom we killed a long time ago. Pend-something Veradux. I must ask the same of you then. Why call all your homes ‘Vag’?”
“What an absurd question! It ain’t nothing foolish like naming yer country off of some blasted war king. Vag to you would mean ‘Home’. Like for example, Rumbard, that accursed red country, means Ruby. So Vag-Rumbard is Ruby Home! It makes a lotta sense, considering they primarily like and mine rubies. Ya name your countries off of beasts ya don’t even like or know.”
“I think Cousland is named after the Couslandic marshes, if that makes it better. I don’t know. That has always been how we named our countries. The communes probably made sense of it at the time.”
“Bah!” Amark complained loudly “I don’t get dat either, how can ya folk not even have chiefs? Goblins got chiefs. Kobolds got–“ He thought for a moment, his knowledge of kobolds being lacking even if he was served by so many of them back home “They got dragons, which are like chiefs. Or gods. Something like that. Ya folk have some kings, some of ya don’t, some of ya got merchants running things? Our senate at least is a collection of great dwarves of the holds! Ya even got, dare I say it, women leaden some of ya!? Or female folk or whatever ya call them! It’s crazy as far as I say, good thing the UDH is here then to set things right!”
“Hmph.” Dreaux finished his meal and stood up, continuing to argue with his overlord as he packed his own tent first. Amark continued to rant and argue, his list of complaints longer than ever intended, but once he got a roll on things, it was hard for him to stop even as he pulled out his armor from the tent and snapped at Dreaux to help him into it. “An another thing, why ya folk always gotta be near water? I know ya are suppose to be like otters an the like, but why water!? Nothing good ever comes of it! Can’t see well in it, it makes ya cold, an’ tastes bad unlike a warm cup of drink made by fine brewers. Like the one I pulled ya out of. Like, ya folk even drink here?”
“Sometimes, but it just wasn’t a big pursuit.”
“Why not? Ya folk weren’t even really living till we came around!” The shining armor and helm of dwarven mithril came upon the body of Amark, who could feel the slight sizzle of the enchantment upon it. A mark of nullification was made for many dwarven noble armors, making sure a rogue mage would not snuff away the life and skills with one cheap spellcraft.
“How many more hamlets do we even have to go to?” Dreaux asked boringly, already done with their expedition “Five, ten more?”
“Seven, lad. Counting the garrison an’ trade post. Making sure everyone sees the flag, an’ what not.” Dreaux cringed as Amark pulled something out from the ground near his tent, a big silver pole attached to it a dark green banner. The colors of the UDH. Amark would go to a hamlet, make sure the locals saw the flag, make sure no one was slacking in their duties or causing trouble, and then they would soon return to the main army camp near Pendland’s capital for new orders. Dreaux was tired of it already, but Amark thought this was a perfect opportunity for promotion. “I do this one or three more times, I might even get to return home, Dreank. Get a big ol’ comfy job near me clan, even.”
“Dreaux.”
“You’ll be a Dreank when we go into the mountains.” Packed up and ready, the two set out into the forests, past the stream and towards the east, talking like comrades along the way.
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The conversations were always brief and silent as the two traveled, as Amark liked it. Carrying such heavy things on such a march didn’t inspire great vibes for a thrilling heart to heart. Yet, Dreaux was confused, and when he was confused he needed to know a few things.
“But like, why though? Why even have ‘Pout War’ to begin with?”
“Whacha mean? We come to conquer, like any other folk do, doesn’t matter who really.”
“You went to war with some goblins but then come to my country? I mean, from the sounds of it, you folk came here just cause you lost?”
“Don’t ya say we lost, lad!” The anger in Amark’s voice was something Dreaux knew was not anger, but just a way the dwarves talked, especially on controversial subjects “We didn’t lose cause we didn’t even go to war. Ya ever seen a war in the caverns of the mountains? Lost of tunneling, lots of big forts, inability to even attack a supply line usually. It’s all about positioning. It’s like playing a game of chess, but half the board only got two spaces open to even proceed into the other folk’s side! Then add a big ol’ wall in the way of it. So when we were goin back home, we had all these soldiers with us, an’ we just decide ya folk need to be brought into the fold. Angry dwarves tend to not like bein denied loot an’ battle, so we just came here to do what we would have done to the goblins. Kinda. It makes perfect sense to me.”
Dreaux only blinked and cringe, shouldering his pack as the two walked “I still don–“ He stopped and then held his paw to Amark. Amark stopped as well, but less subtly. He looked around, unable to see anything, but until a large javelin came out of a bush towards his direction. Amark was pushed to the ground and quickly stood back up, looking at the javelin which was implanted where he had been standing.
From out of the bushes, another otterfolk appeared, growling in anger and clearly much younger. Yet, clearly it was no rebel. He was of an even darker fur, shorter, and his face covered in dark blue paint. He looked like a true barbarian with his leaf covered dark green uniform, partly torn and with a patch of dark blue lined in it. He growled, yelling something at Dreaux in a language that Amark only partly understood. It was the dialect of the Beastfolk, likely the younger bandit did not think Amark understood.
“Why the hell did you do that, Pendland dog! Are you all so broken, and cropped in the head!”
Dreaux looked almost confused and then growled at him, barking at him in his own language “Marnlander dog, the hell are you doing all the way out here!?” Amark was aware of the feud between the Pendlander otterfolk and the Marnlanders, each ones hating each other far more so than how dwarves and kobolds hated one another it felt like. Kobolds and dwarves could barely tolerate each other as it was, but when the Pendland king fled to Marnland for safety, they imprisoned him out of sheer mockery and spite. The younger ambusher took out a hatchet and charged at Amark, trying to chop at him, but Dreaux quickly rammed into him as the two yelled and cursed each other. Dreaux was however, much to the younger one’s surprise, much more skilled and stronger than he anticipated, grabbing ahold of his arms trying to knock the axe from his paw.
“Get off me, slavebeast! Get off! Let me kill your leash bearing tyrant so you dumb fools can be free! What is wrong with you!?”
“Stop trying to kill the bearded shortling, you moron! Are you a bandit? What are you folk even doing here!?”
“Let me kill him and I’ll tell you!”
Amark regained his composure and grabbed his warhammer and rushed over, but Dreaux barked at him next “Don’t kill him!” He said in dwarfish “Just help me knock this from his paw!” Amark stopped even with warhammer in hand. He looked down at the struggling creature and grunted. With his boot, he harshly kicked downward at his arm for which the Marnlander let out a horrible cry before dropping his axe. He only partly calmed down, realizing the danger he was in. The dwarf growled at him “Assassin, why are ya after me!?”
The Marnlander refused to answer until Dreaux punched down into his gut, and his eyes bulged. Dreaux growled out orders at him “Answer him.”
The Marnlander recovered, but instead of answering, he spat in Dreaux’s face. The otterfolk servant grunted and warned him “Do that again and I’ll just let the dwarf cave your head in, Marnlander dog.”
“I’m here as a part of the army, ya idiot! We are here to free you, but clearly you are all broken thralls! Mad dog, shoulda just aimed for you instead!” Amark’s eyes went a little wide and demanded to know more “What army?”
“The coalition army! Everyone’s come to kick ya all out, maybe even kill some Pendlander sympathizers.” The Marnlander smirked “Wargland, Cumberland, Brachland, even got Kerkian mercenaries, and Verndaki. Marnland of course leads, real warriors in the least! Unlike you, you mud suc–“ He didn’t finish his sentence as he got another final punch to his gut from Dreaux and doubled over in pain, gripping his stomach. Dreaux stood up and huffed, looking to Amark. Amark didn’t know what to make of it, or even know what to do. The last war was not long ago, and the gravity of the situation was storming in his mind. He breathed in and out manually.
“We make for the capital, an’ tell the council there.”
“What do we do with this one?”
“Leave em’, I think this dumb, fool lad learned a lesson. If we were in the mountains, I’d be taken his paws.”
“Only paws?” The voice came from behind as Amark turned swiftly around, his warhammer gripped in his paw. He was looking up, at a truly intimating figure. It was Ratik, a Ratfolk, his armor made of fur and strips of metal and his helm covered by the skull of a possumfolk as his visor. His pants linen, but it clicked and rattled with bone, and he held to his side a curved sword. He sat on top of a growling warg which was covered in a barbarian suit of armor. It was clear he was no Warglander or Burchlander, but this was a Verndaki royal clansbeast. Amark steeled himself and gripped his warhammer in both hands, as the Verndaki got off his warg and swaggered forward with confidence, his paw not far from his blade. The Marnlander began to snicker through his pain, speaking up “Kill’em both, Ratik! The Pendlander be a tamed creature!”
“Is that true, water dog?” The Verndaki raised an eyebrow, his voice in a mocking tone. Put on the spot, Dreaux grunted “For the likes of you, and that idiot back there, may as well be.”
Amark didn’t like the answer, but he didn’t complain about it either. He didn’t like how confidant and proud this warrior was. He yelled out at the Ratik “Ya leave us be, lad, and we’ll go our separate ways.”
“And miss the fun of dealing with my first dwarf? Are ye daft?”
Amark noticed the warg of the Verndaki slowly begin to come to the side of the Ratik, who scratched his ear playfully. “I am Hurvorux Veradux, third son of the Great Warlord, and brother to this ‘coalition’. I ask you both to submit. Which of course you will, one way or the other.”
“That ain’t happening.”
“Good.” The Ratik drew his curved blade and whistled, his warg quickly running up to Amark who spun and extended his warhammer, it’s handle slamming into the plated beast’s side and dented the armor. Yet, the pathetic blow did still knock the beast to the side who was surprised that such a small meal had caused it to ground itself.
The Verndaki warrior was quick to take his pet’s place, thrusting forward at the dwarf which bounced off his armor. The two’s weapons clashed, but it was clear the Verndaki was toying with the dwarf as he dodged side to side. His swordsmanship was impressive, even theatrical as the Ratik laughed at the dwarf’s slow attempts to land a blow. Amark however got a quick idea of this being the case, and if his drillmaster taught him anything, it was not to allow anger to overcome a need for pragmatic change. Amark waited, and a moment to silence the Verndaki’s mockery came when Amark made a surprise strike, bashing the front end of his warhammer to the Verndak’s chest and knocking him from his dance. A single swing would have ended him had not the Warg recovered and wrestled Amark to the ground. The Verndaki went from amused to impressed, having expected a far easier fight.
Then the easy fight came to an end as Amark struggled with the Warg, biting at his weapon to go for his small head. Amark stared death itself in the face, and then heard a hard crack and loud whimper. Blood splattered on his face as a large javelin was stuck into the Warg’s vulnerable eye, and then swiftly impaled through the mouth, and it fell to the side. Hurvorux’s jaw dropped, as standing over the warg was Dreaux, having taken the Marnlander’s weapon and struck down the Verndaki’s favored pet. Hurvorux was no longer in a mocking mood and charged at him. Amark recovered himself, getting in Hurvorux’s way and tried to bring his warhammer down on him, but the Verndaki warrior attempt to parry went awry as his weapon was knocked from his paw. Amark thought himself blessed by his ancestors, charging forward like an ancient hero to slay an evil foe, but his was knocked aside by another force. Two Ratik were on top of him, as two more came out from the bushes in a hurry. Dreaux saw the writing on the wall and tried to run, only to be punched harshly in the face by a strange creature who appeared as if from thin air. It was a harefolk, standing tall and covered in light green war paint, his uniform very clean and he carried a rapier to his side. Amark looked up, as a Ratik foot went down on his head, and darkness overtook him.
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Amark slowly awoke, pain in his head and body as he regained his vision slowly, filled with an orange glow. A bonfire was made, as he came to attention to see Hurvorux staring at him from the other side, gripping his head with his claws and looking on with dark intentions. This little camp was not alone, as next to Amark was Dreaux, the Marnlander being patched up by a female Ratik who applied herbs to the complaining young warrior, Verndaki warrior talked and ate around the camp, and the strange hares sat together in mostly silence as they drank. Once fully awake, one of the harefolk came over to Amark and offered a drink from his canteen. The dwarf would have taken it had he not been tied up like Dreaux was, and simply nodded. The harefolk gave him the taste of something very unpleasant, sea water which Amark quickly spat out and coughed violently.
“Don’t like it, dwarf?” The hare gave a warm smile, but one which Amark soon figured was a mocking one.
“To hell with ya, long ears.” He grunted, coughed and gagged out the salt water. The hare chuckled “Why invade this country if you hate the taste of sea water then? Kinda pointless I am afraid. Nothing of value is even here, right Pendlander?” Dreaux said nothing, only looking up at him with scorn. The hare came over, dumping the sea water on his head in a slow manner, with smiles and all, expecting a reaction. Dreaux did not give it to him as the hare continued to torment him, in particular “Come now, why be tame to a mountainling, and not to us? You act as if I cropped your bleeding tail.”
“I have nothing to say to a Cuberlander.”
Cuberland, the name was familiar to Amark, as the hare smirked “Why so?”
“I know that mark, the one you wear. Rotter.” There was spite in Dreaux’s voice, one which confused Amark. He looked up, seeing a small necklace hidden on a silver chain which was buried in the hare’s gambeson. The hare took it out, revealing a fine and ornate flat silver symbol, one of three malformed circles tied at the center, studded in orange jewels “Oh, this? Got this off a mercenary, a dead one.” He winked. Dreaux looked to the ratfolk who looked on with some interest and mocked them.
“The Great Warlord must be quite proud his descendents make camp with the Rotted, or perhaps you are all the Fall Father’s thralls.”
“Speak of heresy again, water dog, an you’ll soon meet that devil personally.” Hurvorux warned and then looked the Cuberlander “For yer sake, long ears, you folk better not swear onto the rotting faith.”
“Of course we bleeding don’t, long tail.” One of the offended Cuberlanders grunted. The harefolk in front of Amark put his necklace behind his armor and went back to sitting with his own folk. Amark nudged his servant, speaking lowly “Don’t intimidate then, ya daft fool. Ya can kill yourself in your own time, but don’t drag me down with you.”
“They are going to kill us anyway; the only difference is how long it will take and when.” Dreaux spoke back. Hurvorux overheard and stood up, coming over and smiling “You are quite right, but death can come in many forms. You killed my warg, an expensive one too, tamed fool.”
Neither spoke as the Verndaki soldier gleefully told them of their fates “Going to have fun have ya both flayed and your heads on pikes as we march through this rebel country. Or maybe I’ll send you both back home, so you can work off your debts to me by mining till your days grow dark. I imagine you’d like that, water dog, the iron clasp be a lot lighter than this, I imagine.” Hurvorux tapped the Dreaux’s stone collar with his claw. He didn’t speak, but the Marnlander chimed in “Come on, Verndaki. Stop playing around and just kill them. The main army isn–“
“If I wanted you to speak, thrall, I’d have asked for it.” Hurvorux warning didn’t detach his attention from Dreaux. The Marnlander shot back “I ain’t your thrall. I am a scout to your army, remember, an–“
“An overly eager and young scout who should have been replaced with a proper Fuus. Yer kind’s place is to work and toil for your betters, in service for freeing your kind from the bondage of the Wildar. Speak another word, and I’ll personally gut you.”
The Marnlander went silent, as Dreaux spoke to him as well “Tamed, indeed.”
“I hope you get reincarnated in Gurchland, Pendlander.”
“Enough.” The Cuberlander spoke up “We got prisoners, Ratik. I’d prefer we get to the main army in a hurry if we can, or fight one of the patrols. No need to draw this all out.”
“My warning to the water dog goes to the same for you, long ears.” There was a silence for a brief bit as Hurvorux stared at Dreaux and Amark. The Ratik’s cruel eyes reminded Amark of a goblin’s, yet somehow worse. The creature was calculating the best and most ironic way for the two to leave this world, one which would satisfy him in some way. Amark grunted “Me family is rich, they’ll pay my ransom.”
“Good, though that now leaves you.” Hurvorux looked to Dreaux, but Amark spoke up again “Leave the lad alone, he is mine.”
“Yours?” Hurvorux’s voice sounded less of a mockery, and more like as if he had been insulted. The rat’s face twisted in rage “Yours!? None of them are yours, these stupid fools are all property of the Ratik. My people! My family’s! It wasn’t your kind who brought these unrepentant morons to these shores just so they could rebel against their betters. When we give our slaves iron collars, it is a gift, a promise they will be obedient as we lead our people to a better future. Ya give them this heavy shackle cause you are conquerors and thieves. My people bring the enlightenment of the Circle, yours drag them back to the filth of bowing to gods or whatever yer kind worships. My people ruled this land, made it our home, you only came here to subvert it! The only reason why we are here cause we Ratik were asked to take on this campaign since those miserable ‘states’ could not.”
“Yer kind weren’t even in this land when we took it. How can these folk be yours?”
“Every Beastfolk here is our property, an’ has been since. No matter how they wish they can return to barbarism, they are ours to guide to the light, even if we must drag them screaming to it. Only the Gurchlander degenerates think creatures like you can learn as the Beastfolk can.”
“I’d rather be his thrall than yours, Verndaki.” Dreaux grunted.
“Of course a tamed fool would say such a thing.” Hurvorux grabbed Dreaux and dragged him towards the center of the camp, as the other Ratik snickered. The Marnlander, feeling a bit braver now that his youthful body was wrapped and herbs applied to his wounds, spoke in a high form “If the Pendlander is going to suffer, then let me do it.”
Amark could see this group of evil creatures were going to take their anger out of his servant, and quickly spoke up “W-wait! No need fer that!” They weren’t listening as the Marnlander came close, and took out a knife as Hurvorux stared in Dreaux’s eyes and evilly grinned. He looked to the Marnlander and ordered him about “Take a hold of his legs, water dog. Were goin to crop his pretty tail. He ain’t going to need it where he is going.” Dreaux, who at first showed no fear, suddenly began to struggle as the Ratik surrounded him and forced him to the ground. Amark arose and tried to rush to help, but was held back by another Ratik. The cropping of a Beastfolk’s tail as he understood was as terrible as a beard being removed from a dwarf, or the horns removed from a kobold. It was humiliating to the victim. Even Pendland soldiers in the early days of conquest who were tended to by medics of his camp whose tails were damaged in the fighting would beg those trying to help them to leave their tails uncut, even if horrifically damaged. They were straightening out Dreaux’s large tail as he struggled and yelped. The Marnlander got out his axe, as if quite gleeful to do the Ratik’s bidding as he watched on with amusement.
Amark continued to bark at him “Don’t ya do it! Please!”
They weren’t listening. Yet, as the Ratik converged around the otterfolk, something strange happened. The Harefolk arose, all three of them, and got closer as if intending to watch. Everyone in the camp was so fixated on the torture they were about to give to Dreaux made them get into positions. As if on que, as Hurvorux nodded to the Marnlander to begin his dark duty, the harefolk struck.
They silently unsheathed their rapiers, the Ratik keeping Amark back had his throat slit, the lesser harefolk soldier took his rapier and slammed it into the head of one of the Verndaki, and the commanding one kicked Hurvorux through the fire and sliced at the remaining ratfolk. Hurvorux, realizing quickly what was happening tried to recover and leap for his weapon, but the ratfolk was no quick enough as the Cuberland officer brought a spear from his side of the camp and slammed it down on Hurvorux, who didn’t even have time to yell out and command for them to stop. This battle, if one could call it that, was over quite quickly. The Marnlander was taken by surprise, dropping his weapon as soon as one soldier had his rapier trained on his throat and he held up his paws.
Amark and Dreaux blinked as the harefolk officer looked down, inspecting his kill. Dreaux quickly backed away from the harefolk, silently pilfering their own camp, unsure of their true intentions. This sudden betrayal was unexpected clearly, but the harefolk officer only smiled at them as he returned his attention to the two prisoners.
“Morux. Free them. We won’t be taking either of them with us.” The guarding harefolk cut their bonds as the Marnlander was held onto. The younger Marnlander kept silent, confused and mortified by the treason. The officer bent himself over to him, bending his legs to his level which was sprawled out on the dirt floor of the camp.
“Tsk tsk tsk, Kenux.”
“W-why?”
“Why do you think.” The officer took a bite of a pilfered apple, his cruel tendencies turned to him “Sadly, I can’t abide witnesses, fall father curse us all for such things. Sorry, Kenux, you have to go.”
The Marnlander’s eyes opened wide, letting out a slew of begging for his life as Amark spoke up “No, not yet.” Dreaux spoke up, folding his paws. The officer and Amark looked up at him. Amark reclaimed his weapon as Dreaux looked with grim and cold eyes at the Marnlander. The Harefolk stood up and came over to him, wiping the juices of his meal on his shirt “Don’t tell me you’d spare this creature.”
“Aye, lad, he was quite quick to try to take yer tail.” Amark questioned. Dreaux stared at the Cuberland harefolk, speaking as if the two were kindred.
“You killed these Ratik, and if I was a guessing creature, I’d say it was more than just orders. I don’t know what intrigue this was, but that was the blood of Veradux, the Great Warlord, hated foe of Cuberland. You folk I know hate the Ratik so much, you turn to the accursed rot or the light of Kerkia to challenge them.”
The Cuberlander only smiled “You’d be half right, in the sense you do not know the intrigues. Did you know Bayland promised this land to the Verndaki? Do you think my folk would be here if that were the full case?” Amark was realizing the deception and felt sick to his stomach for it. These cruel Ratik was not here because of some third coalition but were tricked thinking they would come to rule this country as his people had, and do far worse to its people. Yet, the dishonor of it all, the deception, it felt much more wrong to him. Yet he said nothing.
“I love my country, Harefolk. I also hate as my country hates. I know why your kind hate the Ratik as everyone else does.”
The harefolk squinted his eyes, as if insulted “Do you truly?”
“They enslaved our ancestors.”
“Your ancestors bent their heads a lot more willingly to the iron clasp of the Great Horde then mine did, water dog. We were stolen from our homes to here, our people’s great history and culture destroyed by them. They exterminated our people to a point that even our language is not truly our own. How can your kind know what ours suffered through!? They may enslaved your people, but the brutalized mine. The Verndaki do not know it yet, but soon will, that our people do not forget. The blood spilt here is not even the distant smell of the feast of blood that is coming to their kind.”
“You were born free and continue to be free. As you can see from what I am, I am not.”
The harefolk grunted in agreement and looked at the Marnlander “Then why spare this tame fool? Why do you want him? To give him over to your commanders to tell some secret they won’t believe? I suppose you guessed why I’ve decided to let you two live.”
“No, because you know death is too good for him in my eyes. Give him to us.”
Amark did not know what game he was playing at, as the Cuberlander lifted an eyebrow to this. He went over to the Marnlander and took up his axe “Hmph. You hear that Kenux? I think the soft fool over there wants us to spare you.” The Cuberlander looked to the two former prisoners and simple asked “What do you plan to do with him then? I do hope to not just let him go.”
“To do the same that has been done with me, let him go with us, and he’ll disappear from your mind and sight.” Dreaux spoke, yet Amark could tell something was wrong. What should have been cold spite was edged with concern. Amark spoke in agreement “Aye, what we do to him is our business, consideren he tried to have me killed.”
“I see.” The Cuberlander turned to Kenux and smiled “Well, let me just make a quick improvement then.”
The Cuberlander snapped at his soldiers, and turned to Dreaux who expected him to react, which he nearly did. Yet he stood his ground. The two hares straightened Kenux out as he screamed and cried, knowing their intention. Yet, with a couple swift cuts, the Cuberlander lobbed off his tail in front of them, grabbing the weeping creature by the back of his neck and dragged him forward to the two and dropped his bloodied mess at their feat. The Cuberlander only smiled and claimed the Marnlander’s axe and Dreaux took the weeping ambusher and helped him along, as they and Amark disappeared into the brush.
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It had been two days of walking as the three had stopped near a group of trees. Kenux’s stump of a tail was bandaged, in part thanks to pilfering the camp of the Verndaki and Cuberlanders when the treasonous hares moved on. Using cloth from tents and dead soldiers, the horrific injury of Kenux was stopped. Amark had argued in a softer way to abandon the creature, doomed to die at the hands of infection, but the weakened ambusher remained alive. Yet, his hope to run away quickly had been dashed when his paws were bound by Dreaux and kept close to them. The group rested as Kenux slowly made his way to the ground, not talking or doing much, simply looking at his bound paws. Once Dreaux and Amark settled themselves, passing a few berries between each other, Amark relayed some good news.
“I think I know where we are, were near Olg-Pundak, allies of ours. If we cross into dat land, we can rest up there so long as they know our colors.”
Dreaux only nodded.
They had seen some screams as they traveled and the building up of smoke from where villages should have been, the sign of campaigning. Even if this was a war of liberation, no doubt the armies of the Verndak Confederacy or Marnland were tearing apart the countryside. Looting, murdering, and any other foul acts associated with war was an understandable inevitability. Amark knew he would need to rejoin the main garrison soon, but avoiding patrols made that unrealistic. Amark turned to the Marnlander, frowning as he kept his head to the ground, his cropped stump lightly swaying as if trying to imagine it being whole again. It was a sad sight, but one which made Amark more curious than heartbroken.
“Dreank, or Dreaux, or whatever ya call yerself. Why’d ya take this blasted fool along, this murderer in waiting.” Dreaux turned to Kenux who looked back up at him, as if looking for the answer himself. Yet, through his hate for him, Kenux answered for him “If you think I’ll become tame like you–“
“Oh you be quiet.” Dreaux warned him “You’re lucky you are even alive! Had I hated you that much, it’d have been easier to just let the Cuberlanders slay you.”
“Don’t think I am grateful! I heard what you intend of me!”
Dreaux rolled his eyes in frustration as the Marnlander complained “If ya intended to save me, you’d save my tail then.”
Dreaux’s face became red with rage, standing up and going over to him and grabbed him by the neck, wagging his paw in his face “Listen here, you marshland snake, if you think for one second, I am going to save your life of your tail with my body, you Marnlander dogs are more daft then what I am led to believe! I told that degenerate what he wanted to hear. Once we get to a safe place, it’ll be up to that dwarf sitting over there what is to be done with you, if we live long enough to find help.”
Kenux spat in his face, which mad Dreaux frown and harshly slam him back down and march back over to where he was far from him. Amark huffed “Ya clearly hate him, an he clearly hates you. Why’d ya try to even help dis blasted fool?”
Dreaux was silent for a little while, his voice quivered “Because, it didn’t feel right to see a beast murdered.”
“He tried to murder me, an’ likely you, an’ then gleefully tried to crop yer tail. Honestly, Dreank, it would have been far better if ya just let him perish, cause when we get back to safer dwarven lands, first ding I am doin is either hangen him for trying to kill me, or haven him put in a stone collar so he can be worked to death in some mine!”
Fenux looked at Amark who was giving him a harsh stare, and knew he meant every word. If the dwarf was in a foul mood, his death would at least be quick. He growled at Dreaux “You spared me just so this mad mountainling can kill me.”
“I ask you to show some mercy on him then, but I can’t nor won’t stop you from doing so, dwarf.”
Amark squinted his eyes “Ya really want to spare him, what for?”
“Because it isn’t right. He deserves the punishment, and our spite, but look at him. He is younger than both of us and was helpless. Even if this blasted fool took my tail, I’d be doing the same. He tried to kill you because you are an enemy combatant, and because it’s just the way Marnlanders fight. Through ambush. He tried to crop me because our two peoples have been fighting for decades. You’ve talked of honor and civilization before, Amark, but is it honorable to watch a person die unjustly? Those harefolk were Cuberlanders, they would have tortured him to death or done much worse.”
Kenux butted in “I ain’t that young, ya tamed fool!”
“Tamed. Odd word for it.” Dreaux scoffed “You were no less tame yourself when you bent your spine forward to the Verndaki just to get a chance at tormenting me, even as he called you slave. You can call me tame, for it is true, I’ve been toiling here for a decade to dwarves, and toiling the previous decade to Pendland nobles. Before that, my parents were Warglanders, serfs in name but thrall in practice to the Wargland ratfolk. Before them, we were all thralls to the Ratik, and before them we were shepherded by the Wildar. Marnlander, you and everyone you know and have known are thralls to someone, and that isn’t changing any day soon. You’ll end up like me regardless, especially now, depending in this dwarf’s mood. Or he’ll just kill you, as undesirable as it is. I can’t defend you now, not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t.”
“Not like you would, Pendlander scum.”
Amark gave a deep breath before examining his warhammer. He was unsure what to make of his servant, before speaking up “Yer honor ain’t my own, in my country we kill those who try to kill us in such a way. Fighten like that is for goblins. Ya speak of him as if ya pity him, but how far will ya go for it?”
Dreaux paused and thought for a moment “As far as I am willing to go.”
“If that be the case, I will spare this creature cruelty if ya do one thing fer me. Ya start calling me ‘sir’ from now on.”
Kenux and Amark looked at the silent Dreaux who looked oddly at his master, and after a long pause, he sighed and gave up his dignity “I will, sir.” Amark was somewhat impressed, the lengths this creature had gone for such a unfortunate creature. Kenux snickered, unaware of what Dreaux was sacrificing for his sake “Is this kinda joke, or something? So what, I am free now?”
“Oh no, lad. Ya just got spared from me having ya hanged from rafters or get be put in a road making chain gang. We head for Olg-Pundak, an’ towards the mountains.” Kenux frowned as Amark smiled and nodded at Dreaux who nodded back.
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Three orcish warriors flanked Amark Ironbeard as he marched towards the mountain gates, an entourage in the distance. Behind Amark, Dreaux marched beside him with a fresh pack, looking up at the large stone gates and Fenux beside him. The group found its way into Olg-Pundak and were picked up by orcish raiders patrolling the plains and hills and brought to the capital of the orcish country. As allies of the UDH, Amark informed their warchief of what he knew and exchanged information. Much to Amark’s surprise, the war did not go well for the coalition.
Pendland was overrun, the smaller garrisons of dwarven occupiers had minimal warning and were swiftly taken by the returning Pendland king. Pendland’s allies, a large host of Beastfolk were headed by the spear point of this invasion; the Verndaki confederates. The vast host of the Great Horde clashes in a brief battle and crushed the dwarven force which was soon fleeing into the mountains, but after such a battle, skirmishes and resistance brought with it a new host of issues. Infighting in the coalition made it difficult for the combined force to gain ground. The dwarves were defeated within a month of fighting, as Amark and other survivors meandered in Olg-Pundak to await the war’s end and receive news. Eventually the peace was made, and Pendland was free.
And the Verndaki betrayed.
Amark remembered the news well, with a courier telling of ‘trouble in the Pendlander country’, of the main Verndaki host continuing its war towards the mountains. One night, so suddenly, the coalition in mass turned on their Verndaki allies in a slew of blood and violence. The Verndaki commander, the Great Warlord himself, was slain mysteriously in his own tent. Kerkian mercenaries butchered Verndaki camps, and Cuberland soldiers left empty barracks and sunken ships. Amark had told the Olg-Pundak warchief what he knew, but he suspected the warchief already knew, and did nothing of it. Perhaps the orcs were simply biding their time, or this was what all parties had wanted.
Now the time was to go home as Amark saw groups of nobles off in the distance, goblin collogues, and a kobold bodyguard awaiting him. Soon they would return to the heart of the UDH, a smile plastered on his face.
“How can you stand this blasted thing.” Fenux’s voice grated the dwarf’s ears who preferred not to hear him. The younger otterfolk gripped at the stone collar around his neck, barring his teeth and pulling on it. Dreaux boringly slapped his paws away from it “If you stop pulling on it, you’ll get used to it faster.”
“Why don’t you folk just let me go, back to Marnland, I swea–“
“Another word outta ya Fenak an’ you’ll be headen back to Marnland with broken bones.”
Fenux was about to correct him, but a harsh stare from Dreaux got him to be silent. Fenux complained and ran at least twice before being caught and hauled back, but Amark did not punish him as he should. He wanred him “An ya still owe me a life debt fer tryen to kill me, ya buggard. Besides, dis is better, fer der both of you, goin back to der mountain, in der heart of true civilization.”
Fenux again wanted to speak up, but the voice left him when they approached the dwarven nobles who gave a nod to Amark. The talked briefly, between themselves and the orcs. Dreaux looked around, back towards the hills and country of Olg-Pundak, frowning. If life was many doors, his linear path felt perhaps a bit too linear. The inch of shame pierced his mind as he looked at Fenux looking sadly down at his uncomfortable and new uniform which made the marsh dweller itch. If he was right and wrong in what he had done to save him, he did not know if he’d live long enough to see it.
‘Perhaps in the next life, things will be different’ He thought to himself. He looked at the mountain doors which opened to them as the group marched on in. Dreaux and Fenux followed behind, disappearing for the time being behind the larger ornate doors, their futures perhaps uncertain.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Male
Size 120 x 120px
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