Monday 18 July 2016

4

Following them was easy.
As long as he stayed out of the wind and stopped them from picking up his musk then they didn't have any idea he was there. Just like his Da had taught him when they were hunting.
The two Orcs blundered through the woods for a night and a day, bickering and muttering and complaining about their lack of food.
Scrot wanted to know as much as he could about them and the first thing he found out was that they weren't used to being in a wild forest. They were obviously from a town, the trees and the noises scared them, confused them on at least two occasions the one with shoes screamed at some random noise and ran off in a panic with the other grumping and grunting after him. They were wary of being followed by the men from the battle but were so out of their depth that a regiment could have sneaked up on them without their knowledge.

Scrot listened to their conversations as he followed.
He learned that they were part of the company of Gring the Great and had indeed been recruited from a town, Droptun.
They had joined up to make their fortune in the invasion of the the lands to the north east, where the men had settled and built their stone homes.
It seemed that the company of Gring the Great had been part of one of the 3 great regiments in the centre of the battlefield, not the one lead by the High Head One, but one of the others. The two Orcs had been near the rear of the regiment so hadn't seen the calamity that befell the front ranks but they certainly felt the panic that sent them fleeing the field.
Scrot had seen it.
He tried not to picture it.

The Orc with the shoes called the other one, Fraggit.
Fraggit was shorter then the other one but was more bullish and confident. He tended to order the other one around. He only called the other by his name once but it sound like Yessil.
Yessil was scared of nearly everything but was fairly well armed with blade and a shield as well as a bow and a sheath of arrows. He was tall and wiry and had lots of teeth that stuck out of his mouth at odd angles, making an odd kind of pattern that only made sense when he closed his mouth. He wore a battered old bronze helm on his head that had holes in either side for his ears to fit through and a small central crest, going front to back. His clothes were worn and muddy but took the form of a long shirt and a doublet over which he wore a rusted metal breastplate with a pair of ragged trews that reached to his knees.
Fraggit was just as skinny as Yessil but was shorter with an elongated mouth and a large pointy nose. He had one large tooth that stuck up from his lower jaw and nearly disappeared up his nose when he stopped talking. He was armed with a nasty looking long-axe and carried his shield and blade strapped across his back. His boots looked as if they were made for someone else, someone bigger, most probably a man. He wore a long shirt with a mail shirt over it and a large shaggy mantle over his shoulders. His helm was a plain steel cap with a nasal. One ear was chewed and raggedy at it's end.

Scrot wondered what he should do. He could leave them to their fate in the woods. They didn't know the route out of the place which was the only reason that he had followed them in the first place. He could shoot them but he felt that was a little harsh as they had done him no harm. Or he could confront them.

He decided that was best.

He worked his round them and got into a position in front of them where they would come upon him as they stumbled through the trees and undergowth. He took out his blade and readied himself. He knew that they'd pick up his musk before they reached him and they might become nervous and charge him before he'd had a chance to talk.

Scrot stood with his feet apart and tried to draw him up to his full height. He wanted to look like he knew what he was about, to fill the two Orc's with awe as they saw him astride their path. He heard them wading through the green. Coming closer. His guts knotted and turned, he was sick of his innards giving him grief! He was an Orc for Lug's sake. He was supposed to be brave!

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