>>42234513
Links:
>Character Bios: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1R9snecj2CMMLcA_gFlvUnqPKKrFJDhMUGmWYcCc0qjk/edit?usp=sharing
>Character Sheets: https://docs.google.com/document/d/16HQFIGCToR2Vv5N2jg_Za9oWs1OMByzQ5ReJSiZFdME/edit?pli=1
>Setting Info: http://pastebin.com/aRt0MR72
>Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrightTegu
>Ask: http://ask.fm/BrightTegu
>Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Orc%20Warlord

>>42234513
>Tactical withdrawl
Let's not shitmonster ourselves.

Sup lordy

>>42234513
>>Thin out the numbers of its slaves
Kill the source first not the symptoms.

Have our dog thingymacjig hold our back from the bodies though.

>>42234513
Thin out the slaves

>I'm so happy I've finally caught this live

>>42234513
>>Tactical withdrawl

>>42234534
THE HORROR, ATTACK THE HORROR NOT THE SLAVES FUCK I MEANT TO HIGHLIGHT THE FIRST OPTION.

>>42234513
>>42234513
>Tactical withdrawl

>>42234513
>>Thin out the numbers of its slaves

>>42234606
Almost forgot
>orders for Raka
Don't let them grab you or no more mating
Sup War

>>42234513
GET RAKA TO SCREAM

Right, tactical withdrawl wins.

>Roll 1d20

>>42234530
>>42234625
Sup anons.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>42234688
>>>Roll 1d20

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>42234688

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>42234688
let's roll

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>42234688

>>42234739

god damn if only you rolled a bit later than i did....

“Raka,” you growl, a quick flick of your wrist all the direction he needs.

He rears back, the thick fur of his back prickling as he opens his mouth, letting out an ear-splitting howl which tears the air, a visible ripple where it passes. The visceral orc-things stumble in their approach, their unstable bodies struggling to maintain their forms as the sonic blast tears through them, one caught full-force by the sound bursting into a mass of gore.

You can already see them reforming, more pulling their way free of the Horror's innards, but you don't intend to be here when they do.

“Raka, come,” you snap, backing away and turning, boots hammering the rock as you sprint away into the wastes, dodging boulders and hopping over cracked and uneven ground, your companion running alongside you.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you see the Horror still standing where it was before, its slaves making little progress as they trudge after you, their soft bodies ill-suited for pursuit. With a loud sigh, the Horror turns, trudging away, its minions unravelling into piles of gore which snake back into its open belly.

You growl, watching it leave. It doesn't feel good to run from a foe, but you knew too little of what that thing was capable of to face it here, on its terms. Climbing up onto a flat rock, you scan the horizon, getting your bearings once more, you've veered quite far off course, but you should be able to find your way to your destination all the same, provided you're willing to ignore the Horror for now.

>Head for the ruins, you can hunt it down later with backup
>Keep stalking the Horror from a safe distance

>>42234818
>Head for the ruins

Let's do what we came here to do.

>>42234818
>>Head for the ruins, you can hunt it down later with backup

>>42234818
>>Head for the ruins, you can hunt it down later with backup

Anyways getting late in Aus. Don't get killed by sand demons within 6 hours guys!

>>42234818
>>Head for the ruins, you can hunt it down later with backup

>>42234818
>Head for the ruins, you can hunt it down later with backup

Writing.

You came here for a reason, and that Horror is just a distraction right now. You can always come back later with more warriors and put it down, you doubt it would be hard to track.

You continue on for a couple of hours, Raka padding along beside you, pausing occasionally to sniff the air as a slight breeze rolls by. As time goes by, he grows less agitated, his shoulders relaxing, the slight snarl gone from his blunt snout. You've most likely only got a few hours to go before sunrise, but you figure this would be a good time to take a break, setting up camp atop a large outcropping, giving you a good view of the surrounding lands.

The night passes fitfully, Raka wakes you more than once, snarling into the gloom, the night eerily silent, even compared to the usual quiet of the Wastes. Still, morning comes without incident, so, feeling a little tired and irritable, you break camp and continue on.

The morning is a quiet one, a small pride of crag lions stalk you for a while, but Raka deals with that easily enough, the both of you stopping at midday for a meal of tough, gamey meat taken from the body of the pride's male leader. By the evening you can see what may be the ruin off in the distance, a crumbling tower just visible over the broken terrain.

With the sun growing low, you set up camp for another night, planning to head for the ruins with the sunrise. Despite Raka's good mood from this morning, the bandersnatch once again grows increasingly on edge as the sun sets, pacing the edge of the camp snarling at nothing. You frown, staring out into the twilight, but if there is something out there upsetting your warbeast, you can't see it.

>Set up camp and rest the night
>Scout for the cause of Raka's behaviour
>Push on to the ruins now

>>42235028
>>Scout for the cause of Raka's behaviour

Just cause it ain't Abyssal don't mean it ain't dangerous.

>>42235028
>Push on to the ruins now

>>42235028
>>Scout for the cause of Raka's behaviour

>>42235028
>>Scout for the cause of Raka's behaviour

>>42235028
>Scout for the cause of Raka's behaviour

>Roll 1d20

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>42235163

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>42235163

>>42235169
Shit.

My bad.

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>42235163

File: 1432332439888.png (441 KB, 300x900)

441 KB PNG

>>42235169

>>42235195
nice save

>>42235195
Maybe once we've visited the ruins and dealt with whatever Skor'oz Zik has in store for us, we can run into the abyssal horror on the way back and take care of it with renewed vigor.
>>42235195
Nice.

You leave the camp half-finished, staying low as you pick your way through the rocky landscape, seeking out the source of Raka's irritation. The bandersnatch skulks along beside you, teeth bared and ears pinned back as he looks from side to side, sniffing the air.

Frowning, you circle around the camp in a wide arc, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but nothing stirs on the surface of the Wastes. It isn't until you hop across a narrow crevasse that you notice something, a vague sound, barely audible, echoing up out of the darkness beneath. It reminds you of the crying of the younger whelps somewhat, a grating noise of discomfort, though this one seems a little more high pitched and shrill than what you're used to.

Raka snarls, claws scraping furrows into the stone underfoot as he hunches down near the edge of the crevasse. You crouch down next to it, axe at the ready just in case, but even as far down as you can see into the darkness, you spot no movement, no signs of activity, the only other unusual sign being marks on the walls of the narrow crevasse, reminiscent of nail marks.

>Call out to the voice
>Ignore it, return to camp
>Find a new campsite

>>42235280
>>Call out to the voice

>>42235280
>>Call out to the voice

>>42235280
>Find a new campsite

Calling out wins.

Writing.

“Hey, there someone down there?” you shout, your voice echoing off the walls of the crevasse.

The faint wailing stops immediately, replaced by a scrabbling, scuffling sound from deep beneath. Squinting down into the gloom you make out the vague outline of a shape, humanoid perhaps, clawing its way up the wall of the crevasse towards you. Raka's growling grows deeper, his whole body tensed up as the thing beneath drags itself up out of the darkness.

“Pl-ease, please,” a voice calls out in halting, awkward orcish, a hand of long spindly fingers stretching out towards you.

You put a hand on Raka's back, the bandersnatch looking ready to howl down at the figure. It drags itself further from the depths, and you start to make out more detail. It is humanoid, ghostly pale and hairless, its features exaggerated, bulging black eyes and a narrow, ragged-lipped mouth twisted into an expression of anguish.

“Help, please,” it whimpers, dragging itself further up towards you, its pallid skin dusty and scarred.

>Nope, move campsite
>Lower a rope for it
>Wait for it to climb further up
>Raka, howl

If you wish to attempt further communication with the figure
>Write-in

>>42235474
>>Wait for it to climb further up

Then ya'know chop it's head off.

>>42235474
>>Wait for it to climb further up
Get ready for SURPRISE IT WAS A TRAP. Be it launched poison or sudden attack. But be sneaky about it, don't show off that we don't trust it more than we already do.

>>42235474
>Nope, move campsite

>Roll 1d20

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>42235596
Let's hope I don't roll a 1 again.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>42235596
1

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>42235596

>>42235474
Warlord I didn't know you went on /k/

>>42235757
I don't generally, but I do love me some creepypasta.

You've dealt with enough strange things in the past few months to see where this is going, but you play along anyway.

“I can't get to you from down there, can you climb higher?” you call.

The thing continues its ascent, ragged nails clawing at the stone, pulling itself higher and higher, its climb punctuated by more sobbing cries for help. Raka growls alongside you as you shift you set aside your axe, you doubt the bulky weapon would do you much good in the cramped confines, one hand half reaching out, while the other slips to the dwarven shortsword at your belt.

“Pl-ease,” the thing whimpers once more, pulling itself even higher, its pale eyelids twitching as it reaches up for you.

What happens next is hardly a surprise, at least not for you. The thing's look of anguish melts away in a moment, replaced with one of sadistic glee as it lunges for your outstretched hand, its ragged mouth opening wide into a great maw of pointed teeth that close to split its face in two.

Snarling, you clamp a hand around the thing's wrist before it can grab hold of you, hauling it up in one sharp motion, the thing giving a panicked shriek as it is pulled kicking and screaming out of the crevasse. Whipping the shortsword from your belt you drive it into the pallid belly of the thing, the skin blackening and the flesh bubbling around the wound as the blade's enchantments flare to life.

>Finish it
>Take it prisoner

>>42235814
>>Finish it

>>42235814
>>Finish it

>>42235814
>>Finish it

>>42235814
>Finish it

>>42235814
>Finish it

>>42235777
I can tell, better /k/ than /x/. Fucking deserts man, they're worse than NY sewers.

>>42235814
>>Finish it

>Roll 1d20

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>42235951

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>42235951
2

>>42235951

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>42235951

The fey thing screams as you wrench the blade free, lashing out with its spindly fingers, ragged claws scraping your skin as it twists free of your grip.

It starts to scrabble back towards its hole, but not quick enough to escape from you, and you slam into the creature shoulder first, driving it to the ground, pinning it down with a forearm across its spindly throat.

It lets out a strangled shriek, turning to a gurgle as you push down harder, flipping the blade around in your grip as you grin down at the thing. Its bulbous eyes widen for the split second before you bring down the shortsword, point first, punching straight through the thing's eyesocket and into the brain. It convulses, legs kicking feebly as it expires, a death rattle on its lips.

You wrench the sword free of the thing's skull, the meat still smouldering around the wound, thing wisps of dark smoke curling from the blade.

Raka snorts, padding over to sit down next to you, the fight over too quickly for the bandersnatch to even intervene. Picking yourself up you look down at the pallid corpse before you, putting your boot to its side to shove it over the edge, back into the crevasse, the fey carcass tumbling back down into the darkness.

>Now go finish setting up camp
>Push on for the ruins

>>42236095
>>Now go finish setting up camp

>>42236095
>>Now go finish setting up camp

>>42236095
>Push on for the ruins

>>42236095
>Now go finish setting up camp

>>42236095
>>Now go finish setting up camp

Ur has no time for monster bullshit.

>tfw came back in time for the meat of the thread
whew
>>42236095
>Push on to the ruins
I imagine Skor'oz Zik would appreciate keeping going for as long as we can to reach our goal. Or am I wrong, Lordy?

Man, in a generation or two Ur'Shal is going to be an exalted Demi-God considering the shit he's done and what he started with.

>>42236095
>>Now go finish setting up camp
So everything that isn't an instantly recognizable race gets called Fey.
So any other creepypastas gonna happen? Cause I like putting what I've learned here to use.

>>42236204
The shortsword reacted to it as if it was a fey, so Ur is assuming it's a fey.

>>42236204
It reacted to the anti-fey sword so it's probably a fey.

Shaking off the excess blood, you slide the shortsword back into your belt, picking up the greataxe and heading back to your campsite, Raka padding along beside you looking far happier now that the thing has been dealt with.

Setting up camp and eating your way through the last of today's meat, you have an uninterrupted night, waking in time for the first rays of light over the horizon. You should have no trouble reaching the ruin today, and with time to spare.

Pressing on, you start to make out more and more of the ruin as you draw closer, clambering over the rocky earth. It's a structure of yellow stone, set upon what was probably once a flat area of ground. At some point in the past though, an earthquake must have shifted the earth beneath it, the structure now semi-collapsed, half of its outer wall reduced to a pile of rubble, a split running through the rock beneath.

It feels oddly still as the ruin looms before you, not the eerie quiet which accompanied the Horror, but something more ancient and primal. You see a swirl of sand and dust twisting in the air despite the wind, coalescing into a vaguely orcish shape atop roof of the structure. Another appears soon after, crouching atop the tower, then a third, drawing into being atop a section of uncollapsed wall.

They watch you approach, silently staring down at you from their vantage points. Raka giving an uneasy growl as he sticks close to your side. You feel the calm fade, replaced by a warm wind, growing more intense as it whips around you, drawing up great clouds of dust, the force of it stinging at your eyes and scratching your skin.

>Stand your ground
>Push on for the ruin
>Retreat

>Push on for the ruin

Need better position.

>Push on for the ruin

>>42236345
>>Push on for the ruin
Seems like a test to me.

>>42236345
>>Stand your ground

>>42236345

>Stand your ground
that seams to be something the god of endurance/hardship would like.

>>42236345
>Stand your ground
Show respect.

>>42236345
>>Stand your ground
Endure

>>42236345
>>Stand your ground
But show respect to Skor'oz Zik, say a prayer or something, did Ku'zag not give us any advice for this part?
I'm not sure if bowing to the divine servants would be too submissive or not, on the one hand we aim for warlord status so we should only bow to the gods, on the other hand they are divine servants.
Regardless, enduring the harshness of nature and the weather is exactly what Skor'oz Zik about, this should be a test or something.
Maybe tell Raka to get back and wait for us outside of the ruins?

Standing your ground wins.

>Roll 1d20

>>42236482
Ku'zag's advice was basically "be respectful but don't show weakness".

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>42236518

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>42236518

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>42236518

>>42236523
nice

File: #1.jpg (47 KB, 577x617)

47 KB JPG

>>42236533

>>42236518
>be respectful
We didn't just barge into their ruins, check.
>don't show weakness
We didn't run away from a little breeze, check.
I think we should be fine.

>>42236538
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcBLX4v8rfw&spfreload=10

You jerk your head to the side, gesturing for Raka to head back, but the bandersnatch stubbornly sits down alongside you. Snorting, you turn your attention forward once more, standing your ground against the stinging dust, the intensity of the wind growing ever stronger as sharp grains of sand slice at your skin, opening tiny cuts across every exposed part of your body.

Still you endure, growling out a simple prayer to Skor'oz Zik, one you remember the old shaman teaching you many years ago. The wind whips around you, scarring you, a shapeless force trying to drive you back, to cow you into submission, and you stand strong against it.

As quickly as it started, you feel the wind dying away, wiping the sand and dust from your eyes as you blink the haze from your sight. The air still swirls around you, whipped into a frenzy, but you and Raka stand amidst it untouched, a circular tunnel opening before you.

The two of you walk through the howling dust storm, past the outer walls of the ruin, barely visible through the obscuring winds, to the great doorway of the inner structure, the door long since crumbled away.

(cont)

>>42236731
You step through into the cool darkness of the ruin, glancing back at the path you walked to find it sealed by the swirling dust. You look around as your eyes adjust, you don't know what this building was, some outpost perhaps, from Izannia's people. Furniture lies strewn about the floor, worn and smashed, great grey roots pushing up through the ground to wind around the thick stone pillars which hold up the roof. One of the pillars lies shattered and toppled, a great ragged hole through to the storm beyond visible where the heavy stone smashed through the outer wall.

Raka sniffs at the floor, padding about, giving a snort as he nudges at something with his snout. You pick your way over to him, watching as he claws aside a fallen table, revealing old bones, picked clean and bleached by time.

Frowning, you start to shift aside more of the furniture scattered across the floor, unveiling more bones, orcish bones, chipped and cracked as if fallen to violence. As you pick your way through the detritus of the ruin, you come across something else, a trapdoor, pinned half-open by a thick tree root winding its way up through the gap. You think you could just about squeeze through, if you were so inclined, or you could continue your search up here, perhaps to the door at the back of this chamber, which you would guess leads to the tower.

>Investigate the tower
>Go down the trapdoor

>>42236345
>>Push on for the ruin

>>42236747
>>Investigate the tower

>>42236747
>Go down the trapdoor

>>42236747
>>Investigate the tower
If something is hidden or sacred here, it's likely underground, which means we should leave that for last.

>>42236747
>>Investigate the tower
tower first

>>42236747
>>Investigate the tower

>>42236747
>>Investigate the tower

Löwenbräu is a pretty alright beer, I think, it's cheap and tastes good enough for casual drinking.

>>42236975
forgot to actually ask my question.
Do you have it over in Bongland, Lordy?
Do you drink at all while questing?

>>42236747
>>Investigate the tower
easy things we can quickly run away from first

>>42236988
If we do have Löwenbräu over here, I've never personally encountered it.

I don't tend to drink much these days, gone are my university days of liver-petrifying alcoholism. I definitely don't drink more than one while QMing, because I know that looking back at the thread afterwards would aggravate my perfectionist streak.

You cross the room, crunching over splintered wood and bone, heading for the door at the back, hanging ajar on rusted hinges. It opens with a creak, revealing a set of spiral stairs winding up into the tower.

You step the orcish bones at the foot of the stairs, the skull cracked from some heavy impact, a rusting axe lying beside it. Picking your way up the stairs, finding more scattered bones as you climb, you reach a chamber at its peak. It's a strange room, the walls lined with shelves holding crumbling books and strange objects of glass and copper, a silver cage holding the skeletal remains of some large bird hanging from a hook above. The heavy tables in the centre of the room are overturned, made into a makeshift barricade, one which was overwhelmed, judging by the orcish bones scattered about behind the cracked barrier.

You glance around the room, but you have little idea of what any of the things in it are, the books, at least the ones which don't turn to dust as soon as you pick them up, are penned in some non-orcish language, probably human, but you couldn't say for sure.

>Roll 1d20

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>42237101
shit

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>42237101
3

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>42237101

>>42237101
Seems like a mage tower

>deep beneath the ruin sits a sole orc
>his skin wrinkled and dry, his body covered in dust
>roots and branches have grown around him and encased him in place
>he is the last priest of Skor'oz Zik of the kingdom, who has lived in this ruin without moving since before the fall of the kingdom, without eating or drinking or moving a single inch beside breathing
>today is the die the priest dies, and the day he has graced someone with his words in decades
/fanfic

Rummaging through the books and items across the walls for something of value, you find a collection of tomes. You can't read them any more than the rest, but some of the symbols look familiar from the scrolls and tomes owned by Bra'kur and the various slave sorcerers of your clan.

You carefully place the tomes in a pouch, wrapped up in cloth, for all you know they're useless, but until you get back and show them to someone who can read them, you won't know for sure. Aside from that though, the tower proves to be remarkably dull, its occupants long dead and its contents either worn away or inscrutable.

You pick your way back down the stairs with your prize, leaving the tower behind you as you make for the trap door. Pulling it fully open, you peer down, a flight of stairs leading off into the stony earth of the waste. It's a tight fit past the root, but you just about manage to squeeze through, Raka scrabbling in after you with an irritable snort.

The air down here is cool, the sound of the dust storm beyond the ruin growing faint as you follow the stairs down. This is no mere basement, the stairs delving deep into the earth, far below the surface, more of the thick grey roots piercing the walls of the stairway, twisting and curling around the tunnel. Eventually you reach the foot of the stairs into a large open chamber, the ceiling half caved in, what remains held up by rickety stone pillars and the ever-present roots. The whole thing creaks as you step in, bringing dust down on your head, you do not think it would be wise to cause too much damage down here, lest you end up buried under countless tons of rock.

Still, you think you can see a way through, squeezing through under the roots and past the collapsed stone. Alternatively, you spot a set of doors opposite the staircase, eaiser to reach, but looking strangely warped, the wood of them blistered and misshapen.

>Squeeze under the pillars to the far side of the chamber
>Head for the warped door

Got to step out for a bit as per usual, back within an hour or so.

>>42237336
Could've written that last line a lot better, like
>today is the day he speaks, for the first time in a long time
>today is the day he dies
but still better.
>>42237391
>>Squeeze under the pillars to the far side of the chamber
That warped door looks too much like something abyssal, and we aren't in an environment where we can fight without fearing the ceiling collapsing in on us.

>>42237391
>>Squeeze under the pillars to the far side of the chamber
Less chance of a fight. We'll check out the door after we look through the place that may collapse.

>>42237391
>>Squeeze under the pillars to the far side of the chamber

>>42237391
>>Squeeze under the pillars to the far side of the chamber

>>42237391
>>Squeeze under the pillars to the far side of the chamber
let's not cause the door to collapse the rest of the room

>>42237391
>>Squeeze under the pillars to the far side of the chamber

Back and writing.

Ignoring the warped door, you pick your way carefully across the floor, ducking under roots and stepping over fallen chunks of ceiling as you squeeze your way past the collapsed section of the chamber. Raka pads along behind you, finding it no easier than you do to squeeze his bulky form through the narrow gaps.

Clambering through to the other side, you step out into a corner of the chamber left undamaged, the pillar pinned in place by a particularly thick growth of vines. Another doorway stands in the corner, the door split open by the root growths snaking through it. Even here you find more orcish bones, cracked and broken, though none look to have been caught by the fallen masonry, perhaps whatever battle claimed their lives came after this place had already begun to fall apart.

(cont)

>>42238249
Raka's ears prick up as you continue down the tunnel, and it isn't long before you hear it too, a tapping sound, slow and rhythmic, like something solid striking wood. The tunnel opens out once more into another chamber, this one more wood than stone, the walls swallowed up by the strange plant growth, the tangled mass coming together into a thick trunk at the room's centre, a great gnarled mass that stretches up into the ceiling far above, lost in the canopy of roots.

The tapping sound is all the more clear here, echoing down from above, squinting up into the darkness, you make out a shape high amidst the canopy, great spindly legs and a long body plated in deep grey chitin. The tapping stops as you step into the room, the roots shuddering as the creature scuttles across the wooden mass, trailing sap as it goes.

It rears up before you, clinging to a thick knot of plantlife. It's huge, larger than you are, with six legs and a segmented body. Its front two legs rise up aggressively, twitching as it jabs at the air before it, the limbs ending in sharpened points, its head swivelling as its great compound eyes fix on you, the creature letting out an annoyed hiss. It's still out of reach of your axe right now, clinging to the roots as it is, but it looks ready to strike at a moment's notice.

>Throwing knife
>Intimidate
>Hold your ground and wait
>Back out into the tunnel

>>42238268
Either hold our ground or back away

>>42238268
>>Throwing knife

>>42238268
>>Hold your ground and wait

>>42238268
>Hold your ground and wait

Writing.

Remember that we have yet to use our fancy gloves.
Lordy, I forgot, did we have one of our orcs use the enchanted string during the harpy raid? If so, we took it back from him afterwards, right?

>>42238811
Yes and yes.

You stand, gripping the axe tight as the creature looms above you, hissing and clicking, sap dripping from the sharpened points of its forelimbs. Raka snarls as it takes a step forward, then another, your muscles tensing in anticipation as it rears up over you, almost within reach of your axe.

Then with one jerking motion, the thing backs away further up the root, turning and scurrying off into the canopy of the roof. You suppose it wasn't all that eager for a fight after all, just territorial posturing. Snorting, you push on further into the room, brushing aside the thinner branches and squeezing through the thicker ones. The chamber is vast, stretching out in all directions, and it's hard to say what it must have once been meant for. Unlike all the other rooms, this one lacks the cracked bones and long-past bloodshed of the rest of the ruin, what remains of the tiled floor not swallowed up by the roots is smooth black marble tiles, scuffed and cracked.

Raka sniffs the air, giving a strange half-growl, ears twitching as he squeezes between a pair of heavy roots, looking back at you as he goes. Shrugging, you follow the fey warbeast, snapping one of the branches to ease your passage deeper into the tangle.

You find the bandersnatch sat at the foot of the great trunk, a chaotic mass of thin roots winding off from it in all directions, he stares back at you, snorting, before turning his attention back towards the tangled vines. You step up alongside him, eyeing the nondescript bit of tree which seems to have caught his attention, looking it up and down. It looks the same as the rest of the roots at first glance, until you notice something poking out between the tangled mass at the floor, a blade of orcish make, chipped and worn. It looks nothing special from the part you can see of it, solidly built, but no better than the dozens of other blades you've looted from tombs.

>Pick up the blade
>Break through the roots in front of you

>>42238984
>>Pick up the blade

>>42238984
>>Break through the roots in front of you

>>42238984
>Pick up the blade.

>>42238984
>>Pick up the blade

>>42238984
>Pick up the blade

>>42238984
>>Pick up the blade

>>42238984
>>Break through the roots in front of you

>>42238984
>>Pick up the blade

>>42238984
>Break through the roots in front of you

>>42238984
>Break through
DON'T JUST PICK UP THE BLADE
It might be sealing or holding something back that we don't want to release!

Going for the blade wins.

>Roll 1d20

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>42239167
5

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>42239015
>>42239050
>>42239072
>>42239076
>>42239105
>>42239118
Retards, this isn't the excalibur.
>>42239167
Give us what we deserve

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>42239167

>>42239187
Saved

>>42239186
If it wasn't Excalibur why would we be prompted to pick it up?

>>42239182
I'm in awe

>>42239255
Hwve you heard of this recent invention called a trap? No, not the feminine/androgynous male dressed in feminine/androgynous clothes, the other one.

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>>42239371

You crouch down, reaching for the hilt of the blade. Gripping it tight, you pull, grunting as you strain to dislodge it from the mass of roots grown around it. The roots shake as you twist it free, pulling it free with one hard tug, cracking a root and bringing a shower of bark and splinters down on you.

Raka cocks his head, eyes still glued to the roots before you as you stand back up, turning the blade around in your hand. It's a good blade, despite its age, chipped and dented by countless battles and worn down by time, it's got good balance to it, feeling light and comfortable in your grip.

The roots shake again, the wood creaking as another rain of dust and bark is brought down on your head. Frowning, you brush away the mess, looking back at the roots before you.

With a creak, a root splits, then another, as if something is tearing its way free from within. Growling, you slip the blade into your belt as the roots start to bend outwards, creaking and groaning from the strain. Then with a sudden crash, a section of the roots splinter outwards, a green-skinned arm lunging out, grabbing at the air where your throat was a split second before as you step back readying your axe.

The arm flops down, tugging at the roots as it starts to pry them apart, the skin a patchwork of old scars.

“That's mine, give it back,” a rough, croaking voice growls in orcish from the depths of the roots, the tangled mass buckling out further.

>Return the blade
>Refuse
>Attack

>>42239424
>>Return the blade
"Good but worn blade. I take only that which has no owner, I am not a grave robber." or some shit.

>>42239424
>Return the blade
>"Sorry about that, didn't realize it had an owner."

>>42239467
This.

>>42239463
We are most definitely a grave robber though.
>>42239424
>tfw my fanfic turned out to be spot on well okay moet likely not spot on, this guy might be hostile, or he might not die today and join us instead or something I guess, or something else that I haven't thought of
Glorious day!
He seems pretty okay in the head, so
>Return it

>>42239424
>>Refuse

>>42239424
>>Return the blade

>>42239424
>Refuse
Finders keepers niggas

>>42239532
Meant to type just robber. Graveyard added itself in because brain.

Returning it wins.

Writing.

>old croaking voice, the owner of which simply tears up roots and the tree itself with his bear hands, nearly got our throat without seeing us
>tfw we found another badass grandpa
Ku'zag, Or'kug, Vor'zal, and now this guy.
Old orcs are hardcore, guess it's no wonder they managed to live to their age.
I hope Ur'shal will manage to be even cooler once he's old.

So has this guy been fucking a tree the whole time?

“Didn't realize it had an owner,” you grunt, pulling the blade from your belt, turning it around and handing it hilt-first to the figure.

The arm gropes around blindly for a few moments before you nudge the handle against the fingertips, the hand clamping down around the blade. With the blade in hand, the figure starts prying their way loose with greater speed, sawing and hacking at the roots around them, the other hand appearing as it tears apart another root.

You take a step back, raising an eyebrow as the figure within the roots starts to push their way into view. Much of them is still obscured by roots, and the great tangled mass of black hair which drags along the ground. Despite the croaking voice, the figure that pushes free of the mass is most assuredly not female. Scarred and dusty, she must have been in there for a long time, but despite that she looks little older than you. She stares at you, one eye visible from beneath her fringe as she shakes her head, the wild tangle of hair scattering bark, dust and insect life in all directions.

“Got any water?” she croaks, snapping aside the final root as she steps out into the open.

>Give her some water
>First tell me who you are

>>42239751
>Give her some water

>>42239532
You were right on about half of your fanfiction at least.

>>42239751
>Give her some water

>>42239751
>assuredly not female
>Give her some water.

>>42239751
>most assuredly not female

WHAT HAVE WE UNCOVERED

>>42239751
>>Give her some water

Also did you "most assuredly female" instead of "most assuredly not female"?

>>42239751
>>Give her some water

>>42239811
>>42239815
Wow, that is an awful mistake.

Yes, she's female.

>>42239751
>Give some
Rule for the traveller, never deny another water if you have enough to share, for another might deny it from you during your hardest hour.

Writing.

Damn it, no new cool grandpa.
Ah well, she seems interesting enough as well, conaidering the circumstances.
How much longer are you running for, Lordy?

>>42239958
Dunno, a few more hours probably.

Lordy, are there boons that could make an orc appear significantly younger than their actual age?
There's no way this chick is actually around Ur'shal's age, and has significant favor with Skor'oz Zik, and has experienced many battles, and has gear, AND has been sitting here long enough for a tree/plant spanning dozens if no hundreds of miles to grow around her.

>>42240078
Not that you know of, but you do recall Ku'zag saying that Skor'oz Zik's magic could allow someone to hibernate, slowing the aging process to halt.

>>42240078
Meant to say meters, not miles

>>42240111
Ah, that explains it then.
Still, kinda young for a priestess(which I assume she is).
Pretty nice though, should have some juicy info about the past of this area.
Also possibly have a real backed up libido, which is fun if she seems like she'd make a good addition to the harem, especially since Ur is also a bit, if sinificantly less so than she is, backed up.
I expect her to expect us to help clear out these ruins of whatever warped the wood of that one doorway first, however. I believe that hobopriests are the kind who put pleasure at the end of their to-do lists.

>>42240111
nice trips
>>42240219
Is that just how we're goig to refer to priests in a casual context from now? hobopriest? slutpriest? smithpriest? thiefpriest? huntpriest? flamepriest?

You pass your waterskin over, the orc woman jamming the blade into a root as she takes it from you, sweeping aside her hair and gulping the liquid down greedily. You frown a little as you realize she's probably going to drink the whole thing, but she stops short of doing so, coughing as she passes the waterskin back to you.

“Thanks, mouth tastes like I've been sleeping in a tree for the past few years, who'd of thought,” she coughs, her voice losing the edge of its croak, though it remains deep and husky.

“No problem, how long were you down there for anyway?” you grunt, as she pries the blade free of the root, shaking her hair once more with an annoyed growl.

“Don't know, who's the orcish king?” she asks, grabbing a handful of her great mass of tangled hair and sawing at it with the blade just below the shoulder.

“That long, huh? The kingdom fell fifteen years ago,” you shrug.

She pauses her efforts, giving a vague 'hmm', before she gets right back to hacking at her hair.

“Longer than I'd planned to sleep then, you know the Bloody Tusk Clan?”

You shrug, watching as she continues her assault on the shaggy mane of hair.

“They were supposed to be here, or at least near here,” she explains, cutting loose another great handful of hair.

You frown, recalling the many bones strewn around the ruin, something tells you that you may have met the Bloody Tusks after all.

“There's a lot of bones out there, I think your clan may be gone,” you explain, the woman giving a snarl as she saws at a particularly thick knot of hair.

“Not my clan. Well, can't be helped when I oversleep,” she shrugs, cutting off the last handful of hair, shaking her head again as she sweeps back the more manageable mane of hair hanging to her shoulders.

(cont)

>>42240429
She turns to you at last, giving you a tusky smirk as she extends a hand, the patch of scar tissue just under her left eye giving her a slight squint, her eyes sharp and dark.

“Aza'ra, of no clan in particular, priestess of Skor'oz Zik, who're you?”

“Ur'shal, Chieftain of the Stonetusk Clan,” you reply, the two of you gripping forearms in greeting.

“Aren't you a little young to be a chieftain?” she asks, her grip strong as the two of you stand locked in greeting.

“Aren't you a little young to be a priestess?”

“That's what my mentor said too, but stubbornness is one of my many virtues,” Aza'ra snorts, releasing her grip.

“...and burying axes in the heads of cowardly chieftains is one one of mine.”

“That's a virtue I think we can all appreciate,” she snorts, looking around, staring up at the insectile shape still lurking amidst the canopy far above.

“So what're you doing here without your clan, chieftain?”

“My scouts spotted some Dust Devils, figured I'd make the journey alone, show Skor'oz Zik I was willing to make the effort,” you explain, as Raka pads up to Aza'ra, ears perked up as he stares up at her.

“Huh, those old divine servants are still around? Figured they'd have run off by now. Well, we down here talking for a reason? I want to go see the sun, it's been a while.”

>Ask her to check the other door in the ruins with you first
>Sure, time to leave
>Other (write-in)

>>42240449
>>Ask her to check the other door in the ruins with you first
Ask her why she was in the tree.

>>42240449
>>Ask her to check the other door in the ruins with you first

>>42240449
>Sure, time to leave

>>42240449
>>Ask her to check the other door in the ruins with you first

>>42240449
>>Ask her to check the other door in the ruins with you first

>>42240449
>>Ask her to check the other door in the ruins with you first
Gotta clear out the ruin 1st, might have something nice for the clan to use.

Writing.

yes got back before you finished!

“There's still part of this ruin I haven't explored yet, want to make sure there isn't anything in it that could be useful for my clan,” you grunt.

“Oh? Suppose I do owe you,” she nods, stepping past you to the tunnel, twisting her neck as she works out some of her aches from her long sleep, the bones popping.

You follow along after the priestess. Despite her dusty, bark-covered state, she's still pleasing to look at, her scarred body tall and athletic. While she lacks Ya'zada's powerful musculature, she's still in good shape, the muscles tense beneath the skin as she walks. Raka give a snort, and you glance down at the bandersnatch, his snout twitching as he gives you a knowing look. It has been a few days now...

“So they died defending this place, strange,” Aza'ra comments, nudging at the bones with her toes as you step back out into the chamber.

“Looks that way, there's more upstairs. Why were you in that tree anyway?”

“Got in a fight with something, it didn't go too well for me,” Aza'ra shrugs, turning back to face you, tapping her finger to a long, nasty scar along the side of her stomach.

“Which means I almost died. The Bloody Tusks owed me, so I told them to watch over me while I slept and healed. Guess I was hurt worse than I thought though, to sleep this long.”

“What were you fighting anyway?” you ask, crouching down as you clamber back under the fallen section of ceiling.

“Something abyssal. It looked stupid, so I underestimated it. A good reminder of why my god loathes carelessness,” she sighs, as the two of you emerge on the far side of the fallen section, the priestess glancing at the warped door.

(cont)

>>42241089
“This is it,” you grunt, nodding at it, the two of you walking to take a closer look.

“Looks like acid damage, maybe some sort of monster, hard to say,” Aza'ra comments, poking her fingertips against the blistered wood.

“Well, let's find out,” you grunt, pushing the door open, or rather trying to push the door open, only to have it fall apart in your hand.

The two of you peer through into the darkness, an acrid stench hitting you as the musty air of the room beyond drifts out to meet you. The walls and floor of the chamber beyond are pitted with molten sections, a great hole torn into the ceiling up above.

“Looks like something tunnelled its way in, and made quite a mess doing it. I suppose this must be its nest,” Aza'ra shrugs, ducking under the doorframe as she steps through into the chamber, looking around.

You pick your way through after her, wrinkling your nose as the stink burns at your nostrils. Mounds of filth dot the floor, the furniture that once sat here melted away. Squinting deeper into the room, you spot a pile of glinting metal pushed up against one wall, perhaps things too hardy for the creature to melt.

>Nah, not worth it
>Go check out the hole
>Go check out the pile of metal

>>42241104
>>Go check out the pile of metal
Keep an eye on that hole though.

>>42241104
>>Go check out the pile of metal

>>42241104
>Go check out the pile of metal
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

>>42241104
>>Go check out the pile of metal

>>42241104
>>Nah, not worth it

>>42241104
>Go check out the pile of metal

Writing.

She might know how to read these books we have.

>protect the books, leave them behind in the fight since its an acidic creature

>>42241680
Oh yeah, this.

Keeping an eye on the hole, you make your way across the chamber, flanked by Aza'ra and Raka. The pile of gleaming metal stands out against the filth of the chamber, the stink of waste and acrid chemicals.

Most of it is garbage, old frames, chunks of shredded armor, old pots and bent weapons, still amidst the junk you spot a few items of more promise. You nod down at some of the buried items, taking hold of one of the larger pieces atop it, holding it up while Aza'ra fishes the prizes out of the pile.

A couple of orcish swords, one curved, one a more heavy chopping blade, both sharing a similar design on the pommel, the metal shaped like some coiled scorpion, an iron armlet covered in orcish runes, dedicating it to 'Ko'zar Yur, whoever that is, and a sealed tube, the contents rattling around within.

You slowly lower the top of the pile back down as Aza'ra retieves the items, avoiding any large clatter, a single old coin clinking off of the pile, spinning to a stop on the floor. You and Aza'ra freeze, Raka turning his gaze to the hole up above as a loud screech echoes down it.

“I think it heard us. Suppose it's time to see if I've gotten rusty,” the priestess smirks, giving the blade a couple of practice swings as you listen to the sound of countless legs closing in.

>End of Thread

Thank you all for playing, hope you all enjoyed meeting your first orcish divine spellcaster who wasn't a scary grandpa, and I can hang around for some Q&A for a while if anyone has anything to ask.

>>42241680
>>42241802
Oops, I'd already written it, but okay, we'll assume you left the bag with the books in back in the main chamber.

>>42241972
Woo hoo, QT Hobos, bugs, and Raka best hound
>When we were stalked by that crag lion pride, did Raka have his way with the females after we'd killed the alpha?

>>42242077
Of course, that's what put him in a good mood for the rest of the day.

No questions then, okay, thread's archived here:

>http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Orc%20Warlord

See you all next time.

>>42242605
What would have happened if we took the fey prisoner instead of stabbing him at the beginning of the thread?

>>42242820
You would've gotten a very difficult prisoner who would've tried to break free and murder you in your sleep the first chance he got.

Really you made the right choice with that thing, it was a far less friendly fey than Vaki.

>>42242862
I got a Gollum feel from it.

>>42242862
Was the abyssal that hit Aza'ra the same thing that we were following?

>>42243282
Probably, though it's not a sure thing given that all things abyssal look pretty damn stupid.