STATUS:
Sorry for my lack of posts lately. I've just... been struggling to get the energy to write something up. I'm trying some new meds through so hopefully that will change soon.
7 yrs ago
Current
Sorry for my lack of posts lately. I've just... been struggling to get the energy to write something up. I'm trying some new meds through so hopefully that will change soon.
While Bartolomeo didn't get an immediate answer about if anyone knew about witches, after a few moments at least two voices had risen to either question him about it... or offer a point that would help explain why he had asked the question he had. Deciding to answer two questions at once, Bartolomeo gestured towards the woman who was hanging rather close to the bar whom had mentioned the idea of rituals as he answered the tavern owner "See, that's what I was thinking. This wasn't just some mindless beast slaughtering everyone, this was done with some dark goal in mind. Personally, I don't know enough about these kinds of things to judge what that goal was, but I'm worried that it might have been some kind of demonic summoning. Having a demonic entity running around slaughtering villages seems like something that's above a lot of our abilities..."
Looking somewhat nervous at his own idea, the young hunter took a moment to down the rest of his glass and waited until he had swallowed before attempting to speak again. "As much as I hate to suggest this, did we actually confirm that all the residents of Goldencrest were accounted for? While some of the advice I've read about those who convert with demons is... questionable at best, the threat betrayal from within does make some sense. I mean, all it would take is some poor bugger coming across something in the woods that man wasn't meant to know about and suddenly he's got voices in his head telling him that all he needs to achieve everything he ever wanted and could dream of is to gut the local priest and nail him to a cross..."
........................................
While much of Draco's face was covered by his mask, his eyes betrayed a degree of sorrow as he heard the grim tidings from Bobby. Reaching up to remove his hat and place it against his chest in a moment of silent respect, he didn't say anything as the tavern seemed to fill with snippets of information about what had trespassed and theories of what it could mean. Removing his hat from his chest, he placed it on the bar itself as he watched the large wolf like dog get nudged by Bobby to go find a new spot to rest at.
"I am sorry for your loss Bobby. I'm not sure how well you knew them, but with how close they were to Seren's Folly I'm sure you knew a couple of faces from Goldencrest that will no longer be visiting. I'm more then happy to throw in my hat to find out what the hell happened, there is something I need to ask you about first." While sympathetic, Draco still had business he came to the village to attend to of his own after all.
"Has anyone in Seren's Folly or the surrounding area encountered a chimera like beast? Some kind of creature that's made up of several creatures that shouldn't naturally exist? While it sounds like whatever happened in Goldencrest isn't a beast attack... I'm not going to rule out what brought me here as unrelated just yet..."
Draco had never really been a hunter who had kept pets or animal companions. This wasn't because he didn't see the value in them; Far from it. On more then one occasion a dog had picked up a scent that saved him and others from ambushes or sped up the tracking of the quarry tremendously. The issues were raised between the fact that he traveled vast distances rather often because the job required him to almost always be traveling to deal with the next monster... and the tragic fact that a fair number of dogs he had tried to keep in the past had ended up as monster food.
Still, under his cloth mask he couldn't help but grin a little as he bent down to give the excited puppy in the stables some scratches behind the ears before moving on to secure his own horse in one of the stalls. There was always something about dogs that tended to bring out the best in people.
Still, once the dog had been patted and his horse stored away safely he turned to enter the Witches Paradise proper. Door opening with a wooden creak, he crossed the threshold and glanced around at those who were gathered while feeling an air of... not defeat or fear, but concern in the atmosphere.
Closing the door behind him, the masked man calmly and collectedly walked over to the bar, offering Bobby a polite nod of his head as he asked "Lodgings for one Bobby. What's happened?" It was a simple question, but the look in his eyes reveled that he knew something had gone down... the matter was in the details.
This hadn't been the first time that Draco had visited Seren's Folly; Far from it in fact. The Russ family had made a habit of visiting the town whenever they were traveling in this part of the world since it was a good place to meet up with their peers while collecting clues and hints about creatures that needed to be hunted while trading information that might prove useful for hunters who specialized in a different breed of the horrors of the night.
This time however Draco wasn't there for a friendly visit or just a passing stay.
Several of his prior hunts had shared a common theme, even if the animals themselves tended to be vastly different from each other; Beasts and creatures from the local area that had been fused together into one, deadly beast that nature had never intended to exist and didn't fit into the natural order of things. The fact that he had encountered several such creatures in different locations acted as a red flag in Draco's experienced mind. Having taken a map and marked down where the beasts had been found, a pattern had presented itself... one that led towards Seren's Folly.
It seemed like as good a place to set up a base camp while he pursued his investigations.
However, as he rode his horse into the town and made his way along the streets towards the tavern to secure himself lodgings he couldn't help but notice a familiar tension in the air. It was the kind of general worry that filled a town when a house on the outskirts had been found with its door broken through and the family who lived there ripped apart by some kind of beast that was bigger, stronger and nastier then a bear.
Something had happened here... or at least nearby.
Face mask covering his face, Draco dismounted from his horse as he lead her into the tavern stable to find somewhere nice for her to sit and rest.
Seated at a table in Witches Paradise, Bartolomeo Peckish looked a lot healthier then he had when he had returned with the hunter pack that had gone to Goldencrest Village. Those hunters whom had been there with him would have known exactly why the young man had looked sick; It was because he had been. The sights and smells at Goldencrest had proven somewhat to harsh for someone who had clearly just started on the path of being a hunter without having been born into the realities of the profession. After he had found relief (Ie, thrown up) from the sights of the carnage, he had maintained a fast and a sickly green color until he had managed to get an hour or two away from the smoldering ruins of what had once been a prosperous people and their homes.
Now seated in the relatively comfort and somewhat less repulsive sight and smells of Witches Paradise, the young man had taken to sipping from a wine glass that he had filled with a bottle of wine he had brought with him to the village when he had arrived a few days ago, his attention focused on the book in his heads as he read each page fully before turning to try and pry whatever information he could from the next.
Those interested would have easily been able to tell from the cover that it was a just one of several demonology handbooks that the catholic church had produced on mass to equip its demon hunters and exorcists with information on how to combat the devil and his demonic servants; More experienced and veteran hunters would no doubt know from personal experience that a lot of what those books had to say was largely self serving political bullshit... but either by luck or the writers actually knowing something for a change they tended to have the odd bit of useful information.
In this case however, Bartolomeo clearly wasn't finding what he needed. Sighing as he closed the book, he decided to pose a question to the tavern at large. "Are there any hunters here who know anything about demons?"
Appearance: Standing at around six feet, four inches (give or take) results in Draco normally being the tallest in the crowd (Through he has encountered several people taller then himself). He has often been told that he has the broad shoulders and slim physic to be a natural born swimmer. His white skin is quite pale due to his somewhat nocturnal lifestyle, through it does match his blue eyes and brown-blonde hair rather nicely.
There was once a time where Draco was a handsome young man that could make a young woman's heart swoon; That ended during his first hunt. A misstep while dodging resulted in a werewolf leaving him without a nose and a monstrous looking scar running sideways across the middle of his face. He will normally wear a cloth mask that covers the lower part of his face to cover this horrible scarring up.
Age: Appears to be in his Early to Mid Twenties (24 to be exact)
Personality: Life has turned Draco into a highly cynical, jaded man who struggles with nihilism; He wants to believe that there is some kind of god or at least some purpose to all the pain and suffering that he has gone through but he just can't and it causes him to suffer bursts of depression and anger.
Despite this through, he can still recognize when someone else is having a hard time and it is hard for him not to feel some sort of empathy and desire to help them. There are times when he hates the fact that he is such a caring soul because there have been plenty of times where trying to be the nice, understanding guy has only resulted in him getting hurt but deep down he wouldn't have it any other way.
History: Much like many other hunter clans, the Russ family have a long and proud tradition of prowling the night to stalk and destroy those that would threaten the innocent and defenseless; Unlike many of their peers through it was rare for them to go out into the night with the intentions of hunting down a witch. The Russ family favored hunting the supernatural beast of the night, such as werewolves and the like.
Draco was raised in the somewhat abusive shadow of his father Johnathan, one of the most strong willed and stubborn hunters the family had ever produced. After a lifetime of hunting beasts, Johnathan lost both of his shins to a werewolf and was told by a doctor that he would never walk again; Six months after having his feet sewn onto where his knees should have been, Johnathan walked right up to that doctor and punched him in the kidneys despite his massive loss of height.
When Draco went out on his first werewolf hunt he slipped up, growing overconfident during the battle with the beast and gave it all the opening it needed to try and rip his face off with a swipe; The loss of his nose and the ugly scar across his face is a permanent reminder of the dangers of overconfidence.
Signature Weapon:
A custom weapon created by the Russ family, the saw-cleaver is designed to be used against large, quick moving beasts that can heal from injuries at an accelerated rate by being light, sturdy and able to inflect large, nasty wounds that are hard to heal even for the supernatural. The blade itself is a fusion of silver and steel and is often cleaned/coated with a wolfsbane elixir before every hunt.
Things they look for in a partner: Draco wants to meet a woman that can make him happy and who can look past the fact that fact that he is a horribly scarred person (in the physical, mental and spiritual sense).
Rank: High Ranked Acolyte
Appearance: A well educated young man with blond hair whom has clearly come from a higher class (likely noble) family, Bartolomeo lacks the scars and markings of someone who does physical labor for a living. His skin and weight appear to be completely healthy and the look in his eyes are devoid of the hardships that haunt the thoughts of others, suggesting a boy who has never had to experience hardship before in his life.
The fact that his clothing appears new and well made is more then enough to suggest that he comes from money, but he is almost always seen with a book of some kind on his person. As he walks, he is always seen carrying a silver coated cane that rattles whenever he planted it on the ground, reveling to all those who can hear and have experience with such things that it is a sword cane that he carries because it is a gentleman's weapon rather then because he needs it to help him move around. While traveling, he will always be wearing a fine pair of brown leather gloves on his hands, matching the rest of his outfit rather fashionably.
Poking out of his shirt pocket he will generally have a stem of pressed and dried out lavender, it's pleasant scent still lingering long after the process was made to preserve it.
Age: 16
Personality: Bartolomeo Peckish is a relatively polite young man who has clearly been brought up to understand that he was born into a class of people that was... honestly, just plain and simply better then the classes lower then him. This doesn't mean that he looked down on the lower classes like some nobles did however; For him, being noble born just means that he was born with the potential to do more then most and thus it was his duty as noble to step up and improve the world around him.
Exactly how he came to the conclusion that the best way to serve mankind was by becoming a hunter is somewhat unclear, but if asked directly his answer will generally betray the fact that he appeared to have been raised on stories of the great and mighty beast hunter, slaying packs of supernatural creatures and earning the hand of a beautiful princess and half a kingdom for their troubles; His decision seems motivated by a mixture of hero worship and a desire to set himself and any children he may have up for generations to come.
While it is clear that all of his information on the supernatural have come from books rather then personal experience or proper teachings from a mentor, it is clear that the reason he has come to Seren's Folly is to find one or more hunters who would be able to give him the education that he lacks.
History: Being born as the fifth, youngest child (and forth boy) of the Peckish family ensured that while Bartolomeo would grow up in an environment where he would be safe from such things as starvation or hard work, he was doomed to a future where bar some outlandish twists of fortune and fate he would be unlikely to inherit anything substantial from his father. He wasn't even in a position to be a useful spare in the event that his eldest brother died he had at least two other older brothers ready and able to step in.
Since he was practically a waste of time and resources to bother investing the training required to manage the families lands or fulfill its duties for the higher nobility, Bartolomeo's education was largely left to the family priest with the idea that he would seek to make a living in the church... but he had other ideas. Finding a number of books about hunting the foul creatures that stalked mankind and lurked in the night (and the rewards one could get for doing so), he made the decision to become a hunter to secure a future for himself while being of service to mankind. It was a noble quest to be sure and his father easily approved of it since... well, either his youngest son would earn a successful future for himself while bringing honor and glory to the family name or he would die and thus no longer be a lose end to the succession.
Given some good equipment and directions towards a town that would offer him the best chance to learn what it meant to be a hunter, Bartolomeo Peckish took to the road to get to Seren's Folly with high hopes and dreams of the future.
Signature Weapon: It's rather hard to miss Bartolomeo's silver plated swordcane since the shine of the silver itself tends to draw the eye to it. The blade itself is just normal steel however, through it is clearly well made.
Things they look for in a partner: He is a romantic at heart... but a romantic that would prefer a woman of higher class/noble birth like himself to save himself a lot of heart ache and hardship.
Rank: Novice
Witch
Appearance: Due to the nature of Pandor's signature power, no one actually know what his original face, form or even gender is for certain. Whatever it might have been, he seems to prefer being male since that will generally be the gender he falls back to and generally uses the most. While the flesh and body might change, what remains consistent is the red hood and the white mask that he wears when he isn't pretending to be someone else.
Age: Impossible to tell from appearance alone, but he's actually in his mid twenties age wise.
Personality: Pandor is one of nature's actors and thus it is really difficult to pin down a personalty... at least, pinning down what his actual personalty might be. Some suspect even he doesn't fully know what kind of person he is at heart, since when someone asked him what it was like to be a shape shifter he answered "You have to be careful. You spend too long pretending to be other people and sooner or later you'll forget who you're meant to be when you're not wearing the mask."
While he would never admit it, the reason he wears his trademark mask when he isn't required to pretend to be something else is because he no longer remembers what he originally looked like and the mask... comforts him. It gives him a sense of identity that when the mask is on, he is himself. As such, he will come down on anyone who tries to steal or damage his mask with anger and furious vengeance that will be shift and brutal. Even allowing someone to touch his mask is an act of trust that goes beyond words for him.
History: Pandor has told numerous tales of his origins. He has claimed to have originated as one of many children born to a farmstead up near the frozen north of the world whom joined his father one day on a raid of the south lands and simply never returned north having been born with the ability to change form at will, the son of a doctor who lived in the far east who uncovered the secrets of how to change his form in ancient occult texts before before forced to flee his homeland due to a war... and one interesting tale about being a noble born from a distant land whom had come across the occult when normal experiences and sensations grew boring. Which, if any, of these tales are actually true he keeps completely to himself.
What is known for certain is the day that he arrived at the Coven almost a decade ago. A young boy with the ability to change his appearance at will, with time and training by those who understood magic and the occult he was able to grow his ability from just being able to change things such as hair and skin color to being able to shift his body, gender and even species as he wished. In return, he has dedicated himself to the Coven as a family that understands him and works as an agent to ensure its safety against outside threats.
Special Power:
Pandor is naturally gifted as a shape shifter, being able to alter his body to take on the appearance of anyone or just about anything mundane that he wants provided that it is a living creature. While he is taking a non-human form, he gains access to the abilities that have... provided that they are a result of a physical characteristic of the body in question. His shape shifting does not allow for the use of any magical abilities that the creature may possess.
For example: If he was to take the form of a spider, he would be able to climb most surfaces easily because that is a physical trait. If he was the take the form of a venomous snake, he would have venom because the venom sacks are a physical part of the snake. If he took the form of a cockatrice however, he would not have its death stare since that is a magical ability and not a physical one.
Things they look for in a partner: Pandor doesn't really know what he is looking for in a partner... but he feels like he'll know it when he finds it.
Appearance: Due to the nature of Pandor's signature power, no one actually know what his original face, form or even gender is for certain. Whatever it might have been, he seems to prefer being male since that will generally be the gender he falls back to and generally uses the most. While the flesh and body might change, what remains consistent is the red hood and the white mask that he wears when he isn't pretending to be someone else.
Age: Impossible to tell from appearance alone, but he's actually in his mid twenties age wise.
Personality: Pandor is one of nature's actors and thus it is really difficult to pin down a personalty... at least, pinning down what his actual personalty might be. Some suspect even he doesn't fully know what kind of person he is at heart, since when someone asked him what it was like to be a shape shifter he answered "You have to be careful. You spend too long pretending to be other people and sooner or later you'll forget who you're meant to be when you're not wearing the mask."
While he would never admit it, the reason he wears his trademark mask when he isn't required to pretend to be something else is because he no longer remembers what he originally looked like and the mask... comforts him. It gives him a sense of identity that when the mask is on, he is himself. As such, he will come down on anyone who tries to steal or damage his mask with anger and furious vengeance that will be shift and brutal. Even allowing someone to touch his mask is an act of trust that goes beyond words for him.
History: Pandor has told numerous tales of his origins. He has claimed to have originated as one of many children born to a farmstead up near the frozen north of the world whom joined his father one day on a raid of the south lands and simply never returned north having been born with the ability to change form at will, the son of a doctor who lived in the far east who uncovered the secrets of how to change his form in ancient occult texts before before forced to flee his homeland due to a war... and one interesting tale about being a noble born from a distant land whom had come across the occult when normal experiences and sensations grew boring. Which, if any, of these tales are actually true he keeps completely to himself.
What is known for certain is the day that he arrived at the Coven almost a decade ago. A young boy with the ability to change his appearance at will, with time and training by those who understood magic and the occult he was able to grow his ability from just being able to change things such as hair and skin color to being able to shift his body, gender and even species as he wished. In return, he has dedicated himself to the Coven as a family that understands him and works as an agent to ensure its safety against outside threats.
Special Power:
Pandor is naturally gifted as a shape shifter, being able to alter his body to take on the appearance of anyone or just about anything mundane that he wants provided that it is a living creature. While he is taking a non-human form, he gains access to the abilities that have... provided that they are a result of a physical characteristic of the body in question. His shape shifting does not allow for the use of any magical abilities that the creature may possess.
For example: If he was to take the form of a spider, he would be able to climb most surfaces easily because that is a physical trait. If he was the take the form of a venomous snake, he would have venom because the venom sacks are a physical part of the snake. If he took the form of a cockatrice however, he would not have its death stare since that is a magical ability and not a physical one.
Things they look for in a partner: Pandor doesn't really know what he is looking for in a partner... but he feels like he'll know it when he finds it.
Appearance: Standing at around six feet, four inches (give or take) results in Draco normally being the tallest in the crowd (Through he has encountered several people taller then himself). He has often been told that he has the broad shoulders and slim physic to be a natural born swimmer. His white skin is quite pale due to his somewhat nocturnal lifestyle, through it does match his blue eyes and brown-blonde hair rather nicely.
There was once a time where Draco was a handsome young man that could make a young woman's heart swoon; That ended during his first hunt. A misstep while dodging resulted in a werewolf leaving him without a nose and a monstrous looking scar running sideways across the middle of his face.
Age: Appears to be in his Early to Mid Twenties (24 to be exact)
Personality: Life has turned Draco into a highly cynical, jaded man who struggles with nihilism; He wants to believe that there is some kind of god or at least some purpose to all the pain and suffering that he has gone through but he just can't and it causes him to suffer bursts of depression and anger.
Despite this through, he can still recognize when someone else is having a hard time and it is hard for him not to feel some sort of empathy and desire to help them. There are times when he hates the fact that he is such a caring soul because there have been plenty of times where trying to be the nice, understanding guy has only resulted in him getting hurt but deep down he wouldn't have it any other way.
History: Much like many other hunter clans, the Russ family have a long and proud tradition of prowling the night to stalk and destroy those that would threaten the innocent and defenseless; Unlike many of their peers through it was rare for them to go out into the night with the intentions of hunting down a witch. The Russ family favored hunting the supernatural beast of the night, such as werewolves and the like.
Draco was raised in the somewhat abusive shadow of his father Johnathan, one of the most strong willed and stubborn hunters the family had ever produced. After a lifetime of hunting beasts, Johnathan lost both of his shins to a werewolf and was told by a doctor that he would never walk again; Six months after having his feet sewn onto where his knees should have been, Johnathan walked right up to that doctor and punched him in the kidneys despite his massive loss of height.
When Draco went out on his first werewolf hunt he slipped up, growing overconfident during the battle with the beast and gave it all the opening it needed to try and rip his face off with a swipe; The loss of his nose and the ugly scar across his face is a permanent reminder of the dangers of overconfidence.
Signature Weapon:
A custom weapon created by the Russ family, the saw-cleaver is designed to be used against large, quick moving beasts that can heal from injuries at an accelerated rate by being light, sturdy and able to inflect large, nasty wounds that are hard to heal even for the supernatural. The blade itself is a fusion of silver and steel and is often cleaned/coated with a wolfsbane elixir before every hunt.
Things they look for in a partner: Draco wants to meet a woman that can make him happy and who can look past the fact that fact that he is a horribly scarred person (in the physical, mental and spiritual sense).
"Had you wasted my time..." Rukdug began, seated as he 'held court' with the miner whom had claimed to be able to reproduce the curse he was after "I would likely have heeded the wishes of some of your peers and punished you for your arrogant stupidity." Letting that hang in the air for a moment, the warchief smiled as he continued "However while you failed to achieve the results I was asking for, you did develop something of great interest. It has been quite a long time since I've seen a poison as potent and useful as the one you've 'accidentally' come across."
"To be clear-" The smile briefly disappeared from Rukdug's face as he stressed his point " - I am not rewarding you for failing to create the curse I asked of you. I have merely decided that you might be of more use to Riverforge elsewhere rather than just working in the mines. We are marching to war and our forces will have every advantage at hand that they can." Taking a deep breath, he finally declared the Miner's fate "From this moment on your life will be about poisons. While I'm happy to give you some leeway in developing new ones, your main task for the foreseeable future will be to produce enough of your interesting little creation to supply our war effort going forward."
With one matter settled, the next had to be brought forward; This time it was a pair of orcs who were coming before him through the two of them clearly didn't like the fact that they were settling matters before him and not taking it into a combat pit. On the left stood the shaman who's efforts to create cursed weapons was time consuming, but showed some degree of promise. On the right was the spokes orc for the lumberjacks. Both sides had come to try and sway him to their point of view privately beforehand so it wasn't hard to figure out what needed to be discussed.
Raising his hand to prevent the two from bickering, Rukdug cut to the chase. "I know why the two of you are here. Riverforge needs the usage of cursed weapons, but it's also starved for wood right now. As you both know, I sent Captain Nyorgha out to try and take the strain off of the latter, but building an outpost and getting a wood working operation underway takes time. So in the short term, compromises have to be made... as distasteful as it might be."
"In order to get our smelters and metal workers off of their lazy asses, we're going to need wood. As such, I've decided that instead of producing one hundred cursed axes we're going to have to lower that number down to eighty." It was clear from the look on Rukdug's face that he wasn't trilled with having to make this decision, but the situation called for it. "Twenty trees may not be much, but it'll get us producing weapons and armor until either Nyorgha pulls through or we find a more long term solution."
Clearing his throat, he continued "Speaking of, this is a two part plan. Alongside the trees, I'm going to be sending out teams of prospectors to search for other ores... but their propriety will be to locate a source of coal. If we can get some bloody coal than we're not going to be so dependent on freaking wood anymore!" A raged filled growl escaped him, but he reeled it in quickly. "Don't bother protesting, my decision is final. Next!"
At the suggestion of being enthralled, the goblin in question would receive Pak's answer quickly enough... when he sat in his masked face with an glare in his eye that could have melted through iron plating. "We bowed in servitude once. Never again."
With a plan of action agreed upon by Ie, Pak nodded his head to the bird man as he handed off the wooden instrument to one of his underlings. "Shouldn't be to difficult to do. Humans are weak individually in both strength and mental fortitude. They can offset their weakness through training, discipline and teamwork... aspects that an army of bandits wouldn't do on their own and a leader too arrogant to enforce such things will neglect. Just give us a position that offers us a good defensive choke point and their leader will have to appear to either try and break through proper or try and recruit us after we kill his army."
The Miner has been reassigned to a new job that might better suit his talents. He has been tasked with supplying the orcish army with his poison to help fuel the future campaign.
The Shaman has been ordered to lower the number of weapons he is producing from 100 to 80, with the 20 trees that were going to be used for cursed weapons being cut down to give Riverforge some much needed wood for its projects.
Prospectors are being sent out to search for signs of other ores that can be mined... but they've been instructed to seek coal above all else.
Pak is confirming his plan of action. We shall see how it goes later.
A sigh escaped Gredy as he reached up to rub the back of his neck, taking a moment to collect himself before telling his brief tale. "Well to start with, my name is Gredy." he began, seemingly more confident with himself now that it was clear that he wasn't going to be killed on sight or any other horrible things happen... at least not in the foreseeable future. "I had joined a hunting party being led by our tribe's self named 'tracking expert' Zog to hunt down what he claimed was a fox of some kind."
An annoyed look quickly appeared on his face as anger slowly leaked into his voice. "Zog was an idiot. The 'fox' he was having us track-" his fingers had been brought up to make quotation marks "- turned out to be a wolf. Which is not only bigger and more dangerous than a fox would have been, but he lead us right into its home... and introduced us to the rest of the family. In the mad dash to outrun Zog, I ended up scaling a tall tree after I got separated from everyone else in the bushes... and by the time it was safe to come back down, I had no idea where I was or how to get back to where my tribe lived..."
Seated in his makeshift throne, Rukdug looked between the shaman and the miner who seemed intent to rip each other apart in order to prove their own claims to be true with... well, mixed feelings. On the one hand, it felt good to see the bloodthirsty ambitions of his people alive and well but on the other... actually allowing them to murder each other at this stage would be counter productive to his long term goals.
However, an alternative was easy to see. "If we were still slaves of the Dark One and finding orcs to replace either of you in your duties would be as easy as finding flies on a rotten corpse, I likely wouldn't have thought twice about sending you both into the combat pit to let you prove your points in a battle to the death. However, because of our decision to break free of his control we no longer benefit from having access to the endless hordes of orcs to call upon, throwing either of your lives away for pride and ego would be wasteful..."
Pausing a moment to let that message sink in, he quickly continued "Thankfully, there is an easy way to determine if either of you can truly recreate the cursed works of the Cult of Darkness. Myself and a fair number of orcs within this fortress have born witness to the effects of the Cult's cursed weapons in action. What we're going to do is have the both of you use your methods to create your own versions of the curse, than we're going to have you both give glancing wounds to a couple of runty piglets; Nothing that by itself would be fatal... and watch to see what happens. If either of you have the correct method, we'll see the results easily enough."
While having access to charcoal kilns was a good start, the fact of the matter was that unless a larger, more steady supply of wood was found they simply weren't going to be able to supply them with enough wood to industrialize properly. This wasn't an impossible task however... and he had just the Captain for the job.
"Nyorgha, I have a task for you that will be vital to the future of Riverforge." Rukdug watched as Nyorgha the Liberator stood at attention, clearly getting the point that this was serious and needed to be treated as such. "We need wood and we need a steady supply of it to get our metal works operational and thus get us prepared for war. Thankfully, I know exactly where we can find such a supply of it we can take advantage of. Do you remember when we landed at the mouth of the river leading inland, where there appeared to be a forest growing on the opposite bank?"
After a moment of thought, Nyorgha offered a nod in affirmative acknowledgement. "Good. I am giving you free reign to select a sizeable band of those you will need to follow you back there to establish a stronghold that's main task is to harvest and supply lumber to Riverforge. Having a fortified outpost that can give us control of the river is an added bonus, but your task will be to establish this outpost and get it operational. That will mean devising means to transporting lumber to Riverforge over a river and land route in a healthy steady supply. Do you understand what I am asking of you?"
"Yes Warchief." was the quick and sharp reply, all mirth and signs of friendship the two orcs may have had replaced by professionalism at the importance of the task ahead.
Pak couldn't help but feel like Ie thought he was an idiot who barely understood the concepts of stealth or an ambush. However, while the bird's seemingly condescending nature 'ruffled his feathers' as it were (a turn of phase that Pak didn't find amusing in the slightest), he quickly decided that the best way to ease his unsettled pride would be to not only prove the bird man wrong, but also show him up a bit.
"If we were going up against any old band of bandits, even one led by one of these Oni, this wouldn't be a bad plan. However, from what you've told us... this 'Bandit King' has not only been actively fighting you and your goblin followers for decades, but has proven to be either strong enough, cunning enough or lucky enough to have remained a constant thorn in your side for all these years. If he isn't a complete shrak head he'll have learned enough from past attempts you've made on him to recognize one of your ambush sites before he steps into the trap..."
A grin appeared on Pak's face as he got to the point. "When the prey you're hunting figures out how to avoid or work around the traps you're using, it's time to develop a new kind of trap. Since he has fashioned himself into a bandit king, let us take advantage of his greed to override his caution."
"Since you have a good idea of where his army is marching and of the local area, what we need is... a camp site. Namely, somewhere that could only be safely approached from one direction from that wouldn't be too hard for their scouts to sniff out. Maybe a little mountain nook with rock walls blocking all but one path or some forest clearing with enough trees, plants or bogland to make travel possible. I don't really care of the exact nature of the area, just that there is only one safe way in... or out. My warband will set up a camp in it since I doubt that this Bandit King or any of his followers have seen an orcish camp before... and if we fill it with enough hunted game or shiny trinkets while seemingly having minimum protection they'll think it's an easy target."
He paused for a moment, considering the plan before asking Ie "I'm not sure to the full extent of your illusions and magic, but if you or your goblins could whip something up to make it look like the camp is occupied without us having to actually have anyone in it, that would make this a whole lot easier and less bloody."
Either way, he continued on. "With a rich and lightly defended target filled with supplies and loot a plenty, the bandits will do what bandits always do in such situations... raid and pillage. Since the promise of spoils will likely cause them to focus on the camp and bickering and fighting each other for the greatest personal reward for a minor amount of work, I doubt they'll be paying much attention to keeping the one path into the trap protected from an armed and organized force. Once we've secured that entrance, we can just slowly push in and cut them down while they're trapped like fish in a barrel. Depending on where we set this up, we could use the environment to our advantage like being able to rain down rocks, rockslides or other ranged things down from above. I can't make any promises for the King himself, but if nothing else this plan will make him a King without an army."
Rukdug makes it clear to both the Shaman and Miner claiming to know how to make Cursed weapons that letting them kill each other is a pointless waste. Instead they will be using piglets to test the weapons on and the effects will be observed by those who have witnessed the effects of the curse they are after personally, Rukdug included.
Nyorgha is given the task of establishing a fortified outpost near the forest that the orcs passed while sailing up the river shortly after they first arrived to not only secure a steady supply of lumber for Riverforge, but also to give the orcs control of the river mouth itself.
Pak offers Ie an alternative plan to ambush the Bandit King and his forces, as well as making it clear that the orcs will be assisting in fighting them.
For a moment, Gredy seemed... confused about where he was. A lot of it was because he was swapping from being in the light of the sun to the shadows of a cave, but the sight of the trolls confused him; He had never seen one before after all. However, the confusion was short lived as a goblin called out to him to gain his attention. Deciding to give him his full attention, Gredy somewhat nervously walked up to him before saying "H-Hi. Sorry to intrude like this..."