Take Me, Instead! (Ensabaunur & A Gilt Clochard)

[A Gilt Clochard]

The war had been raging for months. Many had been lost on both sides, but the elves were quickly losing ground. Shouts raged as the battle surged on, the elves attempting to defend their homeland and fair city from the onslaught of the orcs. Arrows flew through the air from the elven side, while orcs catapulted flaming stones over the elven walls. Finally, a series of blasts were heard through the valley-- the orcs had blown up the entry gate and were flooding the streets like ants. Elves gave up bow and arrow for sword and spear.

Larei, a young elven woman, herded children down alleys to a small house near the center of town, hoping to protect them. She tried to quiet their tears as they fled the orcs, but she couldn't help but want to cry herself as she heard the blasts, knowing they wouldn't be far behind. Other women and children had fled to other homes, but Larei had been left in charge of bringing the orphans from the temple. A group of soldiers escorted them, but they were almost as fearful as she. They all knew that once they had gotten through the gates, there wasn't much hope.

As they reached the house, Larei led the children in, the soldiers standing guard outside the door, swords raised in preparation for the enemy.

 

[Ensabahnur]

Kultak could feel the battle in his blood. In his bones. It thumped in his ears and shook in his muscles. Somewhere, his shoulder was pained from the endless cleaving that wicked, chipped blade had been dealing out. But not here. Here, his veins stuck out from his thickly muscled limbs, his massive chest rising and falling as he grunted and panted more for the need of battle than the exertion of his body.

His dark body was tall; his back with the slightest hunch, and his body muscled well all over. Were he not covered in blood, seething from bloodlust, and holding such an inherently cruel looking weapon, he could even look slightly noble. That, however, was not Kultak's impression to leave on that fair world.

A clean swipe tore an elf nearly in two, who looked uselessly at Kultak before his heavy booted foot roughly launched the thinner fighter to the dirt, to stomp his neck a moment later. The orc's body was a canvas for blood and soot, covered nearly head to toe in it, his dark green-black skin less visible than the war-evidence he'd entrenched himself within. Kultak laughed uproariously, separating from his pack to chase down an elven fighter who'd taken too long to drop his bow and switch to that toothpick of a sword they all seemed to carry. Behind him, another great crack sounded, and a large portion of the wall crumbled from the onslaught of stones being hurled at it.

But something else held Kultak's attention, catching the barest glimpse of a door shutting, and a foot disappearing around its corner. The guards outside the door spoke of someone important within, and he wasn't about to lose an opportunity like this. He grinned, a pair of small tusks curling with it just slightly at either side of his mouth. Kultak began to stomp in its direction, rather unsteadily at first, until he garnered momentum, his legs thumping the ground, their muscles tightening at each impact, until he was at a full sprint; a terrifying thing to behold an orc of his size doing. With a roar, he brought that wicked blade up high in a wide sweep at the pair of guardsmen.

 

[A Gilt Clochard]

One of the guards caught sight of him as he came up from the side, and let out a cry before he fell, giving the other a moment to prepare. As the first collapsed in a pool of blood with a shriek unbecoming a soldier, the other braced his spear against the ground so that Kultak's sprint carried him into it. The deed was hastily done, however, and the spear sliced into his arm, and not his broad chest as the soldier had hoped.

Larei could hear the roar, the shriek of battle just outside the door. She tried to quiet the children, but several of them screamed in fear. Larei huddled them into a corner, placing her body between them and the door. She trembled a little in fright, but stood to her full height, the candles behind her making her red hair shine like a holy crown of flame on her head.

 

[Ensabahnur]

Kultak's arm immediately felt as if it'd been set ablaze by the sharp point that dug into it. The orc had the momentary instance of clarity to respect the quick thinking of the elf's behalf, that is, were it used against an opponent of smaller stature.

Kultak swung the pierced arm wide, tossing the elf away from his weapon and into the wall of the building, before hefting the menace that was his sword like an extension of his own arm, bringing it down from the elf's shoulder into his torso. With a grunt, he gripped the spear in his arm, dropping his blade for a moment to tear the pointed weapon from his arm, and toss the thing aside, it rolling to leave a small trail of his dark blood. The orc weightily picked his sword back up, cracking his neck to create a pair of low, deep sounds, before his mighty boot connected with the door, shattering the hinges, and laying it flat on the inside of the house.

 

[A Gilt Clochard]

Larei's knees shook as she heard the second guard go down with barely a sound. The grunting and cracks were terrifying, and she wondered for the briefest moment if the enemy at their door would carry on down the street and not enter. Children screamed as she was proven wrong. She was so stunned, she did not utter a sound.

The beast of an orc stood before her, covered in a sheen of blood and other evidence of the battle. Her eyes widened and her jaw went slack, praying to the gods that someone would come save them, that one of her people's fair soldiers would burst through the door just as he had and take the monster down. But none came, and she flared her arms out over the children protectively.

 

[Ensabahnur]

Kultak was prepared for a garrison of soldiers, protecting some cowed noble or ranked citizen. The shrill cry of children at his entry, however, nearly caused the massive warrior to stumble. He grunted, arching a rust colored brow as the dust cleared from the force of his entry, revealing the woman and children as the home's only occupants. He sneered; there was no battle to be had here, the chipped steel blade touching just barely to the floor.

The orc's instinct was to leave. A recent shift in their chieftan, to whom they owned many of their recent strategic victories, had demanded the children be killed. 'The child today is the warrior stabbing you through the throat tomorrow' the chieftan had warned. Kultak had thought it beneath him; not the killing of children necessarily, but more the use of his weapon if it wasn't going to be for the sake of a fight. He lifted the blade a bit, stepping toward the group with a stoic expression.

 

[A Gilt Clochard]

Larei shivered in her boots, watching the orc. Her eyes couldn't leave his terrible face-- she was stunned that his eyes weren't empty, soulless holes in his skupp, as she had always imagined an orc's to be. Locked there, she couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in his expression-- surprise, anger, something like reluctance, then, possibly, resignment. As he stepped toward them, she had to fight not to collapse in fear. He was a creature with a mission, but she latched onto that flicker of reluctance she had seen, her last glimmer of hope.

"Please! Do not hurt them! They are but orphans in the ward of the Temple! Please, have pity! Have mercy on them!"

 

[Ensabahnur]

His heavy footfalls halted for only a moment as she spoke to him, his face twitching in momentary irritation as his red irises focused on her. Kultak grunted again, considering the idea of cutting her down, though quickly deciding otherwise. He knocked her aside easily enough with a shove of his knuckles, hefting up his weapon atop his shoulder, laying it there as he prepared to let momentum do most of the reaping for him, he continuing toward the children.

They were so odd looking, their ears pointed, much like his, but their eyes with too much shine. He could hardly believe they'd ever grow up to make something worth fighting. They shivered under his shadow that arched toward them, fueled by the sun that pooled through the shattered doorway. He stopped above them, a vein pulsing in his bicep as he prepared to strike, lifting the blade, the blade from the guards still dripping off it and following its fissures.

 

[A Gilt Clochard]

Larei hit the floor with a thud and a grunt, the knock enough to leave her breathless. She could taste copper blood in her mouth where her cheek had broken open on her teeth. Turning quickly, she watched in horror as he approached the children.

"NO!" she shrieked, jolting forward on her knees, falling at his feet and wrapping her arms around his leg. She looked up at him with tears streaming down her face and wept, "Please, spare them! They belong to the temple! They will grow in the ways of the spirit! None of them shall ever become warriors! None of them!"

She tried to think of any excuse for him not to cut the trembling children to bits, but in the end all she could think of was, "Please, don't! If you must, take me, instead! Take me and spare the children!" She clutched desperately at him, staring up at him from her knees as she begged.

 

[Ensabahnur]

He'd begun to step forward, throwing the weight of the movement into his sweep; he was intending to cleave as many in one go as he could and get out of there. The dark creature almost didn't hear the shrill words being shouted up at him, managing to pull his blow mid-strike, the muscles in his arm pulling tight against the skin with the difficulty of it. He swiveled his head down toward her, initially angry, ready to kick her smaller body aside without a further thought.

Before he began to dissect what she was telling him. His own little elf, to take back to camp? His eyes went motionless, staring at her soft, supple body beside his foot. He could feel his blood boil then simmer just at the thought of it, he visibly reconsidering, darting his eyes to the shivering swarm of little bundles of skin and bones. The distaste in his mouth led him rapidly to his choice, he reaching down and gripping a fist around the wrist of the elf girl, lifting her easily off the ground. "Deal." Was all he grunted, tossing her over his shoulder and stomping out through the doorway, stepping through the blood that had pooled from the guards' slaughter, leaving great bloody prints on the ground.

 

[A Gilt Clochard]

Her teary eyes saw little for a moment as some degree of relief flooded her, followed by fear as he lifted her and agreed to her request. She hated to think that the children would see her die, but at least they would be alive... at least, that was what she thought. She felt herself being lifted by the massive creature, and immediately expected his great blade to pierce her. But no such thing happened. He hauled her up over his shoulder, and she gasped in confusion. He was... carrying her? She propped herself up on his shoulder, watching the children disappear as he carried her off, most of them crying in a pile but a few chasing them to the doorway crying, "Miss Larei! Miss Larei!"

"Don't!" she cried out hoarsely to them, "Stay there, until the Priests come for you!"

Larei nearly vomited as he carried her through the doorway and saw the guards-- her friends, her people-- lying in pools of their own blood. She gasped and covered her mouth as she watched the trail of bloody footprints grow longer. She could still hear the battle in the distance, as if on the other side of the city, and the sound was slowly fading. Was he... taking her back to the warband before killing her?

She began to sob a little, his stride making it difficult to breathe at times. Taking in a deep breath, she said, "T-thank you... for sparing them. But... but when are you going to kill me? I don't understand why you're taking me with you... not that I don't appreciate you not killing me in front of... in front of the children," another small sob escaped her at the thought. She realized she was rambling with nerves and quickly quieted herself.

 

[Ensabahnur]

His feet crunched a hand, small pools of blood from both sides in various places on the battlefield. Some led trails off elsewhere, though most led directly to prone, unmoving bodies, disemboweled or otherwise. Kultak could feel the bloodening of battle leaving him, as the sounds of the fight seemed ever more distant. Several stragglers, the weaker orcs, were only now making their ways to the front, ignoring the home behind him as they spotted the bloodied guards at its door. They gave him only cursory glances, though didn't vocalize their concerns over the prize he'd chosen on his shoulder. Kultak was, after all, of reasonably high standard in their tribe, and fewer than most to explain his actions to.

"Not killing ya." He grunted, stepping through a shattered section of the wall belonging to the city, a huge pile of dead orcs laying not far off at the base of the city gate where they'd first begun the siege. He was making his way toward where a number of those massive, terrifying boars that they used as mounts were tied up, the lot of them stamping and squealing with impatience.

 

[A Gilt Clochard]

Larei had to hold back her gag reflex again as she watched an elfin hand crunch beneath his heel in a mass of blood and bone. She wasn't certain, but she thought that if she threw up on him, it was highly likely he would take his anger out on her via torture before he finally killed her.

As the others approached, she began to tremble a little, what if they hurt the children?

But her fears were quelled again as he took care of it, the other orcs seeming to listen to his command. She let out a noise of discomfort as he began walking again, hauling her out of the city, over the wall, and into their enforcement. It was terrifying to be so deep in enemy territory. But her fear was doubled as she heard the sounds of the great boars growing louder, and saw the creatures up close with her own two eyes. They were a sight to behold, and fearsome indeed, with their tusks and tempers.

"Oh, great Gods," she muttered, beginning to shake again.