[Riparia] The Riverside (Private; Mike)

[Ogrim]

Deepest Winter of Era II of the Celestine Mandate;
Era XIV Post Fractum;
Paradigm: Gala of the Empress Michelle

It was a candlemark from darkness and Ogrim waded through the knee deep snow with ease. His powerful legs carried him relentlessly towards the small copse of mature oak that stood adjacent to the nameless frozen river; their massive branches overhung the water and almost reached the far bank. In the distance, Aslan’s Forge was at the orc’s back, dominating the snow blanketed vista with its brooding menace. A thin plume of black smoke escaping the crater of the still active volcano served as a reminder that it could erupt at any moment and destroy almost anything for leagues around should the whim of the earth gods turn sadistic.

None of this was of consequence to the greenskin as he pressed his chin down and pulled the bear skin cloak tightly against his chest to conserve heat. Though he wore knee length deer hide moccasins that were lashed firm with treated sinews, the cold had managed to penetrate the dense fur and his feet felt like little more than slabs of ice. Ignoring his discomfort however, the Orc pressed on and soon gained the group of trees he was making for.

An inspection of the thicket revealed a small clearing where the snow had failed to fully penetrate the bunched limbs of the trees. Squatting on his haunches, Ogrim brushed away the thin layer of snow with a broad hand and was pleased to see a thick layer of leaves underneath, further digging revealed earth that was dark, rich and more importantly, dry. Continuing his work the greenskin had soon created a rough square with side’s three strides in length with the detritus making a small bund surrounding it. Content that the clearing was suitable, Ogrim lumbered down to the river and began to select river stone from its banks and arranged them in a small circle in which he would build a fire. There was ample fuel below the trees however finding dry leaves, twigs and branches was a painstakingly arduous task.

With the small amount of dry leaves and kindling he could find arranged in a neat pile, Ogrim struck his flint several times before a large spark fell on the tinder and birthed a modest fire. With gentle nurturing typically alien to his race, the Orc fussed over the flame, feeding it wood and leaves until it was a few hand spans in height and smoking lightly. Taking a branch the greenskin broke it in half and balanced the two pieces against each other so that they would burn without smothering the flame. He repeated this process until the fire was caged by the oak branches. As they caught alight the wood eventually fell inward and larger pieces of oak were nestled in the heart of the fire. Apart from the occasional addition of more timber fuel, the hardwood blaze would burn until morning without further tending. More importantly, the heat would keep Ogrim warm and dry the damp wood stacked neatly nearby. Satisfied, the Orc dug a hollow for his hip and shoulder before lying on his side to sleep.

[Mike]

The chill air matched the atmosphere, an occasional wolf howl punctuating the night accompanied by a chorus of crickets who played on in earnest. The moons were somewhat pale behind curtains of dark clouds, while the orc's camp found itself cloaked in murkiness. The fire was the only real light for acres in every direction. The flames cackled, consuming the wood and leaves it was fed with great enthusiasm. With the camp all but complete - crude as it may have been - Ogrim set about making room for his towering body near the fire. His task here would take a great deal of stamina, so he needed his rest. Of that much he was certain. Anything else was as yet unclear to him. He would have to wait and see what the night would bring.