Allies (GM Steve or AGM Gauls please)

[Ogrim]

Early Morning, Brightening 14, Cryxatum; Era II of the Celestial Mandate

The usual rain that clung to Orckon like a drunken comrade unable to walk straight was lighter this morning, so fine it was almost a mist but still cold, though it was summer. There was not a breath of wind to blow the mist away and this gave the morning crispness. When Ogrim had first risen, purposefully early, his mind fog had fled quickly as he stripped his blankets and splashed cold water over his body, pulled on his clothes and light armor and buckled his weapons were they may be reached quickly.

Finding the Skull Hammer Clan compound was a simple task. As one of the seven hosted clans they enjoyed a status that was envied amongst the majority of simple Orckon citizens. Approaching the stronghold where they were located it was obvious that their tactical position was a genius piece of planning, but also simple. Having a clan bonded to the city afforded the clan a degree of privilege and safety and in return, they city could call on them for its defense. Also, locating the clans on the perimeter had two fold benefits for the ruling lords. As each clan was responsible for a piece of the outer wall, their pride would drive them to defend it furiously, with no recourse but death for their enemies or themselves. Secondly, having the clans so far from the literal centre of power, it made an open usurping action against the lords of Orckon that much more difficult.

Approaching the Skull Hammer Clan gate, Ogrim noted that though the hour was early, the guards were attentive, alert and deadly. The creature grunted a question that the one eyed greenskin did not hear clearly but responded in half growl.

”I am Ogrim Ash-Auga. Former Bolg of the Rog Shati of the Skull Hammer Clan. I request entrance, whelp.”

As if to prove his point, and to show the guards he held no fear for them, Ogrim pulled off his clothes and armor to expose his back, and the Clan tattoo that was emblazoned upon it. Turning around with a scowl on his face he barked an order in the morning quiet.

”Open that gate, Zanbaur.”

[Ogrim]

The guard hissed at Ogrim maliciously though without any real threat, it was only natural orc hostility that caused it to do so. The creature was in a weak condition. The Skull Hammer Clan had been wracked by the plague and its stronghold sealed on orders of Orckon’s rulers so that the disease was contained. As the gates scraped open, Ogrim walked through before barking an order to seal them again.

Inside it was a charnel house. Desiccated corpses in various states of decomposition lay strewn about the open courtyard. It was if they had died where they stood, or more likely, lay. Deep set eyes that had sunken further into their sockets in sickness watched Ogrim from out buildings that surrounded the yard. From a cursory inspection it was obvious that the population of the Skull Hammers had been reduced to a fraction of which they once boasted. Fixing a sickly Orc with his one remaining eye he called out to it.

”Where is your Krual? Your Bolg! Who is in charge here? I will speak with them.”

[Gauls]

There was only a slight stir when Ogrim barked his demands. The proud red and black of the SHC was nothing more than spattered grey upon the shields lining a nearby wall. Obviously no care had been given to them in a while. The foul odors that permeate from everything within the stronghold automatically induced a gag reflex. Suddenly there was a response...

: From a room at Orgim's left :
"Who'd ya tink ya are burstin' inta da stronghold of da SHC?"

Coming out of the dim light is a surprisingly healthy looking female orc. She is a bit on the older side with weathered skin but she has a full face and body structure a sign that she has been eating rather well compared to the near skeletons that lye upon the floors. This female must be an elder of the clan.

"Dis our clan. Ya tink ya part of it? Wud ya know 'bout da plight of da SHC?"

Behind the female a few more shadows appear within the room but it is too dark to see them clearly at the moment.

[Ogrim]

A sneer of barely contained contempt crossed Ogrim’s face as the gru krual walked from the shadows. She was still plump, by comparison and had a strength about her that none of the others had. Obviously the matriarch of the clan.

Bristling with anger Ogrim stalked towards her before stopping within arms reach. Turning slight to his right the uruk swept his left arm back and backhanded the female viciously. A sharp crack reverberated around the open courtyard as she hit the dirt, sending up a cloud of dust. Ogrim was on her in an instant, his massive hand grasping the nape of her neck, forcing the side of her face into the ground while he dug his knee into the small of her back.

”I didn’t bust in ‘ere. Dis is my ‘ome as much as da next uruk of da Skull Hammer Clan. And I am part ov da clan. A forgotten son but still a son!”

Pressing harder o the female, Ogrim ground his groin into hers in aggressive sexual tension.

”Lissen whore, your either gonna help me and da clan or you’ll be cast out to scratch your remaining days in da streets. You’ve done nothin’, nothing to help your people! Be ashamed bitch, whore, slut!’”

In rage, a string of saliva tripped form the black uruks maw and deposited itself in the female’s greasy hair.

”Help and stay. Or die.”

[Gauls]

The dust barely settled from the female orc hitting the ground when three more female orcs came bursting forth from the adjacent room. They were not as healthy looking as the older orc but they were younger. Two were green skinned but the third was a dark brown color. All were with grey mud-spattered hair. The orcs pointed spears toward Ogrim but it wasn't clear if they knew how to wield them. Each of the female orcs snarled and growled at Ogrim.

: The elder orc was wincing to turn her head toward them :

"Nar!" she yelled raising a hand to make the female orcs stop their threats.

The brown skinned orc moved closer to Ogrim and her eyes got big. "Him got da clan markin'!"

The fact that no male orc came out of the darkness to aide the clan matriarch was evidence of the clan's weak condition. It appears that the male guards outside and those too weak to stand lying upon the cold stone floor throughout the stronghold were the only ones left. The female orcs couldn't believe that they were looking at one of their own... a strong male with all of the ferociousness that they once had.

"Ack!" the elder orc struggled until she removed Ogrim's hand from her neck.

The three females moved to push Ogrim off their leader. Once off, the elder scrambled to her feet.

"Ju tink dat da clan leaders gib ya favor treatin' da elders like dat? Ju maybe git da young dumb males ta follow ya dat way but da heart an' soul of dis clan is da female! We keep dis clan alive long after generations of ya brute males done died off."

The elder stood defiant ready to accept another smack down from Orgim if needed. the three other females were brushing her off until one of them added...

"We waitin' fer males to return. We know they out there but no mobs want ta join dis clan tinkin' we dead already from pox. Orkcon bolgs keep us locked up in here scared of da pox spreadin'."

Then another female spoke. "We descended from Hazbones line. We strong only because we know we last pure line of females. We die, da clan gone. Others gib us food ta live so dat SHC can live. Ju not mock der sacrifice!"

It was sad that the two great clans: the Skull and BoneHammer clans that make up the SHC were reduced to such a pitiful state. It will be a tenuous time until the SHC can be brought back from the brink.

[Ogrim]

Ogrim watched the three other gru’s try to defend their Krual. They still had spirit but their bodies were not willing. Ignoring the, Ogrim listened to their cawing for as long as he could stand.

”Enough! Enough ov ur pissin’ and moanin’. You insult Hazbones and all da other members ov da clan wif ur jaw bonin’. Yous can talk about rebuildin’ da clan and how many young orc’s are out dere waitin’ for da word to join up but what ‘ave ya done about it huh?! Nuffin! Yous done Nuffin! Don’t gimme dat rot about me disrespectin da clan when yous done nuthin’ yourself!" Pausing to let his tirade set in, Ogrim continue in a less vehement tone.

”Da first thing we do is burn dese bodies. Da Bolgs of Orckon won’t let us open da gates if we got poxed bodies lying about. Now, get some wood.”

It was not a request, it was an order. Much work would need to be done to resurrect the Skull Hammers to anything near there former glory. This task required strong backs and strong minds, Ogrim possessed both and he was not afraid to put them to use.

Turning, the uruk walked towards the nearest body. Grabbing it and another by the wrist he dragged the bodies into the middle of the clan grounds and removed anything of value to the clan. Repeating the process over and over, a funeral soon began to take shape.

[Gauls]

The elder female let out a "humph" an turned to retreat into the room from which she came. The three healthy females trailed behind her out of sight. It was clear that the three breeding females had no intention of doing any manual labor except what they were expected and fed to do.

Two of the male orcs that could still walk and that were guarding the front door of the stronghold threw open the door when they heard the commotion going on inside and heard what Ogrim had said. They began to obey and from various stair cases and rooms within the stronghold, there came hobbling orcs of the decimated clan. Those orcs that still showed life and did not have the pox were propped up against the wall or in a chair if one was available. All together, there were about 15 males and 20 females out of a clan that used to be hundreds or thousands strong during its existence.

The orcs dragged the bodies as they did not have the strength to heft any of them around as Ogrim did and before long, there was a bon-fire going full force in the center of the dirt area out front of the stronghold. A huge black pillar of smoke rose above the stronghold blackening the sky above.

Not but a couple minutes after the fire began raging, the SHC stronghold got some visitors. They were two Pardahun Votar orcs. They were easily recognizable with their tall physique and black ornate armor. Their tall kite shields with the symbol of Orckon upon them drew instant respect. If that didn't intimidate someone, the Pardahun's halberd might. Knowingly disobeying the city enforcers was a crime punishable by death. These orcs relished the power they garnered over eras of keeping this city safe from outsiders as well as those within.

The two approached the SHC stronghold waving their hands in front of their faces because of the intense smoke coming from the burning pile of death. They confronted the first skinny orc they saw.

"Lati tum baj~z hai'i samund!" the Pardahun exclaimed.

Secrets : (Your smoke will make people sick)

"Nadal'ul Pardahun nugis~z lati buub'ug!" the other said pointing his halberd at the orc.

Secrets : (Them stop or Pardahun will stick you people like pigs!)

It was obvious that the Pardahun still believe that the SHC are contagious to others. With this mentality, they will never be able to get the quarantine lifted.

[Ogrim]

Ogrim watched on as the bodies burnt with intensity. The thick smoke rose into the air and to the uruk it represented rebirth, not death. Nodding and grunting in satisfaction, he began to contemplate the next stage in rebuilding the clan, though he was interrupted by two Pardahun Votar members.

Turning, Ogrim saw them shouting at one of the clan members, a sickly looking thing that was too frightened to deal with the famed black guards of Orckon.

”Zajar vras maushat sjukum."

Secrets : "Fire will kill flesh and sickness."

Ogrim knew these uruks were not to be trifled with. They were mean and quick tempered; just as likely to cleave your head from your shoulders as to leave you alone though how bright were they? Ogrim doubted if they weren’t anything but efficient killers and very disciplined, or as disciplined as an orc could be. The fire would dispose of the bodies and destroy the disease and it wouldn’t pose a threat to the general populace of Orckon. Judging by how desiccated the bodies were, they’d be burn hot and fierce and be gone in a matter of moments.

[Gauls]

The Pardahun looked at one another and almost immediately had a sense that Ogrim was trying to go against something they had ordered already regardless of how much sense it made. They were not interested in the common sense of it, only that they were obeyed.

"Nar! Lat nadal bal!" the Pardahun ordered now pointing his halberd in Ogrim's direction. The weaker orc slinked away and into the stronghold leaving only Ogrim outside. None of his clan were coming to stand by his side.

Secrets : No, you stop fire!

"Vend trup grumbull ishi lat prapsam. Pardahun nar dru!" the large orc snapped.

Secrets : You can put the body heap in your arse. Pardahun don't care!

The other Pardahun stepped up and added, "Lat nar langat, lat~hai baj gith bal lat~hai!"

Secrets : When you people are not sick, you can make as many fires as you want!

It was obvious that no more burning was going to take place and that something else would have to be done with the bodies. The two Pardahun laughed and waited for Ogrim to go back into his stronghold and think of another plan of action.

[Ogrim]

Ogrim bristled with anger. The Pardahun were testing his patience. Speaking through gritted teeth he spoke as plainly as he could, so that even these zealous fools couldn’t misunderstand.

” Bajrak nar sjuk. Lat shof!”

Secrets : ”Clan no sick. You see!”

Ogrim beckoned to be followed and turned his back on the two pitch colored guards before he began to retreat back to his stronghold. Stopping, he spoke to them over his shoulder though loud enough for a casual passerby to hear.

”Lat fraukanak?”

Secrets : ”You coward?”

Regardless of whether the guards could be convinced of his clan’s wellness, Ogrim knew that the longer the bodies burnt the harder the fire would be to extinguish and as he was not explicitly told that such a funeral pyre was forbidden he was taking a calculated gamble that he would be exonerated of any wrong doing. Provided he could avoid impalement.

[Gauls]

The two Pardahun followed but were too focused on the heap of burning bodies to hear the last comment Ogrim made. As they entered the stronghold they witnessed the weaker orcs leaning up against the walls and the others hobbling around like wounded nags. The place reeked of soiled clothing and death. If Ogrim was trying to prove to the Pardahun that the clan was well, he was failing miserably. The two Pardahun covered their nostrils not because of the smell but because they thought they were going to catch something that would make them like the skeletal orcs they were witnessing.

The guards began to falter and it looked like they were about to turn around and walk out sealing the doors back again behind them. Ogrim had better say or do something quick.

[Ogrim]

Clearly his ploy had not worked; Ogrim was at a loss as to how he could prove to these two dung-heads that though the orc’s were frail, they were not sick. Perhaps he had spent too much time in the shara world where often violence was seen as a last resort and codling ones underlings was the done thing, well that was going to change. Might was right in the world of the orc. Turning around so that the entire male population of the clan could hear his orders, Ogrim bellowed from the depths of his bowels.

”You fethin’ worthless pieces ov dogmeat! What did I tell yous about doin’ stuff wiv’out my orders! You put this fethin’ fire out now before I let dese two quench dere hunger for blood wiv you lot! Don’t just stand dere, move!”

Ogrim walked menacingly towards the nearest orc with his fist raised before the creature slunk off to hopefully do the uruks bidding. Ogrim was furious, as much with himself as with the two Pardahun.

”You bastards. You stupid bastards.”

Ogrim hoped that extinguishing the flames would appease the two Home Force guards. Provided they didn’t decide to seal the stronghold regardless of what the clan did he’d need to dispose of the bodies in another manner and prove the Skull Hammers were disease free.

[Gauls]

The Pardahun waited to see how the orcs responded to this one orc bossing everyone around. Not that they were musing at Ogrim's nanny abilities but that they were watching the orcs themselves to see if they were indeed sick or not.

The SHC orcs did scamper about following Ogrim's orders and soon they began dumping pales of urine (because they didn't want to waste the only drinking water they had left) upon the burning corpses which did nothing to alleviate the stench of the stronghold.

"Flauk bagronk!" one Pardahun said as his eyes welled up from the smell.

Secrets : Dirty cesspool!

The other Pardahun began to back out of the stronghold and the other followed close by. As they turned to leave, they made their last demand.

"Baj asgaja afar agon, hap bajrak dar Orckon!"

Secrets : Make sure nothing is here by dawn and Pardahun will open the clan doors to Orckon!

And with that, the SHC was given their window of opportunity to finally lift their involuntary imprisonment.

[Ogrim]

Ogrim watched the Pardahun leave with not a little relief. As soon as they were out of sight and earshot he turned back to the compound and growled in frustration. Gradually Ogrim was realizing that his time in the shara lands had left him disconnected from his orcish heritage, customs and mannerisms that were second nature to him once had become unfamiliar and almost foreign, like the uruk was a child of two worlds, but an orphan to both.

Turning back to regard the internal compound of the clan, Ogrim ground his teeth in thought. It was still midday so time was relatively plentiful, but muscle was not. Corpses, debris and detritus choked the Skull Hammer’s complex and it needed removal. Idly the uruk observed a line of ants deploy and tear apart a dead cricket. Slowly a smile split Ogrims leathery face.

”Fethin’ goblins.”

Striding outside the gates Ogrim quickly located one of the few sources of intelligence he had in Orckon. The old crone was hunched with age and far beyond whelping age but she was canny and cunning, she knew things what others didn’t and more importantly, could put one in touch with those who knew what she didn’t. Grating his thanks and dropping a sack of food in her lap, Ogrim returned to the Skull Hammers and awaiting his guests.

Shortly back at the compound he was surprised to see a mob of goblins already milling outside the gates, looking rather nervous and excitable. From their midst came a shrill voice.

”Oi! Yous da bolg round ‘ere? We ‘az comes ta fix ur problem.”

Nodding and looking down on the chief of this particular goblin tribe, Ogrim spoke bluntly.

”Get inside, get rid of da bodies and crap. Den go away.”

Reaching under his furs, Ogrim retrieved a pouch laden with approximately one thousand crowns. Though the currency was virtually worthless in Orckon, the gold could be melted down and made into a more marketable commodity or specialist item. Dropping the pouch into a pair of grabbing little hands, Ogrim retreated to the inner quarters of the stronghold to consult with the matriarch.

[Gauls]

The goblins turned to almost immediately. They had no other use in this world than to work for their overlords. Though they are treated like the crap they were now throwing out of the rooms and halls of the stronghold, they were still kaugzi, the very tribes that did the major work building this fortress and were given a place of their own within its walls as a reward. They were just as proud of the city as the orcs were. They would do anything to keep its pride from being smeared with feces.

The squealing voice of the goblin boss could be heard deep within the stronghold as could what sounded like a wagon wreck in progress. They were tossing anything that looked decrepit out into the compound yard where more goblins were waiting to haul it off. Bucket teams were bringing in water which was splashed upon the walls and floors then scrubbed. Each stronghold has a built in rainwater catch system cut into the walls that funnels the rains into a well inside the main hall of the stronghold. These walls were so caked with garbage and muck that the rains could not refill the well. Now that the walls were cleared out and the well scrubbed, the August rains would refill the well in no time. One giant step toward reviving the clan was taken. Each goblin was immersed in his own work. They would work like this for many hours until they finish. Just hopefully it was before dawn.

The matriarch of the clan was in a large room sitting in a chair surrounded by her three female wenches. The three were tending to the old one where she had been smacked by Ogrim gently dabbing a cloth to her cheek. When Ogrim finds them, the three females hiss at him. If this were a shara house, it would be certain to say that Ogrim was not getting any nookie tonight unless he took one of the emaciated females lying out in the hall helpless.