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#Post#: 93--------------------------------------------------
Dragonsbane Origins: Krok
DIR By: Krok
Date: April 28, 2016, 12:41 am
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In the years of the conquest of Neverwinter, Vansi Bloodscar
leader of the Many-Arrows Tribe, saw an opportunity to take the
Tower District of the City itself. For years the tribe pillaged
the district, killing or enslaving anyone they came across. Many
of the slaves were used for the pleasure of the Many-Arrows.
When they slaves usefulness ran out, so did their lives.
Once the Tower district was fully under the Many-Arrows Tribe,
the Orcs celebrated, and not long after, many young members were
added to the tribe. When of age these young were given tasks to
not only make them stronger, but to make them members of the
tribe.
One day as Vansi was checking the fortifications of the
Many-Arrows new home, he smelled something… He smelled the
enemy, manflesh. He searched the area, but no humans could be
found. Vansi called for one of the Beastmasters, “There is
manflesh here, find it NOW!”
The Beastmaster’s wolves searched the camp, eventually coming to
the young, stopping at one in particular. The wolves growled at
the youngling. Vansi burst forward, grabbing the young Orc.
Raising the young one up, he leered into his eyes, and took in
its sent. With anger in his eyes, he turned to the caretaker of
the young, “Who does this thing belong to?” An elderly female
Orc came forward and spoke, “it belongs to no one, it is a
bastard child”. “Yes this thing is a bastard, and has no place
among Orcs. Do away with it now…”
The old Caretaker could not kill the child, the old one felt
like all the young were her children, and could not kill any of
them, even if one had human blood. She took the child by the arm
and told the Beastmaster that she would deal with the bastard.
She took the boy to the hog pen, and threw him in. “You stay in
there, they will cover your stink and maybe you may live to see
another day. Stay out of sight.”
Days turned into months, and months into years. The boy stayed
hidden, but eventually grew too big to hide anymore. One day as
the tribes cook came to get a hog to cook, he glimpsed the grown
boy. “You! What are you doing there?” The young half-orc, did
not know how to reply, he had never spoke to anyone before, and
so he just pointed to the biggest hog. The cook not knowing or
caring who this young orc was paused for only a moment, the
replied, “Yes that one…that one will do.” The boy just look back
at him puzzled. The cook told him, “Pick the thing up and bring
it to me” as he mimicked picking something up. The boy picked it
up and followed the cook.
The boy, remembering the wolves from when he was younger was
frightened to go near them, but as the cook passed the wolves’
pen, the boy had to follow. The wolves did not notice him.
The cook enjoyed not having to do all the work, and would return
to the hog pen every day to get the boy to do work. Simple tasks
like bringing the hogs to the fire pit. Each new task the cook
had, he had to spend a couple days showing the boy how to do it.
When the boy did not do the task correctly, the cook would beat
him until he got it right.
The rest of the tribe never bothers the cooks “gofer” because of
his smell. The cook liked it that way and never made the boy get
the smell of hog off. As time marched on the cook taught the boy
how to hunt for small animals, such as rabbits and squirrels.
The boy enjoyed this, and when he brought back game, the cook
told him, “put it in the crock” which was the large pot used to
make stew for the tribe, but when he failed, he was beaten
severely. Eventually when the boy brought back anything the cook
would just nod and say “crock”.
Many years later, a band of mercenaries from Neverwinter
attacked the Tower district in an attempt to take it back. The
battle raged for many days. In the end there was no clear
winner, The Many-Arrows held the district, and the mercenaries
retreated, taking prisoners of their own. The cook had been
killed in the battle, and the boy was one of the prisoners.
At the mercenaries’ stronghold, they took inventory of their new
slaves. Their leader orders the prisoners to be cleaned up. Once
clean up, it was plain to see that one among them was different.
“He Boss, looks like we got a half breed with the bunch.”
A man in black came out of the stronghold’s keep, flanked by
warriors in plate armor. “Bring the half-breed to me.” The
mercenaries brought the half-orc before their leader. Looking at
the half-orcs scarred body, he smirks and says, “Well, what do
we have here? Looks like this one might be trained already. What
can you do boy?”
The half-orc could not understand what the man was saying, and
became frightened. He did not want to be beaten, so he looked
around for something familiar. Near the gates of the stronghold
he say the large campfire. The half-orc pointed to the fire and
struggled to say, “krok.” The mercenaries all laughed, and the
leader said, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Why don’t
you show me?” The half-orc looked at the leader with a blank
look. “We got a real smart one here boys.” Laughter rang out
again.
"Halparten, hva må du gjøre? Vis Meg.” Upon hearing a familiar
tongue, the boy went to the fire, pointed to it and then pointed
to his mouth, then pretended to pull a bow. The leader shook his
head, “Dus je huwnt.” The boy shook his head, “We got us a
hunter boys, maybe even a cook.” Several yells came from the
mercenaries, of which the boy thought was approval. The boy
points to his chest, “Jaht na.”He uttered. “Well, give the boy a
bow, let’s see how good he does.”
The boy was given a bow, and off he went in the forest. Not long
after her returned with two rabbits, taking them the fire. The
strongholds guard looked at the rabbit, what’s this, em two
rabbits ain’t gonna feed us all ya lazy bastard” The guard then
hit the boy with the hilt of his sword. The boy learned that
failure here would mean being beaten more.
Time marched on and the boy grew into a man, but was little more
than a mistreated slave. The mercenaries sent him on more
dangerous hunts. Many times he came back empty handed and on the
brink of death, and was still beaten for failure.
One day the Half-orc head laughter coming from the keeps great
hall, and then leader came out. “Hey half-breed, go to the cave
where spiders are and bring me back then treasure there… GO!”
The half-orc did as he was told, and traveled many days to Rothé
Valley, down to the Whispering Caverns of the Underdark. As he
approached the cave, the smell of death was strong. He skirted
the cavern, avoiding the cultist there, and finally made it to
the cave. As he descended he heard many voices speaking in a
strange tongue. They seemed to be carrying something in a ritual
like manner. His target was a chest, so he ignored figures.
Downward he continued until he was surprised by a large number
of drakes. The Half-orc loosed his arrows as fast as he could
but there were too many of them. They overcame him and took him
down, however he took the last of them with him. He could feel
his life flowing out of him.
Not far off he heard a lone battle cry, and then the clash of
steel. He heard the familiar scream of men meeting their end,
yet above it all the battle cry still sung out… Sung? He
thought, yes, they battle cray was from a female. The half-orc
forced himself up to look over a rack to see what was going on.
Not far off was what appeared to be an angel of fury, cutting
through the cultists like blades of grass. Then he noticed on
the other side of the cave one of the cultists has the warrior
in his bow-sights. The half-orc mustered all he had left to pull
his bow up and loose his last arrow. The arrows path went
directly over the warriors shoulder straight to its victim,
killing it instantly. The warrior finished off the remaining
cultists, and then searched for the source of the stray arrow.
The warrior noticed a pool of blood coming from behind a rock
near the edge of the cave. As she approached she could see a
severely wounded half-orc, in broken common he said, “No…. hurt…
me…help…” The warrior looked at the arrows in the dead drake
bodies and realized they were fletched the same as the arrow
that killed the cultist archer.
The warrior could see the severity of his would and took out a
potion, “Here, drink this. It will help.” He drank the cool
liquid, and almost immediately his would began to heal and
strengths returned. “You Magik? Make better?” “No, I’m not
magic. It is a healing potion, it heals your wounds. You looked
pretty bad. Why are you here?” replied the warrior.
“Master says come here get treasure, me no get, master hurt…” as
he point to the many scars on his back. “Master?” The warrior
says scornfully, “You mean you’re someone’s slave, and the made
you come here in their place?” The half-orc nodded in reply.
“Why are you a slave?” “Me orc, me no good. Do what told so no
get hurt…”
“Well that just won’t do. Do you have a name?” The half-orc
never had a name. He had been called many thing, but never had a
name… “Uhhh me no have name, only do what told.” “Hmmm, the
warrior replied, “well then did anyone every call you something
you liked?” The half-orc thought long and hard, and remembered
his younger years with the cook, and the work the cook always
used when he brought food… “Krok, cook says krok all time.”
“Well Krok it is then. Krok, it is good to meet you Krok, I am
Chantal.” “Me Krok?” “Yes, that’s as good a name as any, and I
have to call you something.” “Krok… Krok like Krok.”
Why don’t we get you to the stronghold to get you fixed up, can
you travel?” “Krok Travel” It took a few days to get to the
stronghold, and on the journey Chantal told Krok all about her
guild, and how everyone helped each other. How many of the
members had no family so the guild was their family. Up ahead
the stronghold was finally in sight. You could tell it was still
being built, but to Krok it looked better than anyplace he had
been before.
“Greetings Lady Chantal, I see you have brought a guest.” The
Guild Steward said as they entered the stronghold. “Yes, this is
Krok and he is in need of healing. Take him to the cleric.
After a few days of rest with the clerics, a deep voice boomed
in the room, “So, you’re the new guy. I’m Atlas, come show me
what you can do.” Krok followed Atlas out to the practice arena.
Atlas waved his hand at an array of practice weapons, “Pick your
poison Krok.” Krok looked at the weapons saw the bow and picked
it up. “Krok hunt.” “Ok, good, now show me what you can do,”
Atlas said as he pointed towards the practice dummies. Krok
spent the afternoon shooting at the targets, and Atlas soon
realized that Krok had no idea how to really use a bow. Atlas
told Krok, “Look I’m no archer but here are some things you
should be doing…” Atlas took a long while trying to explain to
Krok the proper way to be a true hunter, but Krok did not
understand a lot of what Atlas was saying. Atlas, realizing that
Krok was not comprehending everything he was being told, told
Krok, “Hey, Darkness is one of, if not our best hunter, if
anyone can show you how to be a hunter properly, she can. She is
a Dark Elf, fancy leather armor, you can’t miss her.”
Soon Krok saw a beautiful Dark Elf with a bow, it must be
Darkness. Krok wondered why when he was growing up the Orcs
hated Elves, but Krok did not understand a lot of things. Krok
went up to the Dark Elf, “You Darkness?” Darkness replied in a
melodic voice, “Yes, yes I am, and you are?” “Me Krok, man with
deep voice says you teach Krok be good hunter.” “Oh he did, did
he? I’ll have to thank him later… Ok, first you need a bath,
then something decent to wear. You go take care of that first
and come find me out on Maiden’s Lane.
After Bathing and getting some basic armor, Krok headed out to
Maiden’s Lanes. There was Darkness, waiting. “First things
first, let me see that bow.” Krok handed he the old bow he had
been using. “This bow is a piece of crap…” The she takes the bow
and breaks it across her knee. Then she pulled one of the nicest
bows Krok had ever seen out from some bushes. “This isn’t the
best bow, but better than that thing.
Darkness spent the day showing Krok the proper technique of
being a hunter, in fact, much more than being just an archer.
Darkness Stayed with Krok until she thought he understood what
to do. “Well then, now all you have to do is practice.” “Krok
Practice…” and Krok took off in the woods…
As the sun set, Krok returned to the stronghold, carrying a
couple deer and dragging a large drake. Krok stopped at the
steward and looked at him, “Krok bring food, where go?” The
Steward suddenly snapped to attention. “You must be Krok,” Came
a female Voice from behind, Chantal told me she had brought
someone home with her. Krok, Startled spun around and is a
single movement brought an arrow to bare on the figure. “Who am
you? Why you sneak on Krok?” The female figure just smiled and
nodded her head, pointing down with her eyes. Krok followed he
gaze to see that her sword was a breaths distance from his gut.
“First off, you need to lower your weapon, you have no enemy
here. Second, I am Solace, I am the leader of Dragonsbane, and
this stronghold is the home of Dragonsbane.”
Krok looked up with horror and pain in his eyes, he dropped his
bow and fell to his knees, “No hurt, Krok no no you am master…”
“Get up, no one is going to hurt you here. Chantal told me your
story. You are not a slave anymore.” Krok slowly begins to get
up, looking at Solace, “You leader, you am Master…” “Yes I am
the leader, but I am not your master, you are free.” “But who
tell Krok what do?” “You can do what you want to do, you are
free. If you have no home, you are welcome to join us, or you
can leave and go where ever you like.”
“Krok like here, Krok can stay?” “Yes you can Stay Krok, make
yourself at home.” Krok smiled, and Solace could see a glimmer
of pride in his eyes, “You need something you tell Krok, Krok
do… Krok make Mas…umm Solace happy…” Solace watched as Krok ran
towards the temporary stable and make a bed in the straw for
himself.
“You know, he has potential, for a half-orc” came a voice from
the darkness. “Yes, and he seems to be a quick study,
considering he already quick draws his bow like you do,
Darkness…” The dark Elf comes out and stands beside Solace. “He
needs practice, but, I didn’t show him everything. He has a lot
to learn on his own”
#Post#: 105--------------------------------------------------
Re: Dragonsbane Origins: Krok
DIR By: NamelessMystic
Date: June 1, 2019, 12:41 pm
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Ah, Krok... you were a pain in my ass sometimes, but I miss
you...
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