Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20191023222228/@comment-25828117-20191026115859

Lysilde wandered over to Morin's side and took a potion from the horse's enchanted saddlebags. It was a small thing with a strong herbal scent. She downed it in one and grimaced at the taste. It was just as strong, if not stronger than, the scent.

"Get the others and mount up. We are going." She urged the others. A long journey lay ahead.

Gnosh'ur led his men down the pass. A procession of victorious orcs who had just had the experienced the glory of battle.

Reachmen were on the whole, cowards.

That was what Gnosh'ur had summized from every raid they had done against their encampments. Bar a few brave briarhearts they rarely stood their ground and fought. It was dissapointing. But only a little bit. More land had been gained for Orsimer than there ever had been in the history of the world. And even if the powers that be did not acknowledge it, it was a simple fact of life that the southern Reach from both High Rock and Skyrim, and the upper-eastern corner of Hammerfell were united under the banners of the Orc strongholds. Traveling through these lands, men did at their own peril.

These roads were Orcish roads, these passes were now Orcish passes, and they shall be named accordingly. With names of glorious warriors that died for this honorable dream. Perhaps one day, his own name.

His own flesh and blood would have an eternal home here in these mountains.

In these passes it was almost impossible to march without going through five abreast at the maximum. Less so for those on horseback.

"Bolh!" Gnosh'ur yelled at his lieutenant.

"Make clear to the men that they have to be... orderly. Otherwise we might get stuck."

Bohl, a pale green orc with more scars than you could count nodded and let out an angry barking order where some of the formality was swapped with threats and insults.

It seemed to have got the message across though. The orcs no longer pushed and fought their way forwards through the pass. It was not really a surprise that the men would be so restless. They were going back to see their wives and children at the stronghold just outside the mountains. Gnosh'ur too was glad to be almost home. He could smell the meat soup his dear beloved would always make for him from here.

''"Mmm... meat soup." He thought.''

The evening sun was shining just perfectly into the pass. Golden rays licked the steep mountain sides on either side and those at the front of the procession could feel the gentle warmth. It was autumn and the winter months would soon be upon them.

It almost felt like they were drawn to the light.

Gnosh'ur turned to Bolh with a pleased grin that bared his tusks in full.

"You know this-"

In a second Bohl was gone. As was his horse and a loud bang made final the landing of a large boulder on his lieutenant's head and mount. Both were dead in an instant.

"What!" There was hardly room to turn here and his own mount was rearing in panic from the tremors caused by the impact.

When Gnosh'ur looked back he could see boulders that had previously been insvisible on the mountainsides, rain down on the procession that was trapped in the narrow passage.

"Ambush!" He yelled, as it wasn't obvious already.

Reachmen tossed stones and boulders down on the Orcs with no sign of stopping. Others were pelting them not with stones but with arrows.

After he had calmed his horse, Gnosh'ur pulled his own bow and took aim at the nearest reachman he could see up on the rocks

Unfortunately for him he saw from the corner of his eye a bear leap down and onto him. He got an arrow into the beast's shoulder but that was not enough to stop the angry animal from landing down on him and his horse.

Gnosh'ur yelled and tried to fight but he was no match for the sheer power of this huge bear that had been painted with markings of the reachmen. He had heard of a bear fighting with them but to actually see it was another thing entirely. He was mauled to death in a few seconds.

His blood poured out here into these mountains.

17th of Frost Fall

Just over two weeks they had marched across Summerset. Mostly avoiding settlements and towns because of their status as trespassers. In one town Lysilde had narrowly talked them out of an arrest when she showed the golden eagle signature. Luckily they hadn't inspected it too close.

Now the meadows and forests made way for rising rocks and cliffs. They were at the foot of Eton Nir. Cloudrest lay somewhere within this mountain range.

"This is gonna be oblivion on the calves." Helian joked. It was almost like being back in the Jeralls. Only. Without the snow.