Convergence

[Ioder]

I often find myself thinking, how did I get myself in a situation like this? There I was surrounded by a band of blood thirsty orcs without a blade on hand. Like the faithful soldier I was to my lord Ioder I came to the war torn marshlands of norther Dehlos unarmed as instructed. I didn’t understand his methods but my lord stressed the importance of having and empty sheath when I made contact with our man of the hour.

With my boots firmly planted in the fresh mud of the Delosian muck I stood with fists clenched tight. Normally my hand would fall to the hilt of my trusted blade, but alas I’m left with a cold pit in my stomach. As the orcs circled me with ferocity in their eyes I quickly go over my options. I counted seven iron clad orcs all with large axes dripping with the blood of a fresh kill. There was the scent of fresh blood in the air; I must have wandered on a hunting party or something akin to it in orcish culture. Without my blade I am left with only one option, I must flee and make my way to the target.

My task was to find the defector of the Tarot Hierarchy, but not as an envoy of the kinship, as and envoy of my lord personally. I am a member of The Risen, a group of My Lord Ioder’s most trusted soldiers. I am merely a tool, a means for my lord to achieve his ultimate goal. I am disposable yet indispensable. Where I would fall, two more worthier than me would storm full force in my wake. Because to die in service of my lord is to die with honor, absolved of all my sins.

I stood in the mud for a moment, my eyes locked with that of my enemies. Myself and the orc whom I had chosen as my focus shared a stoic moment before the brutish growling began. I couldn’t tell if this was some sort of intimidation technique of the orcs or were they communicating with each other. Shivers rushed down my spine and I wavered for the briefest of moments. And in that slightest of breaks in my concentration our eye contact was broken.

Mud was thrown in the air from all around me. The party of orcs made the first move, from every direction sharpened axes were closing in on me. As the first of the crazed orcs lunged at me I pluck my boot from its tomb in the mud and begin a frontal charge with arms thrown back. I had only a moment to formulate my escape plan. Surrounding us all around were protruding tendrils of the native marsh plants. We were in a clearing but just beyond my enemies was a thick brush. My cloak was like and orange blur as I duck under the swing of the first orc’s axe. With only seconds to recover my stride before the next swing of steel sliced the tail of my orange garb. But I continued on adrenalin now pumping through my veins.

Then the impossible happens, as it often does in situations like these. The thick mud covering the area hardened as I firmly planted my feet on subterranean roots giving me my bearings back. With newfound footing I hastened my dash easily maneuvering past the last few orcs blocking my path and then I was pushing the brush. Breaking the foreign branches as I dipped into the thicket and continued in the direction of the mercenary camp I was certain was in this direction. I never gave into the exhaustion that was plaguing me, the sounds of raging orcs hot on my trail proved to be a good motivator.

I ran for what seemed to be an eternity before the sounds of the orcs were a faint memory. I assumed numerous scrapes and bruises from the thick brush and I If said my nerves were calm I would be lying. But a wondrous feeling wafted over me as I saw smoke rising in the distance. It appeared that I had made it to my destination and from here on I could relax a bit. My mark was close, and after I deliver this message my mission is complete. I am The Runner, I never miss an engagement.

“Tobias Stalt, I have a message for you.”

[Tobias Stalt]

A series of whistles, almost vividly reminiscent of birdsong resounded as the runner burst into the clearing. While the encampment was clearly present, the population did not seem to be. He stood in a large open space surrounded by tents and flora, and to the best of his knowledge he could hear none of the sounds that denoted intelligent life. "Tobias Stalt, I have a message for you." His words rang clear and loudly, but met with no initial response.

Several loud and brutish noises that sounded like language barreled through the brush behind him, and the messenger turned about face to the disheartening sight of his orcish pursuers. "Unarmed, he said. Really..." The man, garbed and ranked visually as one of Ioder's Risen, made two steps backward as the beastly humanoids stalked forward and raised their weapons. "Well, this is incredibly inconvenient."

Several streaks of black accompanied by soft whispers grew into a chorus of slurps and blossoms of blood. Menacings orcs folded on themselves as the shafts of dark arrows tore deep into their throats. "Identify yourself." The command came from several feet behind him, and the runner glanced over his shoulder at the man with an arrow nocked astride his longbow. His deep oaken eyes bored distrustfully into the messenger, more tense than usual at the use of his captain's name and not rank. "And state your business."

"At ease, Anton," a weary voice called from inside one of the tents. "I know this man. And he should have been informed," Tobias strode out from the tent and made a half motion with one hand. "I gave explicit instructions that I was not to be followed. I felt the medium carried an equally compelling message about what might occur if I was. Bearing that in mind, as my friend has already asked, what is your business with me?"

Anton slowly lowered his weapon and relaxed his aim. His scowl passed over the runner before fading, and the marksman headed back toward the tent. Tobias folded his arms and listened patiently.

[Ioder]

I could still feel the speckles of blood that erupted upon my face as the orcs fell to the arrows of the merc. I knew my life could be ended just as quickly if I made the wrong move. Once again I agreed to track this man down, he who has killed many of my brothers and sisters and was clearly a threat. A sharp pain shoots up my arm, I was hurt. Slowly I move my hand up to my shoulder and feel my blood drenched shoulder. The color of my cloak quickly stains red and I fall to one knee.

“Forgive me, for my lord Ioder has a message for you.” I blurt out as I clench my shoulder tight. I must have gashed my shoulder running through the dense and sharp brush of this foreign land. The thick skin of the orcs allow them to call these mashes their home, they can withstand dangerous terrain far better than any average man or elf. I catch myself painting from exhaustion and pain, “… In cloak I have with me a sealed letter from my lord.” Closely I examine Tobias’ small gesture instructing me to reach slowly for the letter. With my uninjured arm I ruffle though my cloak and pull out one letter the color of crimson.

“Throw it over.” He hissed as I revealed my package.

I don’t disappoint as I rear back my arm and toss the envelop. It was made from sturdy parchment and had enough weight to it to glide through the air perfectly to the rouge Major Arcana. It didn’t take long for Tobias to examine the letter and rip open its seal. While the exchange was happening the other mercs of the camp started to emerge.

I scan the soldiers as they appear. Before I lost count I saw ten or twelve full armed bodies patrolling the grounds. All of them seemed just as deadly as Tobias himself. Much like the members of The Risen these men seemed well trained and coordinated like a deadly unit ready to strike on a moment’s notice, or just on impulse.

The Letter read as fallowed,

Death,

I have traveled to a neighboring trading city about a day’s ride form your camp, we need to talk. Make your way to the southern trading post and I meet you in the center of town dressed in the cloak of my followers.

I have sent you my envoy Runner to deliver this message to you, if he was successful please arm him with a dagger and send him on his way. If you have found this on his body do what is done in your troop to honor a fallen soldier.

-Judgement

All I could do was wait for Tobias to decide whether my life was worth sparing. Unlike my brothers he had killed before now.