Opportunity Knocks
“I love you too,
father.” Gaius had spoken those words
over a year ago, and he has still to welcome his father home again. Though he had easily passed all the tests, he
rashly refused to leave the castle for the Crusader’s War College. He was determined to be there when his father
returned. He trained daily. Unlike his father, he was not an easy man to
like, but he visited the barracks and hospital often looking for word of his
father. Convalescing veterans bored of waiting for their wounds to heal would
show him moves that one did not learn in war colleges.
This morning, he
stood before the door of Sir Kyras, one of the leaders of his fathers’
unit. His trident in one hand, he
fumbled the parchment of Kyras’ letter in his other. The letter had been brief. “Come to the command tower at dawn,” was all
it said.
He shoved the
letter in his belt pouch and knocked on the door.
“Come”, said
Sargent Kyras. Gaius opened the door and
entered. “Close the door and have a
seat, Gaius.”
As Gaius sat, he
noticed the burns on Kyras neck that no doubt continued beneath his mail
shirt. The knight ignored the boy’s
stare and proceeded, “I served often beside your father, you are certainly his
son. He was a good man….”
“IS a good man,”
Gaius interrupted, “…sir.”Kyras ignored the youth’s imprudence. “Your father has been missing for over a year now, Gaius. Scouts have returned with no trace of him or his patrol. He volunteered for a dangerous mission. I know this is difficult to accept, but….”
“Until I see proof,” Gaius protested, “I refuse to accept that he is dead. My father is a valiant and resourceful warrior.”
“Yes, strong as an ox, smart, nimble and stubborn as hell, much like his son….very well.” The veteran changed the subject as sharply as a phalanx changes direction in a left flank march. “I called you in here because we have an assignment for you, should you choose to accept.”
“Am I to be a squire, sir?”
“No, you would essentially be an auxiliary to the watch. With that designation, we have more leeway concerning induction. I know these things are important to you.”
“Will I be a knight,” Gaius asked, perplexed.
“No. An auxiliary to the watch is more of a…”
A soldier appeared in the door and said sharply, “He is here, sir.” His breath whistled through a nose that never healed properly after at least one break.
Kyras stood, and Gaius saw the height and obvious strength of the old man. The last two digits of his left hand were missing. “Help yourself to some water if you like, Gaius. I’ll be back shortly.”
With that, Kyras walked out.
Gaius perused the small command room. It was stark. A shelf with less than a dozen books was mounted along one wall. Between The Code of the Ozem and Pole Arm Techniques was a strange tittle, Wonders of the Azlanti Dwarves. He was finishing a cup of water when Kyras stepped into the room and told to come to the war room. An elven half breed followed hard upon the knight’s heals. Their glances met and the two sized each other up quickly. As far as Gaius could tell, the half-elf was not much older than himself, but then, who could tell with these ageless sylvans. This youthful looking archer could have drunk ale with Cayden Cailean for all he knew. He was dressed typically for those woodland folk and carried a bow along with a quiver brimming with arrows.
They turned the corner and saw Kyras approach a man dressed in scale armor similar to that which Gaius himself wore. Gaius knew the man was Sebastian Slade, a low ranking cleric in the order of Serenrae. He had often seen Sebastian tending to the wounded in the castle, but this was the first time he had been so close to the priest, and Slade was obviously no man at all. The priest’s features reminded him of the statues of heroes he had seen when he visited Vigil with his father. His skin was pale, akin to the marble of those same statues, but his eyes almost glowed with a golden light, and his hair shone like spun silver. Sebastian Slade was one of the god-touched Aasimar. Somewhere in his ancestral tombs, there lay a woman who had indiscretions with some mischievous outsider. Though they are generally good beings, indeed, bordering on saintly, to Gaius, the Aasimar were still inhuman aberrations, and like the elven creole standing next to him, probably had no true concept of mortality... of humanity. Standing next to Sebastian was a pure blood elf; his blue robes and tall ornate staff identified him as a wizard. Gaius began to wonder what the trickster goddess Calistria was about to toss into his path.
“Sebastian” Kyras began. “This is Cryx Darkmoon,” he said motioning to the half-elven archer, “…and Gaius. Cryx is from the Fangwood and eager to help against the One Eyes. I believe you knew Gaius’s father well.”
“Sebastian Slade, cleric of Sarenrae.” The Aasimar almost sang while bowing slightly toward Cryx and Gaius. “…Greetings and felicitations upon you both, and to you, Sir Kyras. May I acquaint you with Caladrel Drissendun, recently of Varisia. Like yourself, Cryx Darkmoon, he was born in Oillv’ameewla.” He paused after using the elven name for Fangwood forest, allowing Cryx and Caladrel time to greet one another. After a moment of silence, he addressed the knight, “Sir Kyras, is this the extent of our party? Will you tell us of this urgent business for which you summoned us?”
Gaius could tell that much of Sebastian’s formalities were forced. The Aasimar was as uncomfortable and confused as he was. Maybe Sebastian Slade was just as young in god-touched years as he was in those of a human.
“All will be made clear shortly,” Kyras replied. “I would ask you to stow your weapons on the rack, but the laws of the castle forbid any able bodied man or woman to be unarmed within its walls. Ergo, I ask that you not overreact to what you are about to see. Keep your weapons sheathed and your bow unready.” He said the last words to the half-elf who seemed tense in these unfamiliar surroundings.
Kyras lowered his eyes and he took a deep breath. Gods help him, he knew he was a fool for what he was about to do. All these young men have such promise and their entire lives ahead of them, especially Gaius. To be used the same way his father had. Kyras knew he would have to crawl many times in rags upon the temple steps as penance for this deed. He released his breath, failing to stifle a tired sigh. There was nothing else to be done. They could not risk seasoned soldiers on such a fool’s errand. The Watcher-lord himself had said it must be so, and the two Precentors Martial who had brought word refused him when he volunteered. He was following orders. Iomedae would understand.
He stepped to the door of an antechamber. “I want to introduce you to some diplomats who have recently arrived.” He took another breath and opened the door.
To everyone’s horror, beyond the door, standing around the polished oak war table showing a large map of Golarion and flanked by no less than a dozen knights, were six of the most vile creatures that could ever have dared to occupy such a great room….ORCS.
Forgetting the warning, Cryx quickly drew his bow…arrow notched before anyone blinked. Luckily, Kyras anticipated this, and stood between Cryx and the Orcs.
“LOWER YOUR BOW… NOW!!!!” the hoary knight snapped. Cryx obeyed. How a man’s voice could have such power surprised him.
Sebastian was the first to speak, “What is the meaning of this?”
The large Orc in the middle broke into a hearty laugh, his huge gut bouncing; spit flying and desecrating the magnificent table as he did. The Knights took an uneasy step between the Orcs and the outraged party.
“Hahh nro' rhago hon haho zrahthok,” the orc bellowed, and his comrades joined in his amusement.
“Grn'bah hakt hagnok,” Kyras commanded, and the orcs slowly quieted. Still unable, after so many years, to turn his back on these goblin-kin, He continued to face them as he addressed the band of adventurers he assembled. “They bring us an offer which may turn the tide of this war in our favor. This is Goruk,” He pointed out the large mirthful one. “He is chieftain of the Haskodars orcs out of Blisterwell. With him are his bodyguards Shakatrog, Brag, Hognell, Musk, and Guk. They bring news from Blisterwell, and an offer that…well,…we should probably consider.” He focused his attention on the orc chieftain. “Goruk, this is the group we will charge with the expedition… should they agree to volunteer, for all are free in Lastwall. I know you don’t understand that. The closest word you have is ‘hootur.’” He seemed to take some pleasure in this verbal jab. “You can fill them in on the details, then leave to allow us to discuss while awaiting their decision.”
Goruk eyed everyone from across the room. He shared surprise in his own regard that such a small rag-tag group of children would be charged of such an important mission. Just like rrhakg, humans. What was their saying? They cut off their nose to spite their face. Vermin. It is only the current lack of a chief of chiefs that has the tribes at each other’s throats. A fact he plans to personally change one day. For now, he made a mental note to torture his next captive slower than usual to purge his soul of this corruption.
The ‘expeditions’’ team stared at the scars on Goruk’s face and his half missing ear. His wounds are the only field decorations an orcs receive, and they wear these ‘badges’ with honor. They noticed that his left arm was burned so severely that he could no longer straighten it all the way. Goruk felt their stares and sneered. He saw no such trophies on the humans and elves before him. He turned away and addressed the group without looking at them anymore. His common speech was broken, but what he did speak was impressive for an orc.
“As the other human says, we are from Blisterwell, many nights march from here. Another tribe… One Eyes…. Live there too. Haskodars do not like the One Eyes. One Eyes want to command Blisterwell…. Haskodars wants to command Blisterwell. Both live in peace….for now. Not long ago, One Eyes capture Princess Jtarn Phet. Uthgan Phet, Father of Jtarn Phet, is king of Fangford clan of stone giants. Now, Uthgan Phet’s armies fight with One Eyes or they say they kill princess. One Eyes fight Broken Spine tribe now, but Goruk know when finished, Haskodars are next. Haskodars find cave where princess is, but Haskodars cannot free her or One Eyes attack. Haskodars cannot tell Uthgan Phet where daughter is….or One Eyes attack. Haskodars go to other tribes, tell them to free princess. Other tribes think Haskodars lie, and no help. Goruk think, maybe humans help. Shakatrog can lead humans to princess, then free her. Uthgan Phet then attacks One Eyes….and One Eyes stop attacking humans to fight stone giant army.”
Goruk pauses and looks to Shakatrog, as if to say more about him, but the expression of disgust on an orc face was not much unlike that of a man. Gurok reconsidered, and turned back to Kyras, “Goruk go now. We leave when sun goes down… with or without humans.” He and the other orcs started for the door, as the nervous knights instinctively move to block his path. The large Orc paused, poorly feigning conceit and respect, and the knights escorted them out of the room.
