Tides of Battle Chapter 1: Genesis
This is a story that just spring up in my mind one day, and although this chapter is a bit dry, it will eventually get reworked a bit. Leave comments if you like it or have criticism, I'm more than open to such things.
-Kain
http://www.sofurry.com/page/194407 Chapter 1: Genesis
http://www.sofurry.com/page/194464 Chapter 2: Slavery
http://www.sofurry.com/page/194476 Chapter 3: Arena
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TIDES OF BATTLE Chapter 1: Genesis
In this world, we are all born in blood and violence. And the greatest majority of us exit in the same manner. So did my life begin.
I was born in a small cave a few miles north of the gnomish city, Gearstaff. Our family group lived in a fair sized encampment, dug into the cliff walls. From the top of them you can see that city, in all it's wonderful splendor. The smoking wafts of steam from their industry, the faint smells of cooking from their culinary district, and always the strong smell of grease and ozone, when the wind blew from the south. I was born a flind, more specifically, a wild Gnoll of the Bloodtooth tribe. The nature of rearing in our tribe was brutal. Had my mother not been a strong Shaman of our people, one of the elder males would likely have eaten me. I remember many loud arguments about lack of food, and why she wouldn't let them just take me. I remember cowering in a smaller burrow in the back of our gave while the sounds of enraged fighting, the barks, yips, and whines that make up the spoken language of Flind raging back and forth, echoing in my sensitive ears. But always, Mother would end the fight with a loud bark, or a loud crack as her oaken staff staved in the head of another would be dominant male.
I grew quickly as a pup, and the Chief would visit our cave, and Mother always taught me to revere with great respect, lest he end my life. She had no power over him, she would say, and to go against him would surely mean both our deaths. The talks we had about the Leader of our tribe were always brief, and she would cut off questions crisply, cuffing me about the snout if I got too curious. I came to learn as I grew the names of those around me, including my own. I was called Vekk. My mother was Urhan. Or more literally Ur-han. Han being the additive title at the end of names in our tongue for someone who held the tradition of shaman. Our chief was known as Enker-ath. Ath being of course the title for leader. By my fourth summer my pup's down had been replaced with an adolescent coat of coarser fur, and the spots in my reddish grey mane were still bright, marking me as a young one. It was time I become useful to the tribe.
My mother set about the coarse of teaching me Shaman tradition, in the hopes that as she got older i would become her apprentice, and eventually take her place. I learned our lore, the nature of the spirits that all gnolls revere, the nature of the God of slaughter that we feast and sacrifice to, and the nature of our moon celebrations. I was strong enough to carry a pack to bring back additional herbs for medicines and poultices when we went out of the camp and north east past Lake Thresh for the herb fields on the shore. When we would return from these trips, mother would show me which herbs would heal a wound. Which would stop bleeding, or pain. She also showed me which herbs to chew to make a stronger poultice, or which to mash together and add spring water to cure poisons. She taught me to use my craft in the way all gnolls did, to support the family, but to protect myself as well. I learned more than a few concoctions that had no taste, but were sure to put a beast to sleep. Or a salve that, if ingested, would cause a full grown Orc to keel over and die with no outward sign.
It only came to when I was on my 8th summer, and Mother was trying to teach me the distinct art of Shaman magics, the very thing that gave her her power over the tribe that my tutelage faltered. No matter how I tried I couldn't grasp the spark. I had the knowledge, and gods know I wanted to, but there was nothing that I could do. I made no progress, and so, by my 8th winter, she had decided we would have no more lessons. She was greatly dissapointed, and became short with me on many occasions. She would rap me across the snout for not paying attention, and she would bare her teeth at me threateningly when I dared to step out of line. I know now that this was her sign that I should leave. That I was old enough to take care of myself and should commit myself to a different profession. So in my 9th spring, I took all the things I owned, which didn't amount to terribly much, and I left the safety of our cave.
To a Gnoll, beyond his own survival, the Tribe is everything. I had to make myself useful somehow. I was a strong, stout young Gnoll, confident that after leaving the den, I could do something for the Tribe. I could make a difference somewhere, but i could not survive on my own. I set out for the Warrior's circle at the top of the cliffs to the north. On my shorter legs it took me a day or two to make the trip, but I had traveled this way many times with my mother, and it was an uneventful trip. Nevertheless when I arrived, I was thirsty, and hungry. As I helped myself to a waterskin at the edge of the camp, I learned the first lesson I received as a warrior, and one I'll never forget. As the first swallow passed my parched throat, a massive hand smashed into the side of my head. Stars burst in my vision, and I very nearly blacked out. My eyes strove to focus while My ears swivelled towards the sound of an extremely huge, scarred Gnoll, wearing rusted, stolen armor. Plates, chainmail, scale, and leather studded pieces all mismatched to prove this giant of a gnoll had killed many enemies and taken many victories.
"...And don't think you'll be taking another swig until you've earned it, Pup!" He barked, my vision finally focusing as he reared his massive fist back to strike me again. I yipped and very narrowly dodged it, his claw raking my cheek hard enough to draw blood. I hadn't the slightest clue what I'd done, but apparently I'd earned his anger. He kept after me, snarling insults and threats at me with every step, with those ham-sized paws crashing down as if to punctuate his sentences with blows. " I'll beat you within an inch of your life, you insolent little shit!" I had barely reeled back away from another blow when his foot swung forward and caught me in the stomach, doubling me over in pain. I had barely enough time to feel the first one before another kick smashed into my jaw, sprawling me in the dirt and filling my mouth with blood. The group of warriors that had gathered to watch were laughing at me. The high pitched cackle of savage Gnolls reveling in the sight of violence is never something anyone who has ever heard it would forget. I felt something crash into my ribs and scoot me a few feet through the dirt, and the huge gnoll snarled aloud. " Get up, you little bastard, so I can knock you over again!" Pain wracked my ribs, my jaw, my stomach. My whole body hurt from walking, and I was parched and hungry. I felt angry. for the first time in my life I felt angry. I had done nothing that I could understand was wrong, and was getting beaten for it. The pain and the anger, and all my recent troubles culminated in a single moment. As he reached down to pick me up by my mane, presumably to throw me back to the ground, I snarled and sunk my blood covered teeth into his massive paw, right between the thumb and clawfingers. My adolescent snout fit snugly right into the indentation, and he gave a yelp of surprise, yanking me up off the ground and digging my teeth furthur into his flesh. He whalloped me a good blow in the chest with his closed other paw and as my breath left my chest, he flung me. Head over heel I flew through the air. I couldn't tell how long but the dull thud of my skull smacking into the ground was enough to let me know i'd landed. I was senseless, near unconscious, and exhausted. I tried to get up, and just couldn't find the strength. I could see the gnoll staring at his paw, oozing blood through the decent-sized punture wounds I had made. My only regret was that I hadn't been able to do more. The anger that fueled my effort had not burned out, but my body had been beaten. I stared at the huge Gnoll, a snarl baring my blood covered fangs as my head laid in the dust, my eyes hazy and unfocused. He continued to stare at his hand for a few more seconds, every tooth in his maw bared, before i heard a sound that made no sense. So much i almost thought I was hallucinating. The big bastard was cackling. Laughing at me! He strode over to me and effortlessly picked me up with his good paw. "You..." He said between bouts of cackling, right in my face. His breath smelled like rotting meat and old blood. "You got some heart, little pup. Maybe we'll let you stay after all."
They sat me down by the fire and gave me a skin of water and a fire-cooked rat on a stick. It wasn't much, but I was grateful. I was still angry, and I was sore, but I was fed, and at least I wasn't getting beaten. I spit a tooth out after my third bite of rat, but soon the warm meat and water combined with my exhaustion and soreness, and I had curled up next to the fire with my tail over my snout and gone to sleep.
The next day I was awoken with a light, stinging kick in the ribs. " Oi, get up." The huge Gnoll that had beaten me yesterday was towering over me. The sun had barely cracked the horizon and I was still sore. "What is it?" I asked, earning myself another slightly more unpleasant kick for being so impertinent. " I said, get up, pup! And that's what you ought to do! Need I remind you again of yesterday?" He asked. I grumbled and stood, spitting the bad taste of blood out of my mouth and picking up my things. He led me over to a group of thatched huts, where the younger warriors were housed, until they proved themselves, and pointed one out to me. " You sleep there. You live there. That's your new home until you've earned something better." He turned around and walked off. I pushed open the small curtain and stepped inside. The smell was thick and there were at least 10 other gnolls in the hut, curled up around each other for warmth. Rusty weapons and picked clean bones strew through the tent, and around the small firepit in the middle. I put down my small pack and curled around it. A few of the other adolescents stirred and chuffed in my direction before going back to sleep. I dozed off for a little while longer. I woke to the smell of cooking meat and the growls and yips of friendly playing. I looked up to spot a few of the adolescents tussling, a few sharpening their spears or axes, and a few still sleeping. The sun was up a ways and there were Gnolls busying themselves outside, stretching, or fighting or hunting or playing. I walked out of the little hut and couldn't help but smile. This was the same as the little village I had come from, with the cooks and the weavers. It just happened that there was a warrior encampment to one side. I got from one of the cook-Gnolls a haunch of some undiscernable meat and sat next to another adolescent who'd done the same.
"So.. what do we do here?" I asked. I knew what warriors did, I thought. I just didn't think we could be all the warriors in the tribe. "Well, we're one of five camps. The Chief runs the centermost camp, closest to the little people's city. The Warleaders run the individual warcamps, where all the tribe's warriors are. Ingik is the one in charge here. He's the big gnoll that tanned your hide yesterday. And yes, we all saw it." I growled my displeasure and retreated into my meal. The other adolescent smirked, baring a few fangs and said. " That was ballsy though, that little bite. If he hadn't been thinking, Ingik probably would've torn your throat out. By the way, My name is Kyn. Daughter of Gris. What's yours?" She said. " Oh. My name's Vekk. Son of Urhan." We debated a while longer, as she told me her story of coming to the warrior camp. She was only in her ninth year, and not much older than me. She'd been chased out by her father because her mother had wanted more pups, and had made the walk from two camps to the west, by the Tindermont Hills. There was news of a Human caravan passing by today, and the news made her smile. " We're going to take everything they've got." She said maliciously. I smiled too. I'd been told all kinds of terrible stories about humans by mother. And she'd taught me that the only way to make humans any better was to use them as slaves and when they outlived their usefulness, kill them. They were gnoll-slayers, and called it righteous. Humans were a bane to our kind and the only good for them was death. " So where and when are they going by?" I asked. By this time the sun was high in the sky, and we'd been sitting for a few hours. " Sometime this evening." She had said. And that was when we heard the first cries.
An adult grey-maned gnoll spilled backwards, dropping a jug of water, an arrow sticking defiantly out of his eye. His bark brought the attention of anyone within distance. Some stopped and stared. Before a whistling thunk struck another one of my kin not ten feet from me. The arrow buried itself in her neck and the strangled gurgle of blood bubbling past her fingers as she died set my blood on fire with fear. " ATTACK!" I barked, scrambling for the Warrior's tent with Kyn hot on my heels. "Warmaster, we're being attacked!" I yelped, waking the old gnarled gnoll from his slumber. Without missing a beat he was up and wielding a broad axe at least twice as tall as myself. Sprinting towards the direction we'd come he called for all the Clan. " ATTACK! KILL THEM ALL AND EAT THEIR BONES!" He bellowed, slaver dripping from his tongue as he rushed headfirst into battle, bearing his axe. We followed behind a few steps, but only because he was faster, and his long legs strode away from us with great speed. As the warriors poured toward the wood, the arrows sticking out of unprotected faces and throats and chests mounted. The stench of blood was on the wind and there were far too many arrows for the number of attackers we had thought. Within minutes the camp was decimated. They had guessed that our strategy would have been to mass against them and crush them under numbers, and then smash our numbers with firepower. Humans, even after all this time, are still the cruelest and most efficient creatures at mass fighting.
As myself and Kyn lay cringing behind some fallen trees the creatures made themselves known. Two humans in shining plate and two elves in cloaks and leather carrying what looked to be some strange form of crossbow edged towards the camp. I saw them strip the armor from fallen comrades. Saw them smile as they appraised the goods in our warehouses. Heard them laugh as they slew the still living injured. I wasn't full grown. But I couldn't contain my anger. My soreness lifted, my anger grew into rage. How dare they? How dare they take Family? They attacked the camp! They would pay! I clawed my way from behind the cover of the trees and Kyn grabbed me, trying to pull me back. I pulled free from her grasp and sprinted, the swiftest i'd ever run, directly towards one of those elves. I would kill him. For killing Gnolls, he would die! I leapt towards them, screaming through the air as my claws descended towards the frail, pink thing. But they must have heard me. Up to plate steps the Human in plate-mail, wielding a club the size of a small tree. I try to change my course in the air but am completely unable. The club impacts my already sore chest. I hear things crack and feel something terrible crunch into my lungs. I can't breath, I can't think. I hear one of the Elves mutter something and as my back crashes into the ground I see Kyn leaping behind me, slavering and screaming her own rage. i saw the arrow hit her and heard her yelp before I blacked out.