Heroes of the Fall

[Erik Vale]

Kalandor

Kalandor smiles as he listens to the tune, enjoying it's simplicity as he logs it within his head. It seemed that all his siblings had taken to singing.

Embarrassed, Bahbi looked over at Uncle Goose, and coughed. "Creator-Father-Mother had us learn about each of you. Some of us found things about each of you that we liked. I always liked exploring and stories. I guess... I guess when the fighting started, and I got scared, I stayed close to one of Creator-Father-Mother's siblings... and I was just happy it was you.

I've always admired everything that we've heard about you, Uncle Goose. Even when Creator-Father-Mother kept saying how you were the baby of the family, and could use a few polite whacks on your thick skull, I could tell she cared for you a great deal. So with the fighting going on, I just... followed. Was that not all right?"

"Oh no, it is entirely all right, I just wondered if there was a message or some such... It's actually been quite a while scince I have travelled with anyone, and your reason is as good as any other. Though I will ask you, would you like to travel with me a while, perhaps see where I get some of my stories from?"

Oppening a small wrap from a thin loaf of bread, Kalandor breaks it in half. Reaching acroos with his other hand, he removes the lid of the soup pot releasing the smell of a rather salty [He liked salt... He loved it, he actually had a few rocks of the stuff] bird soup. With a little thought a second pair of arms appear bellow his first, grabbing 4 cups and two plates, one set of 2 large almost bowl sized cups, and one set of two thick walled drinking cups, with very basic wooden plates. Quickly he laid them down and pourd some soup and tea with their bread side.

"The tea will carry, but we might as well travel full, wheverver we go."

Ganatha
It wasn't every day an orc died.
It wasn't every year he did going to toilet.
It was only the past decade it was due to sword wounds like licks to vital points.
It was onle the past century they had started cropping up.
The Killing Saints.

The more religious [The Chief Included] made the motion of a walking man with a staff. It was the first death, they could be hunted, they could not. A meeting would be called the next morning followed by a night of warried watching and mourning, as the orcs set up camp immidiately. It was a drill that one survivor clan of a hunt had told others of at the meetings. After a week of being noticed and chased out, the Saint left with much fewer casualties than he could have. The Camp wasn't as good as it could be, but for now it would have to do, everyone was shocked. Ganatha was on edge, one of his elite was dead, and none were to bear witness... His blade wasn't even wet with blood, and he wasn't a follower of Kalandor.
Ganatha sincerely hoped that battles of the past would let the soul of his friend be taken by the old gods...

Melany
"You."
"Please don't bother me priest. If you don't notice I have herbs to collect."
"Pah. Look at me witch."
"Careful with your words. You follow a god who agrees wth us."
"Horse raddish. Your to come with me."
"Your a patient man. Go be so, I shant be more than 10 minutes."
"No, You are being called to heel."
"Pah. Leave me to my work preacher man, I'll head to your precious town square when I'm done."
"You court danger. Take not to long, let you find bigger men comming for you."
"And I will fear them not, for they are Kalandor fearing men and I am as faithful to his cause as the wind. Your words have no purchase on me."

In a huff, the preacher turns and leaves, his robes stained green with grass over the ceremonial green/brown staining. Kalandor wasn't much for priests, and should he wander here...
'The preacher will be reminded to preach the whole scripture.'