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Lechner swings wildly at the orc warrior, but the orc easily deflect the blow with his falchion. He laughs at your feeble strike, and brings his sword around for the counter.
The orc's laughter is the last thing Lechner remembers hearing before she falls unconscious.
She dreams of his laughter. She hears his laughter echo inside her mind. She sees the orc's face laughing at her, with a background of raging brimstone and fire roaring around him.
Everywhere you run is not far enough. Everywhere you hide is not dark enough. Every disgiuse you don is not effective enough. He can see you. He can smell you. He is after you.
Then, Lechner wakes up with a sudden start. She immediately feels a sharp pain where the falchion sliced her across her chest. She looks down to see that it is bandaged.
Lechner is in a dark cave, wrapped up in a bedroll. There is bread and water laying next to her, and a small campfire with a pot hanging over it. There is a repetitive plop, plop, plop sound of water hitting the cave floor somewhere nearby.
There is no sign of the person that may have put her here.
Wincing, Lechner takes in her surroundings. She can't see perfectly in the dark, but her half-elf eyes have a better run at it than some.
She considers putting her top back on, but decides she's too sore for it just now---the bandages are cover enough for now.
Taking the bread and water, she starts to eat, not wasting any of it.
When she finishes eating, she notices a neatly folded piece of parchment next to her. In bold, neat handwriting, it says:
"You have the pontential to be a worthy opponent. Killing such a weak whelp would have done nothing for me. Take this food and heal up. We will meet again when you are better prepared to fight.
Lechner blinks a while. The orc... decided to save her.
On one hand, she's alive, she's been tended to, and as far as she can tell nothing of her belongings has been taken. Hell, her stuff's better-organized than before! The orc's reasoning makes sense too, mostly.
On the other hand... was honor really an orc thing? She didn't expect that; most of the orcs she's heard of weren't exactly honorable-sounding, but maybe Mr. Thurashk is different. He's certainly got good penmanship.
Scooting out of the bedroll, she starts to dress with a few winces. Getting a charred twig from the fire, she does her best to write neatly on the back of the letter. It's not all that easy, so she has to make her reply a little basic.
Quote:
DEAR MISTER ISCOTHRUA ORC GUY
THANKS FOR PATCHING ME UP + REORGANIZING GEAR
WILL BE STRONGER WHEN WE MEET AGAIN
XOXO,
LECHNER
She places the note somewhere that looks dry and safe and easy to find, then checks the pot over the fire.
The pot smells of some kind of spiced stew with meat and vegetables. It is very hot, and there is an empty bowl, a spoon, and a serving spoon next to the fire.
He even made dinner for her.
That's... kind of sweet, she decides, in a weird honor-nemesis way.
Eagerly, she spoons out a bowl for herself and begins to eat, with plenty of blowing to avoid burning her tongue. Between her second and third bowls, she adds a brief 'PS. THANKS FOR STEW WAS NICE' to her note.
Lechner steps outside, squinting her eyes at the sudden brightness. She stands in a ravine that holds a slow moving line of water in the center. The area is lightly forested and the rush of new, natural scents is welcome over the old dusky smell of the cave.
Lechner sees seperated groups of smoke over the curve of the ravine on her left, a sign of a well-emplaced establishment, roughly the size of a small town. In the oppasite direction, she sees mountains going high up, causing the river in the ravine to travel toward the direction of the supposed establishment.
It doesn't take you long to reach the town. It is very small, and is inhabited by mostly humans, some elves and a few dwarves. There are a few merchants selling all kinds of mundane items, a few places to eat, and an inn if you would like to rest.
You also notice a small group of soldiers donning armor and weapons and packing gear onto horses. It is like they are getting ready to go to battle.
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A New Recruit (IC)
