Mixed Tale 2 - Outpost of Zo'uddan
#3 of Mixed Tale
For thirty years, King Jaojin Dujada Do'uzzan ruled the kingdom. The Empire of Thorns stretched wide, and contained many different species, but the most prominent of them were the rats. Aside from them were mice, squirrels, and hares. In their world they were better known as the rattus, meexus, myrrolds, and leporidae. Almost the entire continent was under the same rule, save for a small portion of land at the border to the Kingdom of the Moon, which was ruled by the leporidae King Julian Fateweaver.
To the West was the continent known as Yura-Yura, the homeland of the dogs, whom were better known on their world as kobolds. The kobold land was run by a fairly intricate council that represented many different factions that were split up relevant to race, or breed.
To the East was a small gap between two continents with scattered islands through the salty waters. On the other side of this gap was a place known as the Outlands, a continent that had been in contest for as long as anyone alive could remember. There were mighty outposts built by many species in the Outlands, but efforts to expand were almost always stamped out by the strength of strange roaming beasts, or tribes of monstrous beings.
In the outpost barracks, a lone soldier rattus sat at his desk and wrote:
"The Outpost of Zo'uddan, 65th of Fall, 206 P.D.
My commander tells us that it will not be until the end of winter before we may return to the main land and allow for other soldiers to take our places. I am envious of the ones who come and go at the end of Summer. The warm weather is definitely preferable to this... chill. While I was out on my patrol, my squad came under assault by a group of savage orcs. The combat was gruesome, and while I came out unharmed, there were two of my squad mates who fell to the creatures. Where did these beings come from? They resemble nothing like what I have seen before.
After returning, and seeing to it that my injured comrades received some treatment from Nurse Monk Dharee, I saw High Inquisitor Isaad traveling through the encampment. He was on his way to Deathcap, and was being followed by only three. They must be of amazing strength to survive, but I suppose that the stories of Isaad's strength must have come from something. Still, it makes me wonder what Grand Inquisitor Coldclaw was like in his prime, if his power far surpassed that of Isaad's. As I mentioned in my last letter, Ruufus was also through a few days ago. I wonder what the Inquisition of Uzzadujoza is up to.
My dear Evonee, I hope that things are going well in the capital city still. I am happy to hear that your new job is working out. It will be a smaller burden on us both to know that you will have acceptable funds for these tough times. After last year's lost food trade, everything has been getting more expensive, hasn't it? Hopefully the rest of the harvest this year will help things get better by the time I see you in Spring.
My Heart for You,
Vorpaal - Duzan'dojintaza"
Vorpaal squeaked with glee as he finished his letter, and put his quill aside, wiping it of ink. He secured his inkwell and rolled up his parchment, binding it with a leather cord. He made sure that the rolling of his parchment allowed the address that was written on the outside to show.
The Empire of Thorns was the first one with a working postal system, and stood for ages to be the most advanced.
He then went outside, gathering his cloak around him as he did. He was a fairly basic brown rattus warrior, and doubled as a foot soldier or an archer, depending on what the commander needed him for at the time. He pulled his cloak tight and shivered a bit to the outside weather as he went across the courtyard. He looked up a moment he saw the moon in the sky at its apex, which gave off a pale glow in the starless night. His gaze wandered across the ramparts, seeing small groups of archers seated atop, guarding the outpost. He finally reached his destination, the leather mailbag, and stuffed his letter in with the others. It was nearing the cycle where the carrier would arrive, and Vorpaal was happy to have gotten his in on time.
He smiled and patted his hands together, then pulled them inside his cloak, holding it closed. As he headed back towards where he was sleeping, he heard a shout from the roof. The guards gathered near the gate of the outpost, some of them with bows drawn. There were loud voices that Vorpaal couldn't make out, but he knew something was up. He rushed into the barracks to equip himself.
"For the last time, turn around and walk away before we start wasting arrows on you," the guard captain shouted. The two rattus beside him stayed still with their bowstrings taut.
"Hrmph! We no leave! Bring out leader, we here to talk, not fight this time!" A large orc spoke, and mashed the butt end of his pole-arm against the ground with a loud thump. He was adorned with blue paint on his green-skinned face, and without a nose to speak of, had two large nostrils, and beside them two large tusks which protruded upwards from his huge under-bite. Yes, an orc of obvious status, if only because he was even bigger than the other orcs, and wore something a little more substantial than a loincloth.
"Hah!" The guard captain laughed, "an orc coming to speak for peace instead of war! That is a joke! Take your men and-"
"What is the meaning of this?!" A strong, commanding female voice came up from behind the guard captain. A black-furred rattus, clad in a metallic and light-green armor came up onto the ramparts. "I hear words of peace being torn asunder by bigotry!"
The guard captain swallowed hard and turned to her, scratching the back of his head. "A... Anointed Warrior Rosethorn! I thought you were asleep."
She sneered, getting close and staring at the guard captain with fierce eyes. "My sleep was disturbed by the shouts of the guard!" The guard captain looked down and slouched a bit as Rosethorn turned to the orcs below and waved a hand. "Are you here for peace?"
The big one grunted in annoyance. "Of course!" He beat his pole-arm against the ground again. "If I here for fight, I bring more warriors!" The two warriors, of a considerably smaller size in muscle mass from the leader, nodded their bald heads dumbly to his finishing statement.
"Then stay there!" She turned to the guard captain and grabbed his tunic, drawing him close and lowering her voice. "I don't ever want to hear you turning down "peaceful" visits from anyone again, you hear? Now open that gate..."
"A-aye, aye." He responded, and then he was shoved away as she receded from the ramparts. He cleared his throat and adjusted his collar. There were a few smirks from the guards, 'til he turned to them and pointed. "You, and you, go open the gate."
Once Rosethorn reached the bottom, she pointed to Vorpaal, who was just coming out of the barracks fully equipped. "You! Come with me!" With a smart salute, he followed her as she went to the opening gate. Across her back were two hooked swords, which had inscribed runes across the length of their blades. Once outside she stood not too far from the large orc. "It is good to see that there are some willing to work for peace. I am an Anointed Warrior of Uzzadujoza, my name is Rosethorn." She took a bit of a bow where she stood. Vorpaal took his place at her right side, and kept his hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed blade.
"I Chief Rogar of Syacin Blade Tribe." He beat his fist on his chest once and nodded with a very serious face. "We come ask for peace with story."
She inquired; "A story? Is it a long story?"
Rogar nodded. "It may take long time, and magic sight to help understand."
Rosethorn extended a hand. "Then join us as guests, Chief Rogar. I will see to it that you are unharmed in our outpost."
One of the warriors laughed lightly and started to move forward when the chief put an arm in front of him. "No." The chief said. "I tell you short story. If you need long story, you come to us."
She gritted her teeth for a moment, then sighed gently and smiled. "The first step to peace is being able to trust the other side, as I'm sure a wise chief like yourself understands. No story should be shortened. Camp just outside of our outpost, a little ways that way." She raised a hand and pointed outwards. "Should you be there when I travel there tomorrow, I will trust you more, and you will have my safety in your hands as I hear your story."
The orc chieftain thought for a long moment. His face was like a stone as he stared at her for a long while. Then, finally, his baritone voice emitted with the same tone of seriousness. "You have courage and strength. I trust more than words. Brave Rosethorn, we meet under moonlight tomorrow." To the thanks and the bow from the rattus, Rogar turned around and headed away from the outpost, his guards turning to follow a moment later.
Isaad and company had arrived at Deathcap an hour ago, only to find out that the ship would be leaving the next day. With the order to rest up, they spread out to appropriate beddings.
Whispee sat up in her bed, distraught. She wondered how her family was. She wanted to hear from Ruufus, but she was not allowed. What was it that made Isaad turn them around after finding that stupid compass? She stayed awake almost all night, wondering... writing randomly... re-reading her spell-book. Anything to keep her mind occupied, as sleep seemed impossible.