FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Reforged pt 6

comidacomida copyright 2019

Considering the injuries they'd all taken in the fight against the demonic creatures, Arthur thought it best to find a place to bandage their wounds; Harold found one not too distant from the site of the battle. The Gnoll went out to find more healing herbs while the Orc, who had introduced himself as Orvig Asler started preparing bandages; the Orc apparently had some familiarity with first aid which, according to him, was standard study for knights.

Even as the blacksmith looked over the injuries his eldest son had sustained he kept an eye on the green skinned soldier. He was curious enough that he eventually went so far as to ask "You said your clan name is 'Asler'? And you called Sir Asler your father? I knew his family; they were Human."

Orvig looked to the stone pile he had created to cover his father's body. He stared for many long moments before his gaze returned to Arthur. "He adopted me. I was as much his son as you are the father of yours."

The Human nodded, returning his gaze to a nasty cut on Peter's forearm. "I had not known Sir Asler to have adopted. I'd thought that his son was his by his wife."

The Orc continued preparing bandages, speaking toward them rather than toward the blacksmith. "His wife could not bear children, and they both raised me as their own until she passed from The Shivers some years ago."

Arthur remembered when the disease passed through; it had been a difficult time for the entire province. "When did they come by you? How?"

Orvig adjusted and finally removed his left pauldron so he could move more easily as he explained "I was born in an orc village some ways west of here. At a time before I could remember the village was raided and destroyed by an opposing tribe. My first memory was traveling with my mother and the last members of my village into Human lands."

Peter let out a soft snort, adding "Violence is the way of life for too many."

The Orc nodded, preparing a few more bandages while he spoke. "My people were no less violent. We entered Human lands and began raiding villages to get what we needed. Eventually Sir Asler's men responded and cut down everyone who caused harm to his people... but he stopped the soldiers before they killed me or the other Orclings."

Harold, who had returned during Orvig's explanation sat down next to the Orc and began distributing the herbs he'd collected into several piles. "Well... you apparently turned out okay... what happened to the rest of em?"

Orvig shook his head. "I was the youngest in the group; none younger than me survived the time on the road. The eldest Orclings fought the men anyway and they were put down, but two others and I did not attack and so Sir Asler offered to take us in and, in the end, adopted us and gave us his name."

Peter raised his ears, glancing toward the Orc. "All three of you?"

Nodding, the green skinned knight split the bandages between himself and Harold and they both began to prepare the medication as he elaborated. "Yes, all three of us. Idor, the eldest of us was killed by one of Father's retainers because of misplaced hatred, and Father had the man executed for murder. Lurnah, the middle of us was raised as Sir Asler's daughter and my sister, but she was sent away after Idor's murder. The last I heard she was serving as the king's diplomat to the Eastern Orcish tribes."

Arthur nodded as he digested was he'd been told. Ultimately, he chose to speak his mind. "I am surprised Sir Asler would adopt Orcs... it's one thing for a blacksmith to take in non-Humans, but Lords are held by a different measure."

Orvig took hold of several medicated bandages and approached him while Harold began working on Peter. "Actually, Arthur Smith, I have you to thank for that."

The statement caught the blacksmith by surprise. He watched as the Orc tended to his injuries. "How so?"

The green skinned knight's touch was gentle and also purposeful, carefully but skillfully securing the bandages in place. "You used to serve in the town's militia... one of the men with whom you served was Dakan."

Many years had passed since Arthur had been anything but a blacksmith, but he could still recall the name; Dakan was a courageous, attentive, and honorable man. "I remember him. We fought alongside one another many times... he was there when I found my boys."

Orvig stopped tending to him for just long enough to meet his gaze. "Dakan Asler. He was my father's younger brother."

The statement caught Arthur by surprise. "I... never knew."

The Orc nodded casually as he went back to work. "Well, I can't imagine that being an accident, Arthur... self-respecting second-sons don't spend much time flaunting the family name."

It made sense to the blacksmith, but it still didn't satisfy his curiosity. "But that still doesn't explain how I had anything to do with you being adopted by Sir Asler..."

Orvig continued talking as he loosened Arthur's leather smithing apron to better tend to his wounds. "He fell protecting the caravan that you helped to save. Father found out about it and, according to him, it changed the way he saw the world. He held you in very high esteem, Mr. Smith."

Harold snorted, glancing toward the two of them. "High enough esteem to never send any business our way, huh?"

The Orc looked over at the Gnoll, but, before he could say anything, Arthur interjected. "No explanation is required. A Lord is welcome to use whomever he wishes for his blacksmithing commissions."

Orvig addressed the question anyway. "After what happened with Idor, Father was very careful about keeping me and my sister sequestered; very few people knew that Father had adopted, and fewer still knew that we were Orcs. He had to keep his support of you at a distance but, even so, he still provided you contracts."

Harold challenged the statement. "Oh he did? Every time Sir Asler ordered weapons and armor, Dad was never even offered a chance to bid!"

The knight turned to the Gnoll, offering a casual question "Who do you think covered the cost of the town guards and militia?"

Before Harold could speak again Peter spoke up. "That makes sense... maintaining a degree of separation would have been important to protect you and your sister."

The Minotaur's statement apparently placated the Gnoll. "Humans can be really horrible sometimes--" he froze, glancing to Arthur before quickly adding "--except you, Dad."

Orvig's attention returned to Arthur. "Sir Asler raised me to understand kindness, and nobility and virtue. He said there's no difference between me and anyone else, and always told me to believe that. How could I possibly believe it if I didn't also think the same about you and your sons?"

The blacksmith found himself smiling at the sentiment, even as he winced when the Orc tightly tied off on of the bandages. "Thank you, Orvig. I wish more people shared that same point of view."

The knight nodded, sitting back as he finished off caring for Arthur's last wound. "No thanks required, Arthur. My Father always made sure that, if the time ever came that he couldn't provide you help that I was to take over and provide you whatever support I could without risking my own position."

The sentiment warmed Arthur's heart in more ways than he could count; not only had his lord knight taken notice of him, but Sir Asler had gone so far as to follow his lead and give a child a chance. The emotional significance came and went, leaving an important thought in his mind. "One of my sons is still missing... the hellish forces that sacked your keep may have taken my youngest there as a prisoner."

Orvig sat up a little straighter. "I knew that Traven Keep had fallen, but I did not know that it had been taken to be used. There must be some dark force... a mastermind behind this attack-- it cannot have been random."

Harold, who finished tending to Peter, turned to regard the Orc. "Well, if they have Lucas that's where we're going."

The knight nodded, presenting his arm as the Gnoll held out a bandage. He accepted the healing even as he stated "I will not let the keep go without a fight."

Harold snorted. "I think you already had the fight... and they already got the keep."

Peter shot his younger brother a withering gaze. "The fight isn't over, Harold. We lost Lucas but we havent' given up and he hasn't given up retaking his home."

Arthur put a stop to the discussion by bringing everyone back to the topics at hand. "We will all do better working together."

Orvig was obviously in agreement. "I'll help you find Lucas."

Peter was also on board. "And we'll help you retake the keep."

Harold wasn't quite as optimistic. "Great. Now all we need is an army."

* * * * * *

The group rested for several hours and, although their wounds were far from healed, Arthur dared not wait any longer. The four set out once again for Traven as soon as the herbal bandages had done their job and the party's numerous wounds were no longer in danger of reopening. They were hardly fresh and rested but, Arthur reasoned, they couldn't hold off on finding and rescuing Lucas. He put it best into words as the sun slowly began to dip beneath the horizon. "Gods only know what they're doing to him..."

Orvig, who was keeping pace with the group despite his heavy plated armor reached out a gauntleted hand and patted the blacksmith's shoulder. "Have some faith, Mr. Smith... if they had chosen to capture your son alive then the chances are that it was for a reason. We will liberate him."

Peter, who was trudging along on Arthur's other side glanced past his dad to ask of the Orc "Why do you call him that, Sir Asler? You are a knight-- why do you not simply call him by his given name."

The knight looked past the blacksmith to address the question. "A sign of respect, Peter. Your father was a great man in the eyes of mine... and my father was the greatest man I have ever known."

Arthur was confused by the praise, but it felt good in a way which he only rarely ever got acknowledgement. Still, he reasoned, it was not as earned as fervently as assigned, so he strove to correct it. "Sir Asler... as you were your father's heir, you are my lord. Please... call me Arthur."

The Orc slowed to a stop. "We are fellows in battle against a foe that threatens our holdings and family. I will gladly call you Arthur if you wish, but I ask in return that you call me Orvig."

The Human was taken aback. "But, Sir Asler--"

Orvig held up his hand. "I insist. We are in this together. While these lands and our loved ones are at risk, let none of us lord over any other."

Harold, who had been scouting ahead of the rest of the group reappeared amidst the trees' dark shadows cast by the evening sun long enough to add to the conversation. "Fine. Good. Agreed. Dad, you're Arthur. Sir Asler, you're Orvig. Got it. Now let's keep going."

The travel returned to silence after that, and Harold continued to guide the party toward Traven Keep without use of the road. As time passed the sky grew darker and once the sun finally set the area around the party was blanketed with darkness. The night time firmament was covered in a thick blanket of clouds, deepening the inky blackness that accompanied them on their cross-country trek.

Peter seemed to take note first. "Father... you're lagging behind."

Arthur reached out in the direction from which he heard the voice. "I cannot see."

Massive digits curled around his forearm as his eldest son steadied him. "Then I will help guide you."

A gauntleted hand took hold of his other arm. "We both will."

With assistance from both sides, the blacksmith was able to increase his pace so as not to slow down their progress. He was also quick to add "And most Humans are always insisting that other races are inferior... perhaps they need to spend more time outside city walls."

Although neither Peter nor Orvig responded to the statement, Arthur heard the distinct, hyena-like laugh of his middle son a short distance ahead. Harold called back in a hushed tone "Sorry, Dad... I think it'd take more than a little darkness for the worst of em to come around."

Peter snorted off to Arthur's left and stated flatly. "Let's just focus on our task. Find an easy path for Father; he doesn't see as well as we do without light."

The greenish-gleam of Harold's eyes flickered from the darkness ahead. "Are you doing alright, Dad? Do we need to go slower?"

Arthur shook his head, knowing full-well that the Gnoll could see the gesture. "No. I'm fine. We need to get to Lucas. Peter and Orvig are helping me keep up."

Needing no further permission, Harold forged on ahead, leading the party ever-closer to Traven Keep. Despite Arthur's trust and belief in his middle son, he still breathed a sigh of relief once he saw the looming edifice of the fortress come into view, illuminated by huge bonfires surrounding it. Although the blacksmith had visited his lord's hold on a few occasions in his life he almost didn't recognize it at first. It was enough of a surprise that he slowed, causing Peter and Orvig to pause as well when he declared "By the gods..."

Traven Keep had always been a beautiful sight at any time of day (or night) but upon seeing the occupied structure Arthur had his breath knocked out of him. The large walls circling the keep had been finished with white and were always kept immaculate but, as Arthur gazed at them, lit by the sea of fires gathered up in clumps around them he saw long streams of red creating stains down their surface like waterfalls frozen in time. All along the crenelations were long pikes upon which were skewered bodies, presented like totems or war trophies; it made Arthur sick just to look at.

Harold summed it up best as he spoke with a growl. "That isn't Traven Keep... it's the charnel house of a mad warlord."

His middle son's statement made Arthur tense up, especially since the lord of the keep was standing right beside him, but it brought things into perspective for him when Orvig announced "Then I will have a lot of work ahead of me to restore my home once we liberate it from the creatures who have taken it."

Peter's tone was just as committed. He reached back to grip the handle of his weapon and the leather hilt wrap of his sword creaked beneath his grip. " They are not going to get away with this."

Harold, as usually, but things into perspective. "They already did."

The Minotaur practically barked his objection. "Harold!"

Arthur stepped in to interrupt their argument. "That's enough, you two. Whoever is responsible for this also took Lucas. We will find them and we will bring them to justice. They must be held accountable for this..." he paused, searching for the right word as he gestured to the defiled keep. "...evil."

Orvig stood and, with a nod, he lowered the visor to his helmet. The Orc pulled the shield off his back and slid his off-arm through its straps before drawing his longsword. "More of the creatures are entering through the gates."

Peter nodded with a grunt, finally pulling out his own massive blade. "There are a lot of them... and they look as though they're massing."

Harold, eyes on the gate, let out a soft growl as he readied his bow. "But why? If they have the keep they should be expanding their control, not pulling back."

Arthur couldn't agree with the Gnoll's assessment. "Perhaps they're mustering... the town of Draven is only a half day's march to the East. What if--"

Orvig stood. "If they are planning on sacking Draven then we will need to warn Sir Wasker... but for now we do not know that for certain."

The blacksmith turned to regard the knight. "Then what is our plan?"

The Orc's exhale echoed out from beneath his visor. "The creatures that ambushed me and my men were numerous, but for any trained soldier they they were no great feat to destroy individually. Do you trust in your sons?"

Arthur didn't even need a second to consider the question. "With my life."

The knight's response was dire. "It may come to that."

Harold edged closer. "You're not thinking of sieging Traven Keep, are you?"

Orvig scoffed. "We don't need to lay siege of they've kept the gate open... What I am thinking is a frontal assault."

Peter was a little more hesitant. "Is that wise? We do not know how many of those abominations are still inside. What if--"

The Orc held up a hand to stall the objection. "Whether this is the act of a demonologist or some twisted summoner, any one archanist can only have so much influence over the denizens of the lower planes. My men and I banished dozens of their ilk; only so many could possibly remain to oppose us."

Harold wasn't convinced. "And what if it's something else? What if there's another force behind this invasion?"

The Knight's response was even more severe. "Then we would be facing an invasion by the Hells itself, and there is nothing any mortal man could do to oppose it."

Arthur followed Orvig's reasoning. "Then if we're going to have any sense of hope we have to go forward assuming that the hardest part of it all is already behind us."

The Orc nodded. "Yes... or else all is lost."

The sense of oppressive doom had just started to settle upon the group when the sound of an explosion pulled the group's attention back to Traven Keep. Harold pointed toward the gate house. "Uh... Dad?"

Arthur spun to follow his son's gaze; the structure was billowing out smoke and, as the blacksmith watched, a lone figure emerged, running as fast as its little scaled legs could carry it. The red and gold Kobold raced away from Traven Keep, followed quickly by several dark shapes in hot pursuit. The Human spoke the name in surprise, his sons' voices echoing him in stereo. "Lucas?"

Orvig responded in an instant, brandishing his sword. "Well then... it is apparent that the gods have yet to abandon us. Shall we?"

No answer was spoken because no answer was needed. In unison, the four men charged forth to come to Lucas' aid and to face whatever lay ahead.