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Friday, 01 July 2011
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Questing Chronicles. II
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The Roth Saga
Part Four

 Lord Roth brought his broadsword down with punishing force to cleave through the crude wooden shield and left forearm of the orc that had futilely attempted to distract him from his true opponent.


 "Me 'and! me Gorkin' 'and!" Squealed the greenskin in some distress.

 The Lord Roth, covered as he was in blood, gore and viscera was in no mood for conversation. With a single stroke, he sliced through the heavily muscled neck of the orc; sending an arterial spray pulsing into the air from the dying creatures wound. Kicking the corpse away, he cleared the space around him of opponents with broad wide sweeps of his blade and began to take their measure.

 Six foul smelling orcs were attempting to rush him and were steeling themselves for the attack, when the Lord Roth suddenly struck out first. Leaping forward he extended his arm out and thrust the point of his sword deep into the stomach of the orc to his right, gripped his blade with two hands and tore it out through the beast's side. Causing the stricken orc to drop it's rusty axe and claw in vain at the wet innards that were suddenly spilling from it. As one, the remaining orcs were upon him as he forcefully freed his blade from the slippery contents of their dying comrades body. He grudgingly accepted a blow to his unprotected side to allow him space to bring his blade to bare, and began deftly deflecting wild swings from his incensed opponents.

 The lord Roth then recieved the savage strike of an orc axe to his right thigh, causing a rent in the armour and jagged flesh wound. Spurred by the sudden pain, he slammed his left plate armoured fist into the howling greenskins face and smiled grimly as teeth and tusk broke under the impact of his blow. The astonished orc clasped it's bleeding and ruined mouth in shock and reeled away from the melee, allowing Lord Roth to step into the momentarily vacated space. Ducking the blow of an axe trying to part his head from his shoulders, Lord Roth quickly dropped to one knee. Before he lunged forwards head first into the chest of the axe weilding orc, and felt the hard, wet, fleshy impact of the antlers that adorned his helmet sinking deeply into the greenskins body. The incredulous orc fell back in stunned disbelief, tearing Lord Roth's helmet from his head and causing the knight a heavily bleeding cut to his right eyebrow.

 Suddenly, Kalidus rushed back into the fray with his mighty hooves flailing and strong broad teeth biting. The mighty warhorse barreled into the orc band violently, scattering them and allowing Lord Roth to casualy walk forward and press his sword point into the chest of the orc he had just punched in the face; piercing it's heart. It fell instantly, with only a watery gurgle rattling from it's blood filled throat. Kalidus himsef, had also stoved in the thick skull of a club wielding orc and was flailing and bucking wildly at the two remaining greenskins. Lord Roth grimly cuffed away some of the blood that had been dripping in prufusion into his right eye and rushed towards the melee.

 Roaring in fury and intent Lord Roth grabbed the shorter of the two orcs and turned it to face him, even a cowardly beast like an orc would bear it's wounds to the front when facing Lord Roth. Sidestepping the thrust of the axehead, Lord Roth pressed forward and put his arm around the back of the orc's neck; trapping the orc's axe-arm aginst it's body. Then using the pommel of his sword, he proceeded to beat the thrashing orc to death. Kalidus sensing his masters mood slowly backed away from the last orc allowing the lone greenskin time to take in the events that had transpired in the mere moments, since the grey warhorse had re-entered the fray.

 It stood nearly seven feet tall, huge rippling slabs of muscle adorned the beast and unlike the other orcs, this one was almost jet black in colour. It's fetid breath misted in the cool damp forest air as the mighty lungs worked furiously to find respite. Lord Roth slowly walked over and faced the orc that now stood some six feet away. This was the orc he had been wanting to face, this was his true opponent. It was defintely the leader of the orc band, in it's ham sized fists it held a fine double-handed sword in an iron grip, whilst grasped firmly in the right hand was Lord Roth's own saddlebags containing the Insignia of the Quest within.

 The damn things had come upon what they had thought was a deserted camp with an old horse asleep and leaning against a tree.They had looted the camp in an utter frenzy, casting many of Lord Roth's own possessions across the leaf covered forest floor. They had the closed in on the old horse, and were about to kill and eat Kalidus when the warhorse had finaly awoke with a thuderous whinny, and begun to strike out against the thieving greenskin's. Lord Roth who had taken to sleeping in trees ever since Kalidus' sleep disorder had began to get out of hand, had awoke alarmed and disoriented and had fallen out of the tree. Violently breaking his recently re-set ribs against most of the branches on his way down. Cursing vehemently he dragged his sword from it's scabbard and had beset the thieving cads.

Kalidus and himself had been fighting and killing greenskins for nearly half an hour and the forest was littered with their swiftly spoiling corpses. All that was left was this git and he was about to recieve the Lord Roth's full attention. Which almost always, resulted in a damned severe thrashing.


 Sometime later..........

 Anger had left him, taking with it the illusion of strength and fortitudeand leaving the reality of weakness and weariness. The orc boss was dead, it's quickly stiffening body lost amidst the throng of greenskin corpses that now littered the forest floor. Having made his way stoically to Kalidus' side and feeling the full weight of his years, the Lord Roth made several feeble attempts to throw his recovered saddlebags across his steed's broad back before success was finally made. Drawing in a ragged breath he strained to lift a very fine double-handed sword up into a series of straps behind the fine leather saddle that adorned Kalidus' hind quarters. With his face begining to purple with effort, he finally managed to tighten the cinches and secure the fine blade.

 It had been in possesion of the orc boss and bore the symbol of the unicorn, the favoured emblem of the sons of Quenelles. Such an artifact deserved to be treated with honour and not left to rust amongst the decaying corpses of such loathesome beasts. If he could return it to the noble line with the same heraldry,then he would do so. And if not, perhaps he would lay it respectfully within one of the Grail Chapels found in Quenelles.

 Lord Roth, hampered as he was by broken ribs and a deep wound to his right thigh, could not mount the saddle. He instead wound the reins tightly in his left fist, gripped the saddlehorn in his right and leaned heavily against his mount's side. Kalidus needed no urging and they both left the carnage of the skirmish far behind them.


Last Updated ( Sunday, 14 August 2011 )
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