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Post by Neon on Mar 31, 2010 22:47:41 GMT -5
This is an RP between Satal and myself, that we've been sort of discussing and developing for a while. It's based in the Middle Earth of the Tolkien books, after the events. Most of the elves are gone, and orcs are dying out because people hunt 'em down.
Characters:
Neon:
Everard Greenhand, hobbit, approx. 3 ft. tall, age 18
Amaranth Greenhand, hobbit, Everard's younger sister, approx. 2.5 ft. tall, age 10
Madoc Greenhand, hobbit, approx. 3.4 ft. tall, age 39; their father
Satal:
Vuruk, orc, approx 11.7 ft. tall, age 5
Tolman Greenhand, hobbit, middle brother, approx. 3.7 ft. tall, age 12
Marigold Greenhand, hobbit, approx 3.1 ft. tall, age 40; Madoc's wife and the hobbit children's mother
It will begin soon! Enjoy.
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Post by Neon on Mar 31, 2010 23:07:09 GMT -5
The first thing he noticed as he walked out into the field was that the mule was gone. The stupid creature had wandered off ... again. Everard rolled his eyes. At least the plowing was already done ... he could afford to take his time searching for the beast.
"I swear, 'fit does that again, might just sell the darn thing," he muttered to himself as he trudged over to the path between the fields. Didn't want to upset the rows of vegetables, after all.
Everard Greenhand had lived his whole life as a gardener and farmer. He was the oldest of three siblings, with a younger brother and sister. His father managed the farm, and his mother sold flowers in town. Today, Everard was the only one to venture into the fields so far. He began to whistle a tune that matched his roundish, cheerful face as he drummed his fingers absently against the handle of the sickle on his belt. Eventually he'd be needing it, to trim down whatever was ready. As soon as he found the mule, that is.
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Post by Satal on Apr 1, 2010 2:11:26 GMT -5
The latest hunt had left the stumbling figure with no comrades left. If it weren't for his mottled "bad blood", then it was doubtful the one survivor would had made it out of the fighting in tact. Well, mostly in tact.
A hand groped at the figure's side, black blood gushing free from a sword slash. The strange creature looked like a dark skinned Uruk-Hai, a fighting orc bred by a wizard years ago. But the sheer size of the orc was not that of his race. His bones had mixed with mountain giant as he was "born". Orcs were birthed fully formed in muddy birthsacks from cursed ground. But the mud holes that the orcs birthed themselves from were all but vanishing.
The giant orc dragged himself along, bleeding from his wound and his breaths coming in pants and gasps. The braying of a mule caught his attention. His deep maroon eyes narrowed on the furry grey beast grazing to the left of the dirt road. Drool oozed out from one side of the orc's maw. He would need a full belly if he were to fight off the pain and weakening blood loss from the wound. Lossening the crude knife from his hilt, the hurt creature lunged at the animal, cutting ikts death cry short with quick knife work.
Vuruk waited till the animal was dead before sinking his long canines into the still warm meat. He would feast well.
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Post by Neon on Apr 6, 2010 21:54:55 GMT -5
Everard ambled slowly through the fields, peering lazily around. Usually the mule wandered off into one of the fields to graze on some forbidden treat or other. He didn't worry overmuch for the thing. It'd come back amiably enough, if he could just find it. He sighed as a breeze brushed by, making the nice day seem even calmer.
Everard perked up when he heard something far up ahead, around the corner of the tall grass on the gently-sloped hill. It sounded like the mule squealing about something or other. Perhaps, he reasoned, it had gotten itself stuck somewhere and needed help. He wouldn't put it past the old creature. With a chuckle, Everard picked up his pace as he padded towards the far edge of the property, which was bordered harshly by thick forests.
He stopped dead in his tracks and froze, his eyes wide, when he finally rounded the corner. He'd found the mule, but he'd also found an orc.
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Post by Satal on Apr 7, 2010 4:07:50 GMT -5
Hot bloodied flesh ripped free from the mutilated carcass of the mule as the orc gorged himself. The chunks of raw meat slid hot down the beast's throat. He growled in pleasure of his first fresh kill in days. He did not notice that he had been found until he crouch down near the soft stomach area.
Intestines hanging from his mouth, he spotted the halfling standing on the wind in the path. A gutteral noise was issued from Vuruk. He maroon eyes narrowed as a hand groaped for his short blade. He soon found the blood crusted weapon and stood, freeing the dead animal from his hungry jaws.
"You will not have me!" Vuruk roared blindly charging the halfling. With the sudden movement, the wound on his side tore, black blood splattering the remains of the orc's crude leather armor and the dirt of the path. The pain was crippling. As Vuruk made a wild swing with his blade, he tripped and fell moaning to his side. His blade flew from his hand and clattered to the earth a few feet from the mixed breed giant.
Vuruk knashed his teeth in anger and pain. He glared up at the halfling, unable to do much but claw at his wound.
"Pay no mind," he weezed, "Finish me as you will." He had givin up seeing that he could not even stand on his shaking legs. The orc blood made him strong, but the mountain giant blood made him soft. He almost feared the halfling, it being unknown to Vuruk. He closed his stunning deep red eyes...
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Post by Neon on Apr 13, 2010 23:03:44 GMT -5
Everard almost gagged at the sight. The orc had absolutely gored the old mule. And the smell from the dead animal almost made him woozy as well. He didn't have time to think too much about that, though, because suddenly the orc growled. He gasped and took a step back.
He let out a yelp when the orc lunged forward, and backpedaled wildly to avoid that vicious blade. He crouched low and put his hands over his head. He heard the weapon clatter away, looked up, and quickly stood again, his hand pulling the sickle from his belt. He held it up protectively. He shuffled on his feet, unsure of what to do next.
He had been raised to think of orcs as nasty, vicious things, but right now the theme didn't seem to match. This guy was huge, certainly, but it didn't seem to be trying very hard to be mean. Everard glanced at the mule again and shuddered. Now was his only chance ... he raised the sickle over his head ...
With a frustrated sigh, Everard let the farm tool drop to the ground beside him. He fell with a huff to sit down a few feet in front of the orc, breathing deeply. "I ... I can'a do't." he admitted. He couldn't strike a creature when it was down, no matter how vicious it seemed.
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Post by Satal on Apr 17, 2010 21:58:55 GMT -5
Vuruk waited in grim silence, waiting for a sharp jolt of pain and the final beats of his cursed heart. His breaths came in pained gasps as seconds turned into minutes. He cracked open one of his strangely colored eyes and peered at the halfling. The halfling muttered some strained nonsense before allowing his weapong to fall. Vuruk's other eye opened to fully take in the other's actions and the mercy he was offered.
"What are you doing?" he gruffly spat attempting to push himself up. He bared his blood smeared, mangled fangs at the halfling in anger.
"You should kill me! I am an orc! Do you know what that is? What that means?" he roared pounding the dirt with a balled fist. Tears dotted the corners of his eyes. He grit his yellowed teeth.
He waited for the halfling's answer bleeding his brackish life blood on the dirt path.
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Post by Neon on May 13, 2010 9:07:00 GMT -5
Everard drew back slightly when the orc looked up. He still looked pretty vicious ... but not as much as he could have been. He shook his head when the orc pushed himself up and asked what he was doing. Everard didn't have an answer for that question.
He did, however, yelp and scoot back slightly when the orc yelled suddenly. He stopped, though, to consider the situation. This orc was in a lot of pain. He could see it in his eyes. His violent outburst seemed to be only a protection, a mask over this pain and perhaps fear of death. Everard's face hardened and he pushed himself to his feet, hardly an intimidating move for a hobbit. "I know what y' are. And I won'a kill ya. Not like this," he answered bravely.
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Post by Satal on Jun 20, 2010 20:37:57 GMT -5
"You won't kill me?" laughed the orc harshly, "Then what am I to do? Lay here in a puddle of my own blood and wait? You would be doing me a favor if you were to gut me here and now..." He faded off into a thoughtful silence. What was he to do? If the hobbit up and left him, he would die anyways. He knew this now. There was no more orcish denial.
He laid his cheek down onto the dirt path and sighed creating a small puff of swirling dust. He had not the strength to stand, no matter how much meat he ate. In fact, he felt like vomiting more than keeping the mule in his bowels. He clawed at the earth one more time in an attempt to reach his weapon before falling still. He peered up at the halfling.
"Am I the last? Am I the last of my kind? My blood is dirty, it is not pure, but.... should a pathetic worm like me really be the last of my comrades? I have not seen nor scented orc for days. You are the first human I have seen. And I...am...scared," he grunted, his nostrils flaring with held in sobs. The creature that lay before Everard fell still, his breathing coming in ragged gasps as Vuruk forced himself not to cry.
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Post by Neon on Jun 22, 2010 22:52:48 GMT -5
Everard bit his lip as the orc kept talking, insisting that he kill him. And he realized that he couldn't just leave the poor creature alone, either. He'd gone and caught himself in a dilemma, for sure. He shuffled slightly on his feet, when the Orc laid down dejectedly. Everard frowned at how ... defeated he looked. While he was raised to have no love for such a beast, he realized then that he hadn't been raised to hate them either.
He blinked and focused when the orc addressed him again. His jaw dropped to hear it admit ... fear. This development threw a huge wrench in Everard's judgment ... if he had even an inkling of a clue of what to do before, it was gone. He twisted his face in a thoughtful frown after a few seconds of listening to the orc's shallow breathing. "Well ... I danno if yoo're the last," he began, not mentioning that he kind of hoped so. "But I'll help ya if ya want ... " Everard took a few cautious steps toward the orc, jittery as ever.
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Post by Satal on Jun 23, 2010 1:00:34 GMT -5
Vuruk raised his gaze to watch the hobbit approach him. He fought back a snarl and allowed the halfling to do as he would. If he did nothing, Vuruk was as good as dead.
"You might want to stitch me up if you have the will to save this misrable creature," the orc sighed. He began drawing in the dirt with one of his claws. Mountains are what humans called them. Vuruk remembered.
"Drive them to the mountains," Vuruk growled remembering the battle, "The horsemen chased us far. We hid in the abandoned elf home for a while. We thought we would never be found there. Wrong we were. They found us and slaughtered a good number of my troop there. Who escaped were traveling this way until a river stopped us. I was pushed into the water as soon as the fighting began and was shot by a nasty arrow. I floated along until I was pushed ashore by the water. I saw that furry thing and wanted my strength back." He gazed at the mountains he drew in the dirt.
Suddenly his body started shuddering violently and he vomited up a good portion of what he ate. He didn't have too much longer unless the wound was closed and the arrowhead removed.
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Post by Satal on Aug 25, 2010 14:53:39 GMT -5
((Neon I edited my post! Hope it helps...))
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Post by natalie on Aug 26, 2010 0:24:20 GMT -5
( Great RP )
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Post by Neon on Aug 26, 2010 0:57:21 GMT -5
Everard leaned in closer. Despite himself, he found himself inching closer as the Orc recalled his story. It was full of more adventure he'd ever heard of, for sure. And the mention of the mule only got him to glance away for a moment. He listened with care.
However, Everard drew back in surprise when Vuruk took a turn for the worse. "Ah, um, okey, hold still now ..." he babbled somewhat frantically. He tore some cloth from the hem of his baggy shirt. It wouldn't do for long term, but it could stop up the bleeding for a moment. He held it out awkwardly. "Pu' this on it? Er I can help a bit, eh?" He shuffled around to look at the wound. The sight of the bleeding and the smell of the orc's recent upturn made Everard gag slightly. He hesitated, then took his strip of cloth and put it over the wound, using the armor around it to fix it in place.
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Post by Satal on Aug 27, 2010 0:50:51 GMT -5
Vuruk growled in pain as the cursed hobbit toyed with his ghastly wound. He was trembling with weakness, not even able to stand on his own.
"So what will you do with me?" he grunted baring his teeth in a sharp grimace. He began to claw his way into a seated position.
"If you are not going to kill me and don't know how to properly treat this wound what will you do?" he pushed removing his matted stringy black hair from his face.
"Will you go seek help? Who will help an orc? You are a strange one for not cutting me down, you know?" The orc glanced up at him with a terrible attempted grin, "Now help this sack of bones over there, off the path, if you are truely to leave."
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