Alovarya : The Drowned Kingdom, Part 2 of 2

Chapter 6 : The Great Mountain

     The travelers rode to the east out of Steig, each of them now upon their own horses that were gifted to them for use by Piper and her fellow blacksmith's. She herself rode upon a wagon pulled by two of the animals, the cart carrying her heavy suit of armor and warhammer as its payload.

     Gardan wished to travel to the Sierfyre Tower before heading through Paskas and into the castle grounds. The tower housed the most powerful mages in Alovarya, and he was certain that their aid would be a deciding factor in the battle against the serpent swarms.

     Unfortunately that meant taking the road through the valley of the Great Mountain, a massive peak which loomed in the center of Alovarya's northern half. The road itself wouldn't be so hard to fare if not for the inhabitants of the surrounding area. The mountain hills were occupied by a barbaric tribe of warriors, who were known for raiding supply wagons that traveled along the roadways.

     A few miles before the mountain the group came upon a small camp. They could hear lutes being played as a small clan of Wood Orcs sat around their campfires. The orcs were tall and slender, with green skin and thick hair. They were a friendly and peaceful bunch, and rode massive opiliones through the quiet forests.

     The travelers stopped at the camp, being waved over by a few of the orcs who offered them drinks as they warmed themselves by the fire. The five companions sat together upon a log, joined by a few of the orcs who had made their way over to them, most of which were more than a bit tipsy from their drink.

     "Good day," Gardan said as the orcs joined their company. One of the green-skinned beings handed him a mug full of their spiced rum. The Wood Orcs dressed quite nicely for a people who spent their time living in the woods. Their wool clothes were cleaned and fit well, and their bushy hair was often worn in a tight pony-tail that ran halfway down their back.

     "What brings you out here this morning, friends?" one of the orcs asked.

     Gardan told them of the group's destination, causing a concerned look upon the tall being's face.

     "I wish you all luck. But you've chosen a terrible time to make your way around the mountain. The tribesman are currently at war with our goblin cousins. The roads are very dangerous right now."

     Theral and Alkan had heard plenty about the goblins. Referring to them as cousins, the orc simply meant that they shared a similar genetic structure. In truth, the goblins were very different from the tall orcs. Sharing their green skin tone, the goblins were much shorter, and severely hostile. They were excellent craftsman, who created steel armors, often incorporating tree leaves into the designs of their helmets and pauldrons, a tribute to the woods that they dwelled in. But where the orcs lived in simple huts and small camps, the goblins built massive structures of stone, and would violently attack any group of people who weren't among their own.

     "Gardan," Theral spoke, "If this is true, I believe that we should be on our way as quickly as possible."

     Another orc rode into the camp among his mount. The opiliones, or harvestmen as they were referred to by the orcs, were giant arachnids with fused body sections, incredibly long legs, and a single pair of eyes. The animals were larger than a horse, and moved throughout the forest without making a sound. They did not startle the equine though, as opiliones were completely harmless, feasting only upon vegetation or scavenging off of already rotting corpses.

     The orc called down from its mount, warning the others that a goblin war party had been seen headed this way from the south, and suggesting that they all pack up and move on.