Zensuon: Crystal Age

To Redriver and Back Again

Where our new duo of orcs make their way back toward Redriver, and the difficulties of travelling in human lands- for the humans.

Gurog strode through the unknown forest. Unlike in his plain, these trees did not speak to him, the ground did not say guiding words, and there were no spirits in them.

From the greenskin he found, the spirits shouted out to him.

That is the life-shard the chief spoke of! The PURPLE that shall MAKE WHOLE, that he will BRING.

He could hear the voices of Kurog speak to him from the life-shard, instructing him even now, filling him with knowledge- at least some, and most importantly, magic.

The stride across the night was long and tiring, but the orcs did not speak of fatigue or food. When they needed a small break, all that was required was a grunt.

And when one walked, the other did too.

It was perhaps strange for an outsider to view this situation and accept such coordination between two who have never met, but an orc was an orc was an orc.

No matter the skin colour, the mindset was the same. When one rests, so does the other, when one eats, so does the other, when one says it's time to move on, the other won't let him upstage him. It was as much a constant inner and outer battle to see who is the strongest infused into the acceptance that even the strongest need to eat and sleep once in a while.

Soon enough, morning came, and the woodland started to thin out, after that, the sun rose to its apex, and the forest gave in to rocks and sand.

Gurog strode to the beach, ready to see the small boat he 'acquired' from some fisherman.

Gurog had some experience invading across Redriver into Elvenlands, and so in his mind, the strait was more of a large, less turbulent river, which he could easily sail over in a few hours.

That is if the boat were here.

He glanced left. He glanced right.

He raised his staff once more into the air, asking the spirits for guidance, so he may know if this was the path he previously took. Perhaps walking across this bizarre, spiritless forest had confused him.

In his mind, the spirits confirmed that this was the road back to Redriver that he took, and he knew then that gazing forward, he should see the boat. Only, he didn't.

Nuraka was already down by the beach, he leaned down and pointed with a grunt.

Gurog glanced over.

Nuraka could track well in snow, and while sand tracking was not exactly the same, the greenskin could still point out to the brownskin a path of footprints.

Smaller than orc footprints, coming from the northern side of the beach, and ending at the water.

"Taken," Gurog grunted, pointing to the water to indicate something should've been there.

Nuraka did not nod, or grunt in return, he simply stared at the shaman.

A shaman's duty was a double-edged sword, they were those who orcs (sometimes) follow the guidance of without question, but if the shaman was continuously wrong, he was therefore no shaman at all, and thus when an orc began to question a shaman, the answer usually lay at the end of an axe.

Gurog's rage began to boil. Yes, he was allowed to 'acquire' a boat- but for someone to 'acquire' it from him? That was a strike against him- no, against the spirit's plan!