Post by Darmok on Mar 31, 2015 18:20:25 GMT -5
(( Trigger Warning: Some blood and gore. Those with a weak stomach should not read. ))
Part 1:
The child had a gaunt face, thin flesh, with little meat, making him look almost like a skeleton with a layer of black skin clinging to the bone. Whether it was from a lack of feeding, or whatever else, he did not know. He could not remember anything before the death of his parents, and as such, could not remember his parents much. What he did know, was that the clan thought him weak and not fit to be a warrior for their war with the Dwarves, nor fit to fight in the battle pits. Instead, the whole of the clan had him cast out of society, mere days after the death of his parents, to be hunted by the Dragonmaw Hounds.
To the woods he was cast, where he ran for his life. They made sport of it, keeping the hounds from being to ambitious, in order to drag out the hunt. And as each day passed, it was almost as if the hounds had picked up on their master's fun, and had learned only to snap and frighten at their prey, and never go in for the kill. Not yet.
The forests of the Twilight Highlands were a dangerous place. The wolves and worgs there were not easily tamed, and the Dragonmaw had to work hard to get the hounds they had. Others in the woods, refused to be captured, and made trouble for Orc and Dwarf alike. It was near the mountains in the west end of the highlands, where the Twilight's Hammer eventually made their home, that Darmok would find himself hemmed in, trapped between the hounds of the Dragonmaw, and the free wolves of the forest. Wise and far from lacking any understanding, the wolves understood what was going on. Realizing their hunt was at an end, being unable to control the other wolves, the clan gave the order for their hounds to kill. Darmok dove behind a rock for whatever meager protection it would give, and curled up and away from the pursuit. When death did not come, he was confused.
He peeked over the rock, to find the other pack standing over the torn hounds, and two Orcs. A last Orc stood with wide eyes at the slaughter, and bellowed at the defiant wolves. As Darmok watched, they struck, and he would die as well. They feasted on the fallen wolves, but after a time, the leader of the pack turned its head to Darmok. In fear, he hid again, but nothing happened. When he looked back out, the wolf still stood there, unmoved, still staring. With fear, but a fair amount of curiosity, Darmok stepped out from behind the rock, and slowly approached the pack. They all ceased eating, and looked to their leader, then to him. This gave him greater pause, but in time, Darmok found himself amidst them, where he fell to his knees amidst the bloody corpses. With a nudge of a nose, and an understanding of their message, Darmok joined in, bowing his head to the bloody meat... and ate. And from that day, Darmok began his life alongside the wolves of the Obsidian Forest
Part 1:
The child had a gaunt face, thin flesh, with little meat, making him look almost like a skeleton with a layer of black skin clinging to the bone. Whether it was from a lack of feeding, or whatever else, he did not know. He could not remember anything before the death of his parents, and as such, could not remember his parents much. What he did know, was that the clan thought him weak and not fit to be a warrior for their war with the Dwarves, nor fit to fight in the battle pits. Instead, the whole of the clan had him cast out of society, mere days after the death of his parents, to be hunted by the Dragonmaw Hounds.
To the woods he was cast, where he ran for his life. They made sport of it, keeping the hounds from being to ambitious, in order to drag out the hunt. And as each day passed, it was almost as if the hounds had picked up on their master's fun, and had learned only to snap and frighten at their prey, and never go in for the kill. Not yet.
The forests of the Twilight Highlands were a dangerous place. The wolves and worgs there were not easily tamed, and the Dragonmaw had to work hard to get the hounds they had. Others in the woods, refused to be captured, and made trouble for Orc and Dwarf alike. It was near the mountains in the west end of the highlands, where the Twilight's Hammer eventually made their home, that Darmok would find himself hemmed in, trapped between the hounds of the Dragonmaw, and the free wolves of the forest. Wise and far from lacking any understanding, the wolves understood what was going on. Realizing their hunt was at an end, being unable to control the other wolves, the clan gave the order for their hounds to kill. Darmok dove behind a rock for whatever meager protection it would give, and curled up and away from the pursuit. When death did not come, he was confused.
He peeked over the rock, to find the other pack standing over the torn hounds, and two Orcs. A last Orc stood with wide eyes at the slaughter, and bellowed at the defiant wolves. As Darmok watched, they struck, and he would die as well. They feasted on the fallen wolves, but after a time, the leader of the pack turned its head to Darmok. In fear, he hid again, but nothing happened. When he looked back out, the wolf still stood there, unmoved, still staring. With fear, but a fair amount of curiosity, Darmok stepped out from behind the rock, and slowly approached the pack. They all ceased eating, and looked to their leader, then to him. This gave him greater pause, but in time, Darmok found himself amidst them, where he fell to his knees amidst the bloody corpses. With a nudge of a nose, and an understanding of their message, Darmok joined in, bowing his head to the bloody meat... and ate. And from that day, Darmok began his life alongside the wolves of the Obsidian Forest