The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - The Fellowship of the Fourth Age (Part 1): A New Beginning RPG

Firefoot · 01-31-2009, 07:11 PM

Grask had been completely forgotten in all the chaos. He’d curled up in a ball by himself at the edge of the brush, cradling his broken arm against his thin body. His sobbing had mostly quieted, though an unbidden tear still sometimes leaked from his eyes. The cruel, cruel men, how they had hurt him! His arm was useless now, completely useless, and any movement would send another shock of pain straight through it.

But none of the rest of them cared. See how he had tried to stick up for Ishkur, yet Ishkur had no thought for him now. And the females, what did they care for just another young Orcling, nearly old enough to be counted among the men? And the Men - ! Grask’s eyes darkened at the thought. He was lucky they had not killed him straight out, and would be lucky again if they didn’t hunt him down now that the activity seemed to be dying out. It occurred to him to move deeper into the brush to hide, but he had neither the strength nor the will. He had not even fetched his short blade from where it had landed earlier when the big brute broke his arm. He had another, though. With just one blade, he was no worse off than he had been before they had stumbled across the Man-camp in the first place.

Contemplating these things, Grask at some point began to shiver, whether from shock, fear, or a sudden chill, or all three. But then, for some inexplicable reason, a soothing sensation came over him. Was that a song? Yes, a song, and far different than any he had ever heard. No Orc could sing like that. It must be one of the Men then… but that thought, rather than invoking more fear, brought only gentle peace to his young heart. Suddenly exhausted, Grask fell swiftly asleep, the song of the Elves in his ears.

01-31-2009, 07:11 PM	#456
Firefoot Illusionary Holbytla Join Date: Dec 2003 Posts: 7,646	Grask Grask had been completely forgotten in all the chaos. He’d curled up in a ball by himself at the edge of the brush, cradling his broken arm against his thin body. His sobbing had mostly quieted, though an unbidden tear still sometimes leaked from his eyes. The cruel, cruel men, how they had hurt him! His arm was useless now, completely useless, and any movement would send another shock of pain straight through it. But none of the rest of them cared. See how he had tried to stick up for Ishkur, yet Ishkur had no thought for him now. And the females, what did they care for just another young Orcling, nearly old enough to be counted among the men? And the Men - ! Grask’s eyes darkened at the thought. He was lucky they had not killed him straight out, and would be lucky again if they didn’t hunt him down now that the activity seemed to be dying out. It occurred to him to move deeper into the brush to hide, but he had neither the strength nor the will. He had not even fetched his short blade from where it had landed earlier when the big brute broke his arm. He had another, though. With just one blade, he was no worse off than he had been before they had stumbled across the Man-camp in the first place. Contemplating these things, Grask at some point began to shiver, whether from shock, fear, or a sudden chill, or all three. But then, for some inexplicable reason, a soothing sensation came over him. Was that a song? Yes, a song, and far different than any he had ever heard. No Orc could sing like that. It must be one of the Men then… but that thought, rather than invoking more fear, brought only gentle peace to his young heart. Suddenly exhausted, Grask fell swiftly asleep, the song of the Elves in his ears.