The Woses' Skor (June 2987) - [Skor]
Nov 12, 2017 21:30:56 GMT -5
Post by Farin on Nov 12, 2017 21:30:56 GMT -5
Green eyes shifted nervously, marking the shortest looking tall-folk he had seen circled about the red-headed dwarf, bows draw to full, and arrowheads trained to his chest and gut, the scent of the thick-coated poison stinging Farin’s nose.
“Well?” The dark-skinned man drawled, a snarl in the lift of his lip. “Choose, dwarf.” His dark hair was as wild as the men seemed to be, his clothing mostly fur and leather; nothing about him looked kingly, but the man had been adamant about how this was his forest, making sure the dwarf of Erebor knew his name. Chief Ghân-buri-Ghân, he had called himself.
Farin had known of the Woses, but he had thought he would be able to avoid them; he was but one dwarf, and lighter of feet than some of his kin because he was so accustomed to traveling alone. He had heard they were stumpy, fat individuals; for them to catch him so readily as he had begun to pass through the Druedan Forest. It seemed they kept a far more watchful perimeter than he had originally thought.
“I don’t understand,” Farin declared. “Why is this treasure of yours lost if it’s just in a cave? You know where it is.”
The wildmen began to mutter and curse, though the words were unintelligible to Farin. The tongue of the Woses seemed guttural and harsh, though not similar enough to the tongue of dwarves for him to understand beyond the feeling they left in the air. There had to be something in the cave, something they were not going to tell him about. Ghân-buri-Ghân snarled, his gnarled arms drew his bowstring tighter. “I said choose! Die here, or fetch our jewel!”
“Very well, I will fetch your jewel,” Farin declared, his eyes bewildered as he watched the Druedain men immediately lowered their bows. “I…I don’t know where the cave is,” he admitted.
The chief grunted, slipping his poisoned arrow back into its quiver. “We’ll show you, dwarf,” he said. And at once he began to move, his short legs making it very easy for Farin to keep stride. They walked for a few hours before the wildmen suddenly stopped short, and Farin stumbled to a halt behind. “That way. If you try to come through our forest without that jewel, we will know, dwarf,” the chief grunted.
“I-I-won’t,” Farin assured, he stepped toward the direction that they were pointing, going a few paces before pausing and turning. “What is in this cave?” He asked. However, when he found himself facing the direction Ghân-buri-Ghân had been standing, flanked by his men, he found nothing but empty forest. His green eyes cast a wary sweep over the brush and trunks; they were watching, they had to be.
“What’ve you gotten yourself into, Farin?” He asked himself, a hand coming to stroke and pull his lengthy red beard. He took a tentative step forward, drawing his sword, and lifting his shield. As lightly as he could turn his steps, he passed forward, straining his ears to listen, and drawing deep breaths to smell the air.
Nothing seemed overly apparent to be amiss, but as he continued forward, he could begin to make out the large, gaping entrance to a cave. It was far bigger than the dwarf had been expecting, and he felt the hair on his neck and arms stand on end. If this was the cave where these Woses had their jewel, something large was guarding it. “I don’t suppose I’m lucky enough that it’s just going to be some orc,” he grumbled to himself. With a shaky breath, he took another step forward.
“Well?” The dark-skinned man drawled, a snarl in the lift of his lip. “Choose, dwarf.” His dark hair was as wild as the men seemed to be, his clothing mostly fur and leather; nothing about him looked kingly, but the man had been adamant about how this was his forest, making sure the dwarf of Erebor knew his name. Chief Ghân-buri-Ghân, he had called himself.
Farin had known of the Woses, but he had thought he would be able to avoid them; he was but one dwarf, and lighter of feet than some of his kin because he was so accustomed to traveling alone. He had heard they were stumpy, fat individuals; for them to catch him so readily as he had begun to pass through the Druedan Forest. It seemed they kept a far more watchful perimeter than he had originally thought.
“I don’t understand,” Farin declared. “Why is this treasure of yours lost if it’s just in a cave? You know where it is.”
The wildmen began to mutter and curse, though the words were unintelligible to Farin. The tongue of the Woses seemed guttural and harsh, though not similar enough to the tongue of dwarves for him to understand beyond the feeling they left in the air. There had to be something in the cave, something they were not going to tell him about. Ghân-buri-Ghân snarled, his gnarled arms drew his bowstring tighter. “I said choose! Die here, or fetch our jewel!”
“Very well, I will fetch your jewel,” Farin declared, his eyes bewildered as he watched the Druedain men immediately lowered their bows. “I…I don’t know where the cave is,” he admitted.
The chief grunted, slipping his poisoned arrow back into its quiver. “We’ll show you, dwarf,” he said. And at once he began to move, his short legs making it very easy for Farin to keep stride. They walked for a few hours before the wildmen suddenly stopped short, and Farin stumbled to a halt behind. “That way. If you try to come through our forest without that jewel, we will know, dwarf,” the chief grunted.
“I-I-won’t,” Farin assured, he stepped toward the direction that they were pointing, going a few paces before pausing and turning. “What is in this cave?” He asked. However, when he found himself facing the direction Ghân-buri-Ghân had been standing, flanked by his men, he found nothing but empty forest. His green eyes cast a wary sweep over the brush and trunks; they were watching, they had to be.
“What’ve you gotten yourself into, Farin?” He asked himself, a hand coming to stroke and pull his lengthy red beard. He took a tentative step forward, drawing his sword, and lifting his shield. As lightly as he could turn his steps, he passed forward, straining his ears to listen, and drawing deep breaths to smell the air.
Nothing seemed overly apparent to be amiss, but as he continued forward, he could begin to make out the large, gaping entrance to a cave. It was far bigger than the dwarf had been expecting, and he felt the hair on his neck and arms stand on end. If this was the cave where these Woses had their jewel, something large was guarding it. “I don’t suppose I’m lucky enough that it’s just going to be some orc,” he grumbled to himself. With a shaky breath, he took another step forward.