Hi everyone! This is a write up of a recent game of adventure mode. I can write up more of Bagsnub's adventure's if there is interest.Bagsnub peered through the bushes at the human settlement. He had heard of humans from the tribal elders, but had seen one himself. The settlement was not much to look at; a cluster of wooden huts around which radiated out fields of corn, wheat and other crops. Rough dirt roads snaked through the fields into and from the town centre; they snaked away out of his site, probably leading eventually to other communities like this one.
Bagsnup crawled through the bushes and rose to his full nine feet. Perhaps the humans could direct him to what he needed.
He was a young ork of only 16 sun-cycles; on the brink of adulthood. The powerful tusks of an adult male ork had grown in for the first time this year, and they still gleamed white as he neared the first house. All orks of his age were tasked with completing the Yahza-Maa, a great rite of passage where a young ork must venture out of his tribe and live in the wilds until sought out and bested three powerful foes in pitches combat. The ork must bring evidence of his final kill back with him to his tribe.(No ork would dare lie about the other two; they are superstitious by nature and fear the supposed omniscience of their shaman.)
This rite serves two purposes: it acts primarily as test, ensuring that only the strongest, fastest, and most powerful orks survive to join the tribe - weak orks either die in combat or fail to return home out of shame.Its secondary benefit in lies the return of orks, matured and wizened from their experiences, who serves as a valuable sources of knowledge for the tribe, informing it of the goings-on of the world.
Bagsnub thought of none of this as he entered the house. He knew only that it was his duty to do battle; and a lot of it, with the most powerful enemies as the ork could find. The door was ajar; he entered the house, stooping to avoid its low ceiling. A blacksmith and his farmer wife sat upon the dirt floor playing cards. Neither had heard Bagsnub's approach; despite his size, he was lithe and stealthy, and had managed to come up behind them unnoticed.
He bashed the end of his spear on the ground.
"Humans!" he barked.
"Yuuaaahhh!" The two yelled and jumped to their feet, scrambling over each other to reach the back of the house.
"No frightened, humans. Bagsnub only make words with you."
The two peasants gave each other confused looks, before the blacksmith managed to stutter out.
"W-w-what.. d-do y-y-y-ou w-w-want *gulp* ork?"
"Where Bagsnub find battle. Humans weak, Bagsnub need fight."
The couple barely understood what he was saying; even if they could understand Bagsnub, they had no such problems in their village - all of the bandits had been wiped out years ago by a local champion, and none had taken up residence since. The countryside was quiet, without dangerous beasts or monsters.
"I-I-I d-don't know w-w-w-what y-you want, Ork, but y-y-you sh-sh-shou-shou-should leave. You aren't welcome here in the Decisive Forests."
Bagsnub narrowed his large eyes.
Humans afraid of Bagsnub. Bagsnub need human friend to tell him where fight is. Bagsnub stood deep in thought(or as deep in thought as orks get) for almost ten minutes. During this time, the peasants became progressively more terrified, as the sight of the ork's terrible, unmoving visage caused them to think they had gravely angered the creature. In reality, Bagsnub was only thinking of the best way to befriend the small, squishy apes.
Then, the proverbial lightbulb went off in Bagsnub's head. He would give the human in the apron with whom he had been conversing the traditional friendly greeting of his tribe.
"Tomgrub, Human!" Bagsnub beamed, stuck his hands out around the blacksmith's neck, and squeezed.
Now, if you are a 400 pound muscle-bound ork with a neck the size of a small tree, this might not have been an issue. On the other hand, if you are a 170 pound blacksmith, strong but getting on in years, then this particular greeting might pose somewhat of a problem.
It posed a problem to Onbir Tethagisla, human blacksmith. At once his eyes began bulging out his sockets, and he began a futile struggle against Bagsnub's grip. He gripped the ork's great hands from around his throat and attempted to pry them off, but to no avail. He then tried to hit Bagsnub, but by then he was hazy from lack of oxygen, and his weak blows failed to even land.
"No human. Hands go my neck!" Bagsnub said cheerfully, oblivious to the human's distress. It didn't take long before the blacksmith lost consciousness.
When Bagsnub released his grip, the unconsciousness body of the blacksmith slid to the floor and piled in a heap.
"What so interesting down there human? Find Bagsnub fight?" He chuckled heartily. Bagsnub then noticed the farmer across the room. She was looking over the scene in abject shock and horror.
"What wrong, human? Bagsnub friend!" He reached out his hands to give her the same welcome.
Emeg Tradeale wasn't about to take any chances - not after what happened to Onbir. Taking the small copper boning knife from her belt, she slashed out at her imposing foe.
"Get away from me, you freak!" Bagsnub deftly dogged the strike like it was the swat of a child.
He chuckled. "What you doing human? Now not time for spar."
"You killed my husband! I'll kill you ya damned monster!" Emeg slashed at Bagsnub again. Once again the blow was dogged, but it came dangerously close to cutting him.
The ork was no longer amused. He sensed this was no playful sparring. He was being attacked. The farmer came in for another blow.
"Puny human! None attack Bagsnub!"
The ork stabbed out with his copper spear, tearing apart the flesh of the farmer's chest.
"Ah!" Emeg shouted in pain.
"No human match for ork!"
He lunged with his spear, plunging his weapon straight into the peasant's abdomen. The spear went deep, tearing the farmer's pancreas apart and spilling Emeg's blood across the floor.
"Grrrr!" Bagsnub growled as he tried to retrieve his spear from the farmer's body. This only intensified Emeg's pain, and she screamed and writhed about in agony. Giving up on the spear momentarily, Bagsnub slashed at Emeg with the dagger he held in his free hand. Emeg's was spasming in paim, however, and the ork's blow sailed over her head.
"Die human!" Bagsnub reared back and delivered a fearsome kick to the farmer's head. Her spine snapped like a twig, and she slumped onto the ground, unconsciousness but still alive. Not for long, however, as Bagsnub proceeded to tear the spear free before jabbing the point down into Emeg's head, killing her instantly.
The ork's eyes fell upon the blacksmith. While Bagsnub had felt no animosity towards him before, he was now in the throes of orkish bloodlust. He walked towards his body, still unconsciousness, and delivered a ferocious kick to his skull, tearing apart his flesh and spine. The second kick shattered the blacksmith's skull like an egg.
Bagsnub's lust for battle was not yet sated. He charged out the door, loosing a primeval roar, and charging towards the nearest house. Naked and now covered in spurts of blood, the ork was terrifying to behold as he burst down the door, spear and dagger in hand.
The potash farmer in the doorway had just enough time to turn around before Bagsnub was upon him.
"Die, human!" The spear sliced through his torso, tearing his right lung to shreds and spraying the room with blood. The force of the flow flung him backwards, and he tumbled across the floor before coming to the halt by the feet of a terrified brewer. The potash farmer began to cough torrents of blood down his shirt as he sputtered and hacked.
Bagsnub then lunged towards the brewer. He slashed right with his dagger, but the brewer had split second to react, and parried the strike with her own small blade. The jarring impact and the sound of clashing metal only enraged Bagsnub further. Pulling back his dagger hand, he threw a punch into the brewer's skull, smashing the flesh and tearing apart the spine. The brewer let out a gargled yelp of pain and she slumped to the floor, dropping the dagger.
Bagsnub stabbed down again at her. The brewer, however, had retained some control of her body, and she wormed away from blow at the last second. Bagsnub then struck out with the spear, and this blow didn't miss, tearing deep into her chest, ripping through flesh and bone into her left lung. Blood gushed forth from a severed artery, and wet the shaft of the spear now lay lodged deep in her body.
Bagsnub looked up to see three farmers advancing towards him, the wounded potash maker struggling behind. Not waiting to remove the spear, he slashed down at the first farmer with his copper dagger. The farmer managed to evade his strike, but was caught by the ork's arm and knocked over. The second farmer lunged at Bagsnub, slashing wildy, but missing the ork totally in his excitement. He had his arm was overextended after his strike and Bagnsup lunged forward, grabbed the second farmer's arm in his massive jaws, and, with one strain of his massive neck, ripped it from its socket and off his body.
Bagsnub let out a loud laugh through the flesh in his teeth.
He then noticed the mortally wounded brewer was to feebly attempting attack him. Removing the arm from his mouth, he hurled at the brewer with such forced that it shattered her right leg.
He turned to face the two uninjured farmers, who cautiously stood side by side, blades in hand. The second farmer was howling in agony, clutching the stump of his severed arm. The potash farmer was off to the side, panting and sputtering. Bagsnub darted forward and gave a short slash with his dagger, causing his foes to flinch. In the same instant, he leapt to the side and tore his spear out of the brewer's chest. The potash maker was now in front of him. He stabbed out with his spear once again, tearing another great gash in the man's chest, before bashing his skull in with the pommel of his dagger. Turning to the left, he stomped down upon the brewer's skull, extinguishing her life.
Bagsnub raised his arms to the ceiling. "Puny humans! You no match for Bagsnub!" He let out a great laugh that shook the walls of the dwelling.
The last farmer was smarter than his comrades. Instead of lunging into combat, he had hung back, silently wating for an opportunity to strike. Now that he had the chance, he darted forward from behind the ork and slashed his right arm with his carving knife. He scored a deep cut in the lower arm, and Bagsnub grunted with surprise.
He whirled around to face his attacked. "Bagsnub's turn!" He plunged his spear deep into the farmer's guts. The man staggered back for a few steps before torrents of vomit spewed from the his mouth, spattering the ground before him. Bagsnub then turned to the other farmer. The ork's spear sliced through his guts, and his dagger scored a deep cut into his upper leg. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the Bagsnub darted his head down and tore both the man's arms off with his sharp teeth.
The other farmer managed to stop vomiting for a brief moment, raised his knife, and stumbled towards Bagsnub. The ork whirled around and rammed his fist into the farmer's face with all his might. The skull shattered, and the man fell to the ground, dead.
Bagsnub slowly turned around. The man in front of him was a bleeding, broke wreck, barely alive.
The ork began circling him, as the farmer made half-hearted swipes with his blade. Blood gushed forward from his wounds in torrents. As he continued to circle, Bagsnub pondering the most enjoyable way to finish the human off. Suddenly, using his last drop of strength, the farmer barged through the door and out into the fields. The attempt was in vain, however, as Bagsnub was right behind him, roaring in anger. The ork raised his leg and delivered a thunderous kick to the man's chest, shattering two of his ribs. He then leant down and tored off the rest of his right arm with his mouth. The shock and the heavy bleeding were finally too much for the farmer, who collapsed, dead.
"Bagsnub strong! Humans weak!" Then a sudden slam sounded behind him. He looked back at the house, searching for the sound.
The back door! It was slowly swinging back and forth. Bagsnub ran through the house towards , the floor now nearly an inch deep in blood and littered with body parts and corpses.
He burst through the back door, to see the final farmer crawling away.
Must have slip out during fight, he thought.
"No run from Bagsnub!" He roared. He began to charge the man, who let out a terrified scream as the ork bore down upon him. Bagsnub leapt at the downed farmer, but was forced to jump out of the way to dodge a desperate knife strike.
"You die now!" Bagsnub shouted. The ork deftly darted in with his spear and skewered the farmer's head, popping it open like a ripe grape.
[To be continued?
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Topic: The Gore-Soaked Adventures of Bagsnub Honeyglutton, Orkish Barbarian (Read 1526 times)