Post by Neko on Feb 22, 2014 12:02:10 GMT -5
::The woman rushes behind Miroslaw and grips to him tightly when he gets near. Her face is buried in your shoulderblade as sobbing is heard.::
"Please. Please don't let them hurt me."
::The old man rushes to stand next to the large man as he draws the sword from his waist and drops it in the grass. He moves so haphazardly out of fear that the ill fitting helm falls from his head without even having to touch it to remove it.::
"How do you know what it is? You can tell that from the horn?"
"Aye, from the sound of it. And the mount. I have traveled near their lands. They seek honor in battle and the hunt. They take trophies from their kills. Animal or human. But they see no honor. No sport. In fighting things that can't or won't fight back.
"How do you know he ain't, you know, a rebel or sumthin?"
"I don't."
::The rider continues towards the group, gaining speed as he goes. His bearing shifts as Deerfield moves and draws attention to himself. As it nears you can see him more clearly. He wears simple leather armor. Across his back are strapped dual two handed blades with very familiar looking hilts. Quivers bounce on either side on the mount with bows hanging near. Again the fletching on the arrows would be very familiar. Other weapons can be seen strapped and hung here and there along with various bones, skulls (humanoid and animals both), and bits of pelt and leather. The strange mount looks very similar to a horse in size and build, but with a striped hide and a set of antlers about two feet in length sticking straight back from its head. Some of the Orc's "trophies" dangle from them. The mount is unarmored.
As he nears Deerfield, he draws one of the blades from his back with one hand, while holding onto the reins with the other. Once close enough he makes to ride past Deerfield as he swings a blow aimed to take your head off your shoulders as he lets out a battlecry.::
((EDIT: Added description of mount))
"Please. Please don't let them hurt me."
::The old man rushes to stand next to the large man as he draws the sword from his waist and drops it in the grass. He moves so haphazardly out of fear that the ill fitting helm falls from his head without even having to touch it to remove it.::
"How do you know what it is? You can tell that from the horn?"
"Aye, from the sound of it. And the mount. I have traveled near their lands. They seek honor in battle and the hunt. They take trophies from their kills. Animal or human. But they see no honor. No sport. In fighting things that can't or won't fight back.
"How do you know he ain't, you know, a rebel or sumthin?"
"I don't."
::The rider continues towards the group, gaining speed as he goes. His bearing shifts as Deerfield moves and draws attention to himself. As it nears you can see him more clearly. He wears simple leather armor. Across his back are strapped dual two handed blades with very familiar looking hilts. Quivers bounce on either side on the mount with bows hanging near. Again the fletching on the arrows would be very familiar. Other weapons can be seen strapped and hung here and there along with various bones, skulls (humanoid and animals both), and bits of pelt and leather. The strange mount looks very similar to a horse in size and build, but with a striped hide and a set of antlers about two feet in length sticking straight back from its head. Some of the Orc's "trophies" dangle from them. The mount is unarmored.
As he nears Deerfield, he draws one of the blades from his back with one hand, while holding onto the reins with the other. Once close enough he makes to ride past Deerfield as he swings a blow aimed to take your head off your shoulders as he lets out a battlecry.::
((EDIT: Added description of mount))