>>5893490
You observe the mouth of the pass from your tall stone perch. Nothing moves beneath you, save the flickering lights in the watchtower’s windows as shadows move about inside, and all is quiet save the mournful voice of the wind snaking between the mountains.

You stealthily withdraw along the winding passage through the mountains, taking care to stay low and slow until the smoky aroma of the watchtower is well behind you. With natural ease your serpentine body winds around the jagged rock face as you scale it, creeping higher and higher with the occasional aid of your wings until their pinions quiver at the touch of a warm updraft. You unfurl them and catch the rising wind, circling and letting it carry you high enough that you have an unbroken view of the wide border of mountains separating the valleys from one another, two great swathes of land split by an expanse of naked rock.

Soon enough, you find yourself soaring above the valley where you arrived. It is a wide, deep, heavily forested basin running from north to south, enclosed on every side by mountains that rise like jagged teeth of stone and snow in the maw of some elder beast, with the very densest woodland concentrated in the northernmost half around the lake at which you first landed. It sits at the feet of the enormous, ice-capped mountains in the high north, its crystal waters glittering in the light of late day, and from it flows a long, southbound river that splits the valley down the centre. Straight with little meander, it runs through the thinly wooded hills and disappears into the sparser, shorter peaks in the south, between the tips of which you can just barely make out the land beyond through the grey haze.

When you left, the valley was awash with the muted greens and browns of hardy foliage. Now the landscape is a blanket of mottled white, with treetops dusted and grassy fields buried. And now, studying the land with a more critical eye, you spot something that had previously evaded your notice. To the southwest of the lake there is a patch of uneven, oddly-shaped land higher than the rest, the vegetation thinner and crags larger than anywhere else save the slopes. One jagged hill seems especially strange to your eyes, to the point where it sticks out like a bent coin, and not merely for odd shape. There is… something about that place. Something that makes your draconic blood pull at your veins.

As you steadily circle over the valley, moving across it at an easy pace, you find yourself pondering exactly where a band of bloodthirsty orcs might choose to hide. You have it on good authority that darkness and cold are an orc’s friends, and you imagine that they would take well to any number of nooks and crevices hidden in the valley below. The orc you interrogated spoke of a cave and a river before he died, but he mentioned it being to the west, and the only river you can see runs directly south of where you were.

>>5893493
You furrow your scaled brows. Never had you expected such simple creatures to be so vexing.

Suddenly, movement catches your eye. Beneath you, in a patch of woodland bordering the southern grasslands, dark shapes thunder beneath the trees at speed. One bursts forth from the tree line, and then more and more until a full hundred reindeer frantically race southward into the plains, screeching as they go. They are fleeing, you realise, seeking the safety of open grassland where their speed will most avail them. From what, you wonder?

As you watch the delectable beasts fall over each other that you cannot help but turn your head to find its origin. Though you can see nothing yet, the smell is distinct enough that you are confident you could find the source should you desire.

>Search the banks of the river for any signs of orc presence. As little as it is, that diminutive orc’s last words are the only ideas you have not based on speculation.

>Fly to the strangely-shaped hill. Something about in is enticing on a base level, and you intend to indulge it.

>Descend and investigate the fleeing reindeer. Whatever has frightened them into a frenzy in your valley, you would like to know.

>Fly west to find the source of the smoke. Though many smells can be discerned from their similarities to other aromas, this has you too curious to ignore.

>Write in

Welcome back, or if this is your first time playing, welcome! Although this quest was definitely on the back burner for a while, I haven’t been completely idle. Among other things, I’ve been reading the various Middle Earth Role Playing modules and ended up finding some things I like, most of all the highly detailed maps that came with each module.

2024 is the year of the dragon, and January 16th is apparently appreciate-a-dragon day. Hopefully that’s all a sign of good things to come.

First thread: http://www.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5790785/

>>5893496
>Descend and investigate the fleeing reindeer. Whatever has frightened them into a frenzy in your valley, you would like to know.

Its back!

>>5893496

>Fly to the strangely-shaped hill. Something about in is enticing on a base level, and you intend to indulge it.

I’m ecstatic that this has returned

>>5893496
>>Fly west to find the source of the smoke. Though many smells can be discerned from their similarities to other aromas, this has you too curious to ignore.

>>5893496
>>Descend and investigate the fleeing reindeer. Whatever has frightened them into a frenzy in your valley, you would like to know.

>>5893496
>Descend and investigate the fleeing reindeer. Whatever has frightened them into a frenzy in your valley, you would like to know.

>>5893496
>Fly to the strangely-shaped hill. Something about in is enticing on a base level, and you intend to indulge it.
I'd honestly love to set ourselves up as a Lord or King, have our own microstate dedicated to supporting our Greed

>>5893496
>>Fly to the strangely-shaped hill. Something about in is enticing on a base level, and you intend to indulge it.
King of the Hill

>>5893496
Awesome to see you back, QM. Trust the plan. https://archive.palanq.win/qst/thread/5790785/#5809393

>Descend and investigate the fleeing reindeer. Whatever has frightened them into a frenzy in your valley, you would like to know.
Whether it's the movements of an orc horde or some other beast, it's important that we know.

>>5893496
Sorry, that last paragraph should be:

As you watch the delectable beasts fall over each other in their mad panic, your nostrils twitch at an unexpected trace of scent. In the westward wind you smell, strangely enough, the familiarly sharp aroma of smoke, unmistakable to one such as yourself. Though this smoke, you realise, contains notes of something new, something so strikingly pungent that you cannot help but turn your head to find its origin. Though you can see nothing yet, the smell is distinct enough that you are confident you could find the source should you desire.

I think I accidentally deleted it. My bad. I’m really happy to see so many people returning, anyway.

>>Fly west to find the source of the smoke. Though many smells can be discerned from their similarities to other aromas, this has you too curious to ignore.

>>5893496
>>Descend and investigate the fleeing reindeer. Whatever has frightened them into a frenzy in your valley, you would like to know.

>>5893977

This quest was extremely based and /qst/anons have long memories, anon. We'll hang on for years on the slimmest of hopes...

>>5893496
>Fly to the strangely-shaped hill. Something about in is enticing on a base level, and you intend to indulge it.

>>5893496
>>Descend and investigate the fleeing reindeer. Whatever has frightened them into a frenzy in your valley, you would like to know.

Welcome back!

Welcome back !!!!!!!!

>>5893496
>Descend and investigate the fleeing reindeer. Whatever has frightened them into a frenzy in your valley, you would like to know.

You’re investigating the panicked deer in an attempt to find out what has them so spooked. Writing.

>>5893496
>>Descend

Caught up on the previous thread. Good shit, man. You've got yourself a new reader.

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You lean forward into a shallow dive, allowing the tension in your wings to ease as you quickly fall to the ground. Angled toward the fleeing creatures, you squint your eyes against the rushing wind, and soon notice something odd.

Two of the reindeer, both impressive specimens, are lagging behind the rest, at first only by a little but rapidly losing ground until their herd has left them well behind. Their gait is awkward and stiff as they struggle, quite hopelessly, to rejoin the collective, until their flagging strength finally runs out and they slow to a halt in the middle of the open plain. For a moment they stand together, looking about as though calm and unbothered, until one of them lowers its head, shudders, then keels over into the shallow snow.

By now you are coming in to land, and as you drag on the air beneath your wings the deer still on its feet can only stare at what must seem to it some winged mass of darkness given substance. It stands on shuddering legs, and is almost bowled over by the force of your landing as you touch down nary a wing’s breadth from the two creatures, but it somehow manages to keep its footing. And, whether by animal courage or the sheer weight of its exhaustion, it does not move as you loom over it.

For a moment you simply meet one another’s stares, soft golden-brown and blazing orange. You do not even bother to exert your will over it, as weakened and close to death as is so clearly is, and there you both stay until the deer at last gives in. It billows steamy air from its nostrils and lets out something halfway between a keening cry and a wet gurgle before its legs finally give out and it joins its companion on the ground, limp. By the time you make it over, it has already breathed its last.

Although the scent of fresh meat makes you slaver at the mouth, you restrain your hunger for the time being and instead inspect the corpses. It takes you only a moment to find dark, damp patches on the creatures’ flank from which small bundles of black feathers sprout, almost completely burrowed into the fat and muscle like flesh-eating beetles. The wounds have a sickly-sweet smell to them, and the bundles even more so, and you are certain they are no product of nature.

It was wise of you to follow your hunch. These kills were not made by simple woodland predators hunting for a meal, nor by the man-folk who you know to favour arrows, which leaves only one group as culprit. And sure enough, as you hear footfalls and turn to face their source, you find yourself face to face with an unkempt pack of orcs.

—

“Up with the pace, you maggots! You make me set foot in sunlight, and there’ll be a lashing for the slowest pair of legs!”

Ishmoz spurred himself onward as he weaved through the trees in pursuit of his fellow orcs. As the last member of their little party of four, the Gundabad orc’s snarled threat had an especially potent effect on him, and worked his short legs with strength he did not have.

>>5896803
Neither he nor the other two orcs liked the arrangement - how could they? - but what choice did they have to obey? They could certainly gang up and kill him, but more likely than not he would kill at least one of them before he himself fell, and none of them wanted to chance being the unlucky one. That was, of course, by design; there was a reason the heavyset orc had proper weaponry and tanned leather armour while they were permitted only blowguns and hunting knives.

And so Ishmoz continued to run with his hunting party, running down the reindeer they had shot full of venom. The dense canopy began to thin as they went, letting shafts of evening sun through to the forest floor that made him itch terribly whenever they hit him. His heart sank as they neared the edge of the forest with no deer in sight, and sank further when the Gundabad orc, who went by the name Lamlûg, turned to shoot him a sadistic sneer. The stocky orc had already sworn to savagely beat Kâka for missing his shot, and was known for upholding such promises.

They emerged into the open plain, shielding their eyes as best as they could from the sun’s glare as they stayed the trail. The ground was thicker with snow here, which both helped and hindered their progress, for though the deer tracks were obvious, the snow made the ground treacherous and hid many dips and humps that threatened to send them tumbling head-over-rear.

Kâka, their tracker, began to sniff more fervently, and the other three looked to him expectantly.

“We’re close,” he said between sniffs. “The herd passed through ‘ere not too long ago, and the smell’s stronger than before. I smell the poison an’ all.”

“Took you long enough,” grunted Lamlûg, who acted as though he expected them to catch up to a herd of reindeer on foot, which wouldn’t be out of character. Kâka, however, did not then proceed, and instead began to sniff deeper, which earned him a withering glare. “What’s it now, runt?”

“A-ah, nothin’ much, m’lord, only…” Kâka stammered before breathing deeply again, “I smell… somethin’.”

Lamlûg huffed. “I should hope so. That’s what we keep you around for. What of it?”

“It’s just… strange. Like nothin’ I ever smelled before, ‘cept a bit like fire.” The snuffler looked from orc to orc with uneasy eyes, and Ishmoz felt an icy chill take root in his gut. “Somethin’ ain’t right. We shouldn’t be ‘ere.”

A beat passed between them before Lamlûg’s gloved fist cuffed Kâka on the temple and sent him to the ground. The bigger orc loomed over his lesser and growled as he drew the first few inches of his scimitar from its scabbard.

>>5896804
“I decide where we should and shouldn’t be, snaga, not you, not any of you stunted woodland weaklings. Now, I suggest you swallow your silly fears sharpish. The chief likes his meat, and if it’s not deer he eats tonight, it’s probably going to be the scrawny git whose job it was to get him some.”

Kâka swallowed and eyed the sharpened metal for a moment, then nodded and pushed himself to his feet, apparently having decided that his commander was a realer danger than any gut feeling he might have. Ishmoz thought that sensible.

With that they pushed onward until, at last, their tracker held up a hand.

“Just over this ‘ere mound,” he said, his nostrils twitching as he crested the hill. “I can smell the poison, an’-“

Kâka’s voice caught in his throat as though he’d taken a shiv to the back, which Ishmoz wouldn’t put past their leader. However, Lamlûg behind them spurring them on, and Kâka’s eyes were fixed on something over the hill.

“Looks like you’ve saved your hide for another day, Kâka,” Lamlûg chortled as he climbed up behind them, forcing them forward. “All that’s left is to drag it all the way back to the-“

And much like Kâka, Lamlûg’s voice abandoned him, and Ishmoz could see why. For there below them, crouched over the corpses of the deer they had been hunting, was an enormous black dragon staring right back at them.

It flexed its wings - wings, great and bat-like - and its spiny tail lashed lazily as it seemed to size them up. Its claws carved great gashes into the earth, and its eyes seemed to flare and flash like burning coals in a fire pit. Ishmoz could not breathe, never mind drop his equipment and run for shelter. His very blood seemed to have turned to ice in his veins.

And it all got so much worse when Ishmoz heard the unmistakable thwoom of a blowgun.

—

The projectile bounces off of the tough scales on your foreleg, a glancing blow that leaves hardly a scratch. You look down to see what the mad little monster had fired at you, a small black bundle with a sickly-sweet smell and feathers on the end. These things, no doubt, were how they killed the reindeer. Its tip, now bent out of shape, is wickedly barbed to work itself deeper with every movement, and clearly envenomed. The orc itself, quivering with dread, held some form of long tube from which it had fired the projectile with its breath of all things. Never had your mother described such queer forms of weaponry to you.

>>5896807
You turn your gaze back to the orcs, still frozen in place by no intervention from yourself. Here you had found what you sought, or a portion of them at least, but they had attacked you. Truth be told, you find yourself somewhat divided.

>Slay them out of principle. Potential pawns or not, an attack on your person is something that simply cannot be borne. You have no time for mindless rabble, and there is always the peculiar smell of smoke should you run out of leads.

>Call out to them, and pardon their foolishness this once. They are far more useful to you alive than dead, and they ultimately dealt you no harm. You will, however, refrain from influencing them. (Say what?)

>Kill the one that shot you, but leave the others alive so long as they do not raise arms against you. You won’t tolerate an attack on your person, but you aren’t completely without mercy when it suits.

>Attempt to use your gaze to influence them. Hopefully some combination of words and your innate power will be enough to bend them at least somewhat to your whims. True, you have almost no experience using it on anything more complex than robbing something of its ability to move, but practice makes perfect. (Say what?)

>Write in

>>5896808
To those not fully familiar with Tolkien’s dragons, I should mention that using your draconic gaze isn’t just limited to extracting information from half-dead orcs. Dragons can use it to inflict a range of emotions and effects, and, should you desire, you can attempt to use it in the same ways.
That said, some applications are more difficult than others. A 20 year-old drake is definitely no Glaurung-tier mindfucker, for instance.

>>5896808
>Kill the one that shot you, but leave the others alive so long as they do not raise arms against you. You won’t tolerate an attack on your person, but you aren’t completely without mercy when it suits.

>>5896808
>Kill the one that shot you, but leave the others alive so long as they do not raise arms against you. You won’t tolerate an attack on your person, but you aren’t completely without mercy when it suits.
>>Attempt to use your gaze to influence them. Hopefully some combination of words and your innate power will be enough to bend them at least somewhat to your whims. True, you have almost no experience using it on anything more complex than robbing something of its ability to move, but practice makes perfect.
"Hold Still."
(Kill the one that shot at us.)
"Now, tell me everything that you know about everything that matters. We have time."

>>5896840
>>5896841

Supporting, this is the fastest and most effective way to get results

>>5896808
>Attempt to use your gaze to influence them. Hopefully some combination of words and your innate power will be enough to bend them at least somewhat to your whims. True, you have almost no experience using it on anything more complex than robbing something of its ability to move, but practice makes perfect. (Say what?)
"Take the head of that foolish one, and I shall gift the rest life. Bend a knee to me, and I shall gift the rest peace. Swear eternal fealty, and I shall gift the rest Greatness. Refuse me, and none of you shall leave this place alive."

>>5896841
Supporting, I want to make this Fucker SUFFER for DARING TO SHOOT US!

>>5896808
>>5896841
Seconded. Don't forget our calling card once this encounter is over with.

https://archived.moe/qst/thread/5790785/#5809394

You’re opening negotiations with a well-deserved disemboweling and using your hypnotic gaze to maintain order.

Those of you from the last thread will remember the whole 3x 3d6 dice system I tried to do, which is something else I’ve given thought to. I’ve decided to do away with the three lots of 3d6 and instead replace it with three individual rolls of 1d6 which will be combined, which I think will make rolls more exciting. Same basic concept, less safety nets.

With that said, three people roll me 1d6. You’re trying to exert your will over three orcs as you kill one of their own right in front of them, so this will be a fairly difficult DC of 13.

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Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>5897795
Just so long as you remember to adjust DCs accordingly!

How do we roll on 4chan exactly?

Rolled 2 (1d6)

I think I found it out

>>5897846
Welp, I figured it out, but damn did I not figure out that I had poor as shit's luck with dice.

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>5897795
Doesn't this system make things more difficult?

>>5897853
Added together, and thats 8, definetly not a pass. As for difficultly, well this is why I always liked rolling a d20 instead of a d6, because it requires some version of every single dice roll being at some high number of 4 or more for each roll to pass to add together for an accumalative result, that rarely if ever actually manages to meet the DC its trying to beat against.

>>5897853
…Yes, it does. Significantly so, now that I see it in action. Maybe I’m just trying to be fancy for no reason. Do you guys think I should just do the standard 1d100 BO3 that so many other quests use? Or return to the 3x3d6 method from the previous thread? Either way, I can just ignore the failed roll this time since it’s more my fault for picking a pretty harsh system with no form of reroll like before. Sorry to keep messing with you all like this.

>>5897870
You are doing a great job so far and please feel free to use whatever dice set up you prefer. I personally think d20 works good for this quest and has higher stakes than d100s;

>>5897870
Either of those is fine with me, I found it really strange that you changed it seemingly on whim.

>>5897870
I personally think the system we were using before better suits the majesty of a dragon. Maybe consider reducing it to bo2 or bo1 against other dragons or powerful entities. But lesser creatures should be...easy prey.

>>5897870

Consistency matters more than the actual system, imho.

So once you pick a system, better to stick to it and then simply adjust DCs accordingly.

Thanks for the feedback. In that case, let’s just stick with what we were using before. Three people roll 3d6.

>>5897879
Yeah, the main thing I found trouble with has been balancing the quest as a form of game, IMO. I panicked and changed things when I really shouldn’t have.

>>5897878
Eh, the feeling you get from rolling a nat 100 is not quite comparable to a nat 20. But it does make the DC system easier to work with then the d100, because the numbers for it are just way too big for the stakes put forward. >>5897870
As for the system, the first one was fine, but systems can get stiflying when they dont evolve with the want of the GM. If you don't really feel comfortable with 3+3d6, then I wouldn't advise trying to adopt the dice from other quests that had very different ideas of how they would handle dice rolling on their own. Maybe a d20, as its still a risky and difficult roll, but its not systematically impossible to do unlike the 1d6 one or as nebulous as the d100 one.

>>5897927

Would you call for a new set of rolls for clarity?

Don’t beat yourself up about the mechanics, most QMs experiment with things here and there and this is a normal process

Rolled 2, 6, 5 = 13 (3d6)

>>5897927
>>5897943
He did, roll 3d6 anon.

Rolled 3, 2, 1 = 6 (3d6)

>>5897947

Derp, didn’t see it, thx anon

Looks like Im last then.

Rolled 6, 4, 1 = 11 (3d6)

Lets see the result.

>>5897947
And the result didn't matter because we already beated the DC, damn am I a stupid Anon.

>>5897927
I wonder if (with enough time) we could make some Orcs into a potent force as our Nightguard, maybe with a bunch of Men as our Dayguard

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I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you guys missed the DC under the original rules from the first thread. Here’s a prettier infographic than last time explaining it.

Anyway, it’s not the end of the world. Life is cheap to orcs, and the situation might still be somewhat salvageable. I’ll start writing soon.

>>5898685

I'll be honest, I feel as though you're overthinking things with the rolling system.

>>5898685
Hope you're not dead, OP! I love your work so far!

>>5902096

He usually has a slower update schedule, nothing to worry about anon

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Your indignation gains the upper hand, the sight of the lowly creature that in the madness of its fear sought to harm you fanning the flames of your ire, and you decide that such offence cannot be borne. Your lips curl back in a bloodthirsty sneer, your fangs glistening wet and murderous in the waning light like rows of interlocked blades, and two jets of searing-hot black smoke shoot from your nostrils, all punctuated by a deep, rolling growl that shakes the air and rumbles through the earth. The orcs quail at the display, the one with the tube especially reeling back as though struck, and you take swift advantage of the weakness in their resolve.

You summon up your will to dominate, giving it substance and sending it outward to wrap around the orcs’ bodies like a creeping tendril. The twin flames of your eyes flash with new ferocity, and the orcs are yours.

“Hold Still,” you command in a low and terrible voice, and their stunted limbs become as rigid as stone. Their eyes go wide as they feel you wrest all freedom from them, and you feel them twist and writhe fruitlessly against your immaterial grasp. The biggest orc in particular strains against you to buck and scream like a frenzied animal, equal parts terror and rage, but it can manage no more than twitching his fingers. Rather than prowling like a hunter approaching cornered prey, you stride boldly forth with all the poise and might of one meant to rule lesser beasts such as the rabble before you. It is a new sensation, yet natural to the extent that you might dare call it familiar on some elder, primal level.

You rise over the foolish orc that threw its life away, forcibly locking its sickly yellow eyes with your own. Beneath the miasma of terror pouring from its grey hide you sense the agony looking into your eyes causes it, but you do not let it look away. Instead, you take care to hold its vision perfectly straight as you slowly raise one forelimb, black talons gleaming with killing intent, and hold it high in the air for a moment. The orc looks at you, you look at it, and you bring the claw sweeping down across its front.

Your blow cuts through flesh, bone and clothing alike. Black, oily entrails tumble out and stain the snow, and the orc is dead before it can even collapse. With that task attended to, you turn to the remaining orcs, and an idea strikes you. Still held fast, they watch as your eyes take on their softer, enticing glow that you used to charm the dying orc two days prior.

>>5908308
However, as you attempt to deepen your control over them, you make a mistake. Too quickly and too greedily have you tried to ply your mind’s craft to greater things. Now you see your folly, for in attempting to don an air of persuasion you have shed the image of domination that held them in place. You realise this and attempt to wrestle back control as best you can, your mental chain tightening, yet slipping in your despite. The chain breaks entirely, and the orcs are again free.

The first to realise is the burliest of the bunch, who, upon finding its arms obedient once more, draws its curved sword and slashes at the forelimb closest to it with a throaty yell in a manner reminiscent of the first one you slew. It seems that these stronger, paler orcs, when possessed by a great terror, choose to lash out rather than flee for their lives.

The orc’s swing is sluggish, however, and you manage to yank your arm up quickly enough that the sword sails harmlessly beneath it as its owner staggers. Once more you find yourself incensed at the gall of orcs, and once more you bring your forelimb down upon the object of your chagrin. This time you clench your claw into a great hammer of flesh and scale, swinging it into the orc’s chest and sending it sailing above the ground. It crashes into a bank of frozen mud, giving wet, rhythmless gasps, and you turn your attention to the remaining orcs.

One is already flat in the snow despite you never having touched it. It is alive - the rising mist of its breath confirms it - but otherwise corpselike in its stillness. The last of the group, however, is very much lucid, and quivering like the windswept grass it stands on as it comes face to face with the beast of legend that crushed its fellows. You wait for a moment to see if this one is as foolish as the last two. When it shows no signs of drawing a blade or a tube or some other queer method of inflicting harm, you speak.

“You,” you say in Éothéod, and the orc seems to shrink even more. “Tell me everything that you know about everything that matters."

Your tone offers no room for dissent, and the orc blinks dumbly. For a moment it stands, staring, then seems to find its wits and its voice.

“I’m - or, er, apologies, but, what’s… everything? E-er, milord?” it manages to stammer out in its bastardised Éothéod, never once breaking eye contact. You imagine that, after seeing its companion slaughtered, being allowed to keep its life has been a pleasant but wholly unexpected surprise. You snort, the orc starting at the trails of smoke but wisely not fleeing.

>>5908309
“Set aside your fear, orc. I come before you seeking not slaughter, but information.” You wipe the black slime from your talons as you give the orc a level stare. “Your name, your intentions. Your numbers and your encampments and your weaponry, and anything else at all relevant to your presence in this valley. Do as I say and I shall let you leave here unscathed; conceal aught from me and you shall join your companion in death. Am I understood?”

The orc nods slowly, its expression still slack, unable to believe its own fortune. You hope its skill at relaying information exceeds its skill at absorbing it, for its own sake.

“Good,” you say. “And leave out no details. We have time.”

And so, under the light of the setting sun, the orc tells you what it knows. You learn that the creature’s name is Ishmoz, and until recently he was a member of one of the many minor orc tribes dispersed throughout the Grey Mountains. Kâka, the catatonic orc on the ground, and Shâka, the one whose guts you scattered across the ground, were his kinsmen. Though each tribe of orcs is few in number, especially compared to the numberless hosts raised in the Elder Days, there are many distinct groups, and together they lay claim to the vast majority of the western portion of the Grey Mountains. Individual claims are tenuous at best, however, and ownership of a region often changes based on which tribe can best throw their weight about at that particular time.

Even with all their rivalries and orcish politicking, the assorted tribes all find a measure of kinship in their shared hatred of the men and dwarves of the Mannish Vale. This is apparently the vast valley you laid eyes on for a short time in the mountain pass, into which the stripling mountain men disappeared. It stands as the last remnant of the great dwarvish realm after the great war between its occupants and your kind, who slaughtered and plundered dwarf-holds as they pleased until most dwarves fled to softer lands. Men from in and around the Grey Mountains soon joined the dwarves in their sheltered valley to strengthen themselves against increasingly bold orc raiders, and they tilled the soil as the dwarves worked the earth, and both parties made one another stronger for their cooperation. So strong, in fact, that all but the boldest orcs do not dare enter the Mannish Vale at all, nor this valley that neighbours it until very recently. Ishmoz’s group had been one of the many who stay well away from the axes and bows that guard the Vale’s borders.

>>5908313
“Until those from Gundabad came east, and started pressing whoever they could get their hands on into service,” Ishmoz says, motioning to the gasping heap that is his commander, Lamlûg, though never taking his eyes off of you. “Came in a great troop clad in thick armour and toting all manner of weaponry, and told us to fall in line or fall on their blades. Our old chieftain didn’t much like that and tried to rally a counter-offensive. He and his guards ended up feeding the carrion crows for their trouble. After that, the rest of us yielded and were put to work.”

You nod as you chew on a leg of reindeer, the dart’s venom giving it an odd aftertaste. “Mm. To what end?”

“Hunting, foraging, that manner of thing. The dwarves that came before cleared our territory of ore besides coal long ago, so our lot always worked mostly above ground. There’s plenty of new mouths from Gundabad to feed, not one of ‘em willing to catch his own supper, so we were chosen to spend every waking moment killing whatever we can drag back to their cave so the lazy rats can shove it down their gullets.” Ishmoz sneers, his spite boiling over before he freezes as he remembers the haunch you’re feasting on. “Or, er, well, that is to say, milord, I…”

“Cave?” you interrupt, tilting your head. “What cave would that be?”

Glad to have not offended, the orc quickly obliges. “Greenstone, they call it. An abandoned gold mine in the south end of the valley that used to belong to the dwarves until about eighty year ago, when the mine was sacked and they were forced out of the smouldering ruin. Word has it that they ran afoul of one of your kind, milord, a dragon.”

Your interest is piqued. A dragon? It must be the vanished elder, the one whose lair you now claim for yourself. You think back to the dying orc’s words about a cave where his chief dwelled. Might this cave be the very same? What would orcs seek to gain in a cave long since plundered, doubtlessly picked clean of every scrap of gold?

“The war chief from Gundabad has his efforts focused at a cave at the mouth of a river at the south end of the valley, all blocked off by a tick wall of rubble,” Ishmoz continues. “Gajakt, his name is; a nasty old git, that one. He’s got as many orcs as he can force to hold a pickaxe working to clear the way inside. From what I gather, that is. Gajakt is a clever one, not a braggart or a brute, and keeps his plans on a need-to-know basis. I’d be surprised if he even shared the whole thing with his fellows from Gundabad.”

>>5908316
Lamlûg groans pitifully, as if on cue. Kâka still lays in the snow, unresponsive.

>Continue questioning Ishmoz. The orc seems sharp of mind, at least more so than the other - admittedly few - orcs you have observed until now. The night is yet young, and he may have some more observations from which you might glean something useful. (Specific questions?)

>Try to get some answers out of Lamlûg. The Gundabad orc may be broken of body, but it seems likely that his higher rank affords him more comprehensive knowledge than the orc levies he lorded over. If you can extract even a little from him, it will almost certainly be useful. (Specific questions?)

>Attempt to wake Kâka with your will. The orc is something called a “snuffler”, a type of orc with an especially keen sense of smell. As a creature of similar talents to your own, perhaps conversing with him will provide a more relatable point of view for you than his fellows.

>Write in

>>5908318
>Gajakt
This isn't the first time we've heard of him. He's the guy currently occupying the cave we're eyeing.
https://archived.moe/qst/thread/5790785/#5805481

>Try to get some answers out of Lamlûg. The Gundabad orc may be broken of body, but it seems likely that his higher rank affords him more comprehensive knowledge than the orc levies he lorded over. If you can extract even a little from him, it will almost certainly be useful. (Specific questions?)
What Kâka smells in the cave may be useful information, but Lamlug's insight on orc movements and how Gajakt organizes his hierarchy would be invaluable. We could use the information to know when and where orcs would attack, leave our calling card to spread our legend further, and expedite our plan to incentivize the humans and dwarves to pay us in belongings in return for our favor. Meanwhile, we can help Ishmoz get rid of his boss problem and get them to stay on their side of the mountain in return. The humans, dwarves, and orcs will thank us for getting rid of Gajakt. This is a golden opportunity and the kind of scheme that is by no means foreign to dragon psychology.

>You nod as you chew on a leg of reindeer
Our guy hasn't learned to cook with his fire breath yet. We need to put the pedal to the metal.

By the way, it's great to see you back QM. Good stuff as always.

>>5908395
>support
like the idea, though our guy may figure that out after burning alive some orcs in heavy armor

>>5908395
Support anon’s plan, sounds very cunning.

>>5908395
Support

>>5908395

I support this excellent suggestion

>>5908395
support

>>5908395
Good thinking anon, +1 Support

>>5908395
Support!!

>>5908395
Solid plan, support

You’re going to try and work some answers out of Lamlûg, with the intention of eventually taking out a common foe in order to play both sides at once. Writing.

>>5910950
Thanks!

Orcs orcs orcs....

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49 KB JPG

Swallowing one last mouthful of reindeer, you move over to the spot where Lamlûg landed and look him over. The brawny orc lies face down in the snow, clutching at his chest and struggling for shallow breaths, and so completely lost in the world of his own pain that he is unaware of your closeness. This quickly changes when you slip a claw beneath the orc and flip him onto his back. He wakes at once and violently from his stupor, his shriek launching flecks of hot blood into the cool air.

“Cursed worm!”

You stand back, waiting for him to quiet down, but frantically trying to escape from his own broken bones only pains him more. For a while he simply rolls and writhes in the snow until your patience wears thin, so you take the matter in hand. Pinching his face between two black talons, you clench his head in place and shove your face in front of his, forcing his eyes to lock with your own.

“Be Still.” Your eyes flash hot and the screams are stolen from Lamlûg’s lungs. He gapes silently at the fanged maw a hair’s breadth from his squashed nose. His breath is heavy with the smell of blood, his skin skin slick with sweat despite the cold.

You hold him for a moment longer both in body and in mind. Without any convenient distractions to aid his escape he is powerless to resist you, and he soon buckles under the weight of your natural authority over his kind. You let your iron grip on his mind loosen, though you hold his head steady, lines of black blood trickling from where your claws pierce his clammy, leathery flesh.

“Lamlûg of Gundabad. Hear me and listen well.” You pull your head back to strike a more imperious figure, black and terrible against the darkening sky. “I expect you are all too aware of the shattered bones and pooling blood within you, but know that my breaking of you was only a formality, for I am one who suffers no arms raised against him. Remember your fallen underling, guts strewn in the snow for the crime of striking me, and count yourself lucky that your blow went astray.”

Lamlûg’s teeth chatter as he rasps for breath, and inhales sharply when you withdraw your claws somewhat. You flare your nostrils at him, thin fingers of smoke brushing his face.

“But know too that while I am merciless to those that would make war upon me, so too am I merciful to those who serve my purposes. I have need of you, Lamlûg, and all that you know of your leader. Give me what I want and you shall live to tell the tale.”

Lamlûg stares at you with red eyes ringed with sickly bloodshot yellow. For a long moment he makes no effort to reply, but a light pressure against his mind is enough to work a resigned, though wordless, nod from him.

You offer him a thin, fanged grin. “Wise. Tell me, then, of Gajakt your chief and whatever plots he might be hatching. Mind you leave nothing out.”

>>5923273
“Chief Gajakt is… an orc of… great renown in the west.” Lamlûg’s voice is harsh and throaty as he pants through his battered chest. “Taller than most, and stronger. He has slain many men and dwarves… and means to slay many more. Many years ago he fought… deep in Moria, and before the East Gate. Scores of the deadliest orcs and wargs he commands… and he answers only to… to the great chieftain himself.”

“Great chieftain?” You cock your head. An orc-king, perhaps? “And who is he?”

The orc’s lipless mouth twists. “He is the highest authority… in all Gundabad, and… its rightful lord, who claims it by… by right of wits and strength… and blood. He sent Chief Gajakt east with his best soldiers… to anchor his rule in the Grey Mountains. The cave… is important.”

“To what end? Tell me.” You urge him on. Disjointed and sparse his words may be, but you are unwilling to let such a font of information slip from between your claws just yet.

“Purge… the dwarves and the man-filth,” he says, licking at the blood flowing from his lips before coughing up more. “Claim their land and their lives… and grow his power… to take… his seat…”

Lamlûg’s eyes flicker as you feel him slipping from your hold, not by any resistance to your will but simply from the sheer weight of his suffering. His pulverised body has sapped him of all strength, even more so by the subjugation of his will by your own, and you can feel his mind fading.

Your eyes flare like suns as you put every mote of willpower you have into dragging one last tidbit of information out from Lamlûg’s lips before darkness takes him. “Who is he? What is his name?”

The orc’s eyes swell and bulge at the pressure, and vessels of black blood pop and dye them before coughing up a final syllable. “Bolg,” he gasps, and then falls still.

The wind is the only noise as you stand in silence over Lamlûg’s unmoving body. A quick sniff confirms he yet lives, though his breathing and heartbeat are dangerously faint. Exerting such intense, prolonged force on a wounded creature’s will is enough to push them to the brink of death and over it, it would seem. Another facet of your power discerned, then, and one to perhaps keep in mind when subjugating the wills of the enfeebled.

“Er, begging your pardon, milord,” comes a hesitant voice from behind you, and you turn to see Ishmoz standing very awkwardly, his mottled hands clasped together, “but is he dead?”

“He will live, but barely. A shame.” You humour him, tonguing a shred of deer haunch from between your teeth. “I should like to have heard more. Delirious orcs make for poor conversation.”

“Ah. Then, if I may…?” The orc motions at his broken taskmaster. Curious, you oblige him with a wave.

>>5923274
“Thank you, milord, thank you,” he says as he goes, his unctuous manner belied by the overly wide berth he gives you. He bends down at Lamlûg’s side and draws from his clothes a short and shabby knife, lustreless and wrapped with an unknown beast’s hide for a hilt. However, you are surprised when he does not slit the larger orc’s throat, but rather cuts something loose from his belt, and comes away with a small hide flask. Like all other thing of orc make it is not nearly as fine as the artisanal counterparts in your mother’s hoard, but the shape is unmistakeable.

“And what might that be?”

Ishmoz, startled, turns like a thief caught with treasure. “Er, a strengthening draught, milord. It gives renewed vigour to whoever drinks it. We of the Grey Mountains make our own for lifting heavy burdens and going long distances, but rumour has it that those brewed in Gundabad are all the more potent.” He makes a vulgar noise as he tests the skin’s weight. “Feh, the greedy sot. We were to use it for dragging whatever we killed back with us, but Lamlûg hoarded it for himself. He decided that threatening beatings would be fuel enough.”

The orc manages to twist the stopper out of the flask’s neck, and your nose is met with a thick, pungent aroma the likes of which you have never smelled before. Ishmoz himself seems to briefly forget the dragon standing across from him as he puts the flask to his nose and inhales deeply, grunting in satisfaction.

“I see,” you hum. An interesting concoction. You furrow your brows. “Do you know aught of this Bolg?”

Ishmoz ponders a moment. “Only what I’ve heard of others, milord, that he’s the leader of Gundabad, or one of them. He’s near as tall as a man, they say, and as strong. They say he’s the son of the old chieftain of Moria, back before he lost his head. I suppose he must have gone north up the Misty Mountains after that and taken Gundabad as his seat. As for why he sent his orcs here… I can’t rightly say. Expanding his domain, most probably, same as any other overly ambitious git sticking his nose where it isn’t welcome. Erm, milord.”

>>5923276
As Ishmoz secures the stopper again, you think on the situation. This Bolg seems to be a manner of lord or king among orcs, at least those of Gundabad. Will he play the role of a rival for control of the Ered Mithrin, or fall in line like the other orcs? Given the ferocity of his underlings, you have your doubts. Whatever the case, such a concern seems far off when Gajakt is so much closer, and his plan to massacre the men and dwarves of the Mannish Vale is a threat to your own ambitions. But how to go about undoing it? The night is young, and there is yet time.

>Have Ishmoz act as your spy. Unlike the burly, armoured orcs from the west, he seems willing to play the part of the cloying toady in exchange for keeping his skin, whether to the orcs of Gundabad or yourself. No doubt his fellow tribesmen are just as easily cowed. If you present yourself as the fairer option, then they might follow you rather than Gajakt and sow discord under his nose.

>Have Ishmoz lead you to Gajakt, and confront him and his orcs openly. The Gundabad orcs might not yield as easily as the native tribes, but they might yet prove useful tools. Whether by persuasion, intimidation or trickery, you are certain that you can find some way to turn them to your devices.

>Give what little orc-draught remains to Kâka, the unconscious snuffler. You would hear what he has to say, and he might submit to you as Ishmoz did.

>Give what little orc-draught remains to Lamlûg. He holds no love for you, but perhaps the draught will restore him enough to be useful.

>Write in

I’m truly sorry for the wait, this update kicked my fucking ass. Dialogue is my weakest point and I couldn’t find the characters’ voices as easily as I found the mountain men’s, which was still hard. I edited and rewrote a bunch of stuff.

It’s officially the year of the dragon now, so that’s nice.

>>5923277
>Have Ishmoz act as your spy. Unlike the burly, armoured orcs from the west, he seems willing to play the part of the cloying toady in exchange for keeping his skin, whether to the orcs of Gundabad or yourself. No doubt his fellow tribesmen are just as easily cowed. If you present yourself as the fairer option, then they might follow you rather than Gajakt and sow discord under his nose.
>Break the wills of lesser creatures for Ishmoz to hunt, so that he can return to his tribe with a plentiful bounty that appears to have been killed with 'skill'.
Gain renown in your group, Ishmoz. Learn more of their plans, and sow the seeds of my glory among the orcs.

>>5923277
>>Have Ishmoz act as your spy. Unlike the burly, armoured orcs from the west, he seems willing to play the part of the cloying toady in exchange for keeping his skin, whether to the orcs of Gundabad or yourself. No doubt his fellow tribesmen are just as easily cowed. If you present yourself as the fairer option, then they might follow you rather than Gajakt and sow discord under his nose.
>>Give what little orc-draught remains to Kâka, the unconscious snuffler. You would hear what he has to say, and he might submit to you as Ishmoz did.

>>5923316

Supporting, we want two separate agents here.

I’m still of the opinion that we could organize a pitched battle between orcs vs men/dwarves and then ensure that the orcs lose catastrophically - the men and dwarves can pay us with loot.

Alternately if the orcs are in much stronger position than we think, we can instead dominate Gajakt and then conduct terror raids on the men of the vale to weaken their resolve, etc

>>5923278

No worries, QM - this quest is consistently very high quality despite any personal reservations you may have. I will wait patiently for your updates!

>Have Ishmoz act as your spy. Unlike the burly, armoured orcs from the west, he seems willing to play the part of the cloying toady in exchange for keeping his skin, whether to the orcs of Gundabad or yourself. No doubt his fellow tribesmen are just as easily cowed. If you present yourself as the fairer option, then they might follow you rather than Gajakt and sow discord under his nose.

Better this way so we know what’s what, and now we now Bolg son of Azog lives in Gundabad, fascinating.

>>5923277
>>5923316
Seconded. They would also provide us information on any other orc activities happening further west.

>>5923278
No worries, everyone has stuff going on. You write very compelling material well worth the wait.

>>5923277
>>Have Ishmoz act as your spy. Unlike the burly, armoured orcs from the west, he seems willing to play the part of the cloying toady in exchange for keeping his skin, whether to the orcs of Gundabad or yourself. No doubt his fellow tribesmen are just as easily cowed. If you present yourself as the fairer option, then they might follow you rather than Gajakt and sow discord under his nose.
>>Give what little orc-draught remains to Kâka, the unconscious snuffler. You would hear what he has to say, and he might submit to you as Ishmoz did.

VERY IMPORTANT
Ensure they fully submit before leaving. And well we might want a place for them to tell us stuff if they act has our spies.
Also get to know more about orcs and the region (orcs : weapons they use, armors, how they fight, what they eat etc... mundane knowledge but could be of help)

>>5923278
Thanks man.

>Supporting this >>5923296

You’re going to make Ishmoz your inside man (orc?) and have him report to you on the comings and goings of the other orcs. You’re also going to give Kâka a needed pick-me-up and enlist him as well. Writing.

>>5923326
>>5923371
>>5923384
I appreciate the understanding.

>>5924389
Np

>>5923274
>The orc’s lipless mouth twists. “He is the highest authority… in all Gundabad, and… its rightful lord, who claims it by… by right of wits and strength… and blood. He sent Chief Gajakt east with his best soldiers… to anchor his rule in the Grey Mountains. The cave… is important.”
>“To what end? Tell me.” You urge him on. Disjointed and sparse his words may be, but you are unwilling to let such a font of information slip from between your claws just yet.
>“Purge… the dwarves and the man-filth,” he says, licking at the blood flowing from his lips before coughing up more. “Claim their land and their lives… and grow his power… to take… his seat…”

Hnh. Interesting. I got some thoughts on this mine.
Ishmoz claims it to be an abandoned gold mine, but why would Orcs go to such lengths for it? Gold is gold, to be sure, but I can't imagine orcs needing it for trading.
Then there's the bit about 'urging the dwarves and men'. Unless Bolg means to hire mercenaries to fight under him, gold won't be much use to him in purging the Valley.
My bet is that the mine contains a side entrance into a dwarf-hold that Bold wants to use so he can enter the Valley from and blindside the dwarves and men. No idea how Bolg would know about something like that though, if it exists.

>>5929635

Well, the secret passage idea is probably correct, but the orcs could have found out through any number of means. Excavation of tunnels in the area, capturing prisoners who might know about it, etc. etc.

yo

>>5924389
Rip QM