Tyre’Negoth:The Pagan

As the stars began to fade from the evening sky,

Had hundreds not arrived to set eyes upon the warriors,

The horde that devoured meat and ale would have shocked

Man from every walk of life, yet only now did they see

The massive warrior sent by the farthest land, Venely.

Baelorik’s mug fell from his lips with empty thud,

As many other’s followed while whispers filtered through.

Baelorik’s voice rang out then, drying up all tongues:

“Indeed my eyes have not failed me before, thus it’s true

That the warrior horde sent by Venely are barbarians!

Long have I called the magnificent Prince Jiamunda ally,

Thus I shall have faith that no mockery is meant by this!

We have had our share of odd guests this dark night,

Thus let us add another to our list, speak now warrior.

Feel no malice from us, for I, too, am barbarian blood,

None shall touch you with anger or evil intent, I swear!”

All eyes turned with orchestrated motion towards the pack

Whose leader rose with deliberate slowness.

His head was massive as a bear’s but scale to body,

His arms were trunks, his fists as hard as maul-heads,

Muscles hulked out of his body and legs as he stood.

Bear fur cloth covered him tightly, with yellowed bone

Carapace shielding his trunk and shoulders from harm,

Gauntlets of tempered steel, taken from some fallen foe,

Covered his massive hands and steel boots were worn, too.

Chain mail leggings specially crafted, sheathed his legs,

He wore no helm nor animal head, rather his bald head

Was revealed though none would poke fun for fear of harm.

A red scar cut above and below his right eye,

Yet untouched were his brown and wild eyes that sparkled.

A sword of unimaginable mass, wrapped tight in leather,

Hung on his back, its handle made of carved boar tusk,

While jagged bone dagger hung in his leather belt,

And finely crafted bone axes lay before him on the table.

“My name is Or’ Ibnar, though my foes in Venely call

Me Boneshredder for my ferocity and merciless nature.

Long have the hordes that skirt this kingdom been slain,

But our tribe remains a thorn to the Prince,

Armies have sought our end yet we stubbornly endure,

Many have we lost, few by far to Venely’s slaughtered,

Yet we, too, feel the sorrow of lives plucked so early.

Thus, when Ambassadors came offering peace in exchange

For aid in a single, simple task such as this,

My tribe accepted without delay and several warriors

Led by me have travelled to aid in return for peace.”

Baelorik smiled, happy to lay eyes upon his lost brothers

Who he left so long ago to rule over the cursed lands.

“Brother, if you are kind enough to let me call you such,

I welcome you to this great hall, but before you sit,

Introduce us all to your three fellows whose presence

Seem so much greater than what our fickle mind perceives!

Tell us, too, of how you speak so well a foreign tongue?”

Boneshredder, as he shall be called, answered readily:

“The honor is ours to call you brother, this is true,

As of language, as you rose to power in civil land

While born of barbarian blood, a civil man came to us,

Searching for refuge, he taught us Venelian for trading

Yet Venely quickly went to war so it has served little.

As for my allies who accompany me on this great task,

I shall use the names that Venely has laid upon them,

For ease, but more for each name describes their skill.”

Boneshredder laid his burly hand upon his closest ally,

The warrior had long red hair with several braids apart

From the mass of hair that flowed down to mid-back.

The man had red beard and devil-red eyes that burned,

His skin was tan from travelling in the summer sun,

And his armor was a complex set of scaled lizard plates

Taken from one of the many minor dragons who roamed.

Two curved blades criss-crossed his back, made of steel.

His gauntlets were silver with knuckle blades on each.

“This warrior served as judge and jury of our tribe,

No traitor ‘scaped nor found refuge from our justice,

Those who fled were scalped as is our “pagan” custom.

Thus, as most Venelian warriors are simple in mind,

He was named for this exact task: Scalphunter his name.”

Boneshredder moved on to his second comrade-in-arms,

He was portly and short with a long, shaggy brown beard,

He wore a golden helm with bull horns coming out,

A gold nose piece dividing his two small blue eyes.

The warrior had a gold frontal plate with one for belly,

The rest decked out in brown deerskin with rawhide boots.

He wore rawhide gloves as well and shoulder guards, too.

Sitting on the floor were two double axes made of stone.

“This comrade accompanied the civil man when he came,

Yet never forsook his civil name nor had any need.

Gar Ivenhart is my comrade’s name, a well-known smith

To those who are old enough to remember so long before.”

All eyes moved to the final warrior and some let out

A gasp of terror as their eyes befell what sat apart

From even the horde that brought him to the banquet hall.

Baelorik, too, felt his spine grow cold at his sight.

Ice blue eyes stared deep into every man’s soul,

As they scanned the banquet hall, staring back at all.

Black hair trailed down in a complex braid down midback,

Black goatee covering his pale, thoroughly scarred face.

Adorned in thick, white, wolf fur cloak, vest, and pants,

Leather boots but no gloves to conceal his wretched hands

Covered in a tapestry of scars and tattoos.

Two short and incredibly jagged blades made of bone

Sat snuggly tucked into the man’s black leather belt.

“In one of many battles,” Boneshredder began solemnly,

“Venely slaughtered an entire neighboring village save

This wretched soul who dreams of nothing but blood,

No words has he ever uttered since the day all was lost,

Many times before I rose to power, he was beaten

By those who had enemies within the extinct tribe,

Thus his scarred body and sad, lost eyes that see nought,

No, he sees another world altogether, though fear not!

He serves me loyally for I be his one true friend!

A lucky Venelian who survived him gave the name Spineflay

To my ally who sits beside me now. I have no more to say”

Thus Boneshredder, in the silence, retook his seat,

The eighth warrior named, Baelorik’s party was complet