Getting to the main road with the cart wasn’t the easiest process. The area was hilly with not much of a road, so keeping control of the cart often involved going slow with Rothoor walking next to the cart and keeping it stable with his incredibly muscular arms. Despite the bumpy ride, Orlmor was sound asleep. She looked peaceful and harmless. In some ways it was an illusion. She may not be the most powerful shaman in their area, but he knew that she hadn’t lived a conflict free life in any way. These days she may restrict herself to charming food and magically lighting the fireplace, but that was in no way the extent of her abilities. She hadn’t wished to turn back to those ways however, and Rothoor did all he could to make sure she would never have to.
They’d reached the gates of Soloth by now, and once again Rothoor was waved through, and they headed towards the main road out of town. The road to Relheem. The day was pleasant and sunny now, and Rothoor enjoyed the feeling of the warmth on his exposed skin as he sat at the front of the cart. This stretch of the road was a flat and rather clear segment where very few large faunae dotted the land. It stretched on like this up to a faraway tree line at the horizon. It was around lunch time now judging by the position of the sun and Orlmor had awoken not long ago, so Rothoor thought it was best if they ate now. He took out a massive piece of bread and split it between the two of them, handing the larger piece to her. After eating for a few seconds, Orlmor spoke up.
“Do you really think the children will keep the garden and crops intact?”
“We’ve done our best to teach them their responsibilities for years, but I understand what you’re saying. I keep worrying Mord will suffer some sort of hunting accident while we’re away. But we needed to do this. You’re too precious to risk.” Rothoor responded. She gave a slightly pained smile.
By the time it was getting to the evening, Rothoor stopped the cart, and they made ready to set up camp for the night. It would have been nice to have some help setting it all up, but Rothoor felt no ill will towards his wife for it. She was in no such state. But that didn’t stop her from offering to help more than once. He knew she didn’t like to feel like a burden on anyone. Some darker clouds were starting to role in now, so Rothoor helped Orlmor get into the tent they had set up and they both settled under the covers. Rothoor looked through a small gap in the now closed opening to the tent and watched the sky. After a few minutes thunder began rolling in, and bright red flashes began lighting up the sky. To anyone not from their region, such an effect would be either breathtaking or horrifying. While it still had a sense of majesty to it, Rothoor had mostly grown used to it from living in this region as long as he had. Nobody knew exactly what caused it, however. The most common theory was that during the collapse of human rule in the region, a great battle was fought involving powerful magic. By the time it was over, the effects of the devastating spells left a permanent mark on the area, cursing its very skies.
He didn’t know if it was true or not, and life had taught him that the truth of things like this often became distorted. He broke his gaze from the clouds to look at his wife at his side. Despite the roaring thunder, she was staying asleep. It didn’t look like a pleasant sleep however, as her breath was quick and shallow. It pained him that he could do nothing for her right now, but trying to help her in any way right now would just mean disturbing her rest for no gain but to feel like he was useful. He went back to looking out of the tent.
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Rothoor didn’t get much sleep, though he never required much in the first place. He would much rather use his time for listening for approaching danger anyway. It was early in the morning now and the sun was only just beginning to peak over the horizon. A light fog filled the air around him as he sat on a surprisingly smooth stone near the campsite. Once Orlmor wakes, they would have a light breakfast, then get back on the road. This is where things started to get a little more difficult, however.
Up ahead was where the forest was, and where the contested Elvish lands began. At the very least they would encounter a single patrol going through there, and while both Elvish nations here didn’t have a mass amount of intolerance towards Orks, when put in war people got a lot more suspicious of others, and for good reason, he supposed. Regardless, there was no other way to Relheem, so onward they must go. Orlmor was visibly stirring from sleep now, so Rothoor started preparing that light breakfast.
Rothoor was glad to be back on the road, even if the threat of Elves lied ahead. At least on the road he knew he was getting ever closer to fixing this foul circumstance they had all been put in. Despite only waking up not long ago, Orlmor looked like she was already going to fall asleep again, her eyelids laying half shut as she blankly stared down the road. Rothoor’s attention was swiftly drawn back to the road as he heard some rustling in the bushes near the path ahead. Hanrari gave a snort as Rothoor brought the cart to a halt. While keeping both eyes still steadily trained on the bushes, Rothoor reached behind him, his hands finding his crossbow equipment. He brought the equipment to rest on his lap as he carefully loaded a bolt, taking care to try and not look away from the bushes if he had to. Orlmor had very likely realised something was going on, but she knew not to ask yet if Rothoor was yet to speak up. There was still no movement or sound from the bush, and now that Rothoor had finished loading a bolt, he brought his axe up with him too, then slowly climbed down from the carriage and began approaching the bushes.
The road crunched under his feet as he crept ever further to his target. When he was only a meter away, he readied his axe in his right hand, and reached out with his left to part the green leaves from his path. When he got close enough, he found the source of the trouble. An Elf dressed in the garb of Nahani Elven warriors lay twitching on the ground in the bush. Blood poured from an arrow wound through the front of his chest. The man must have only just died based on the twitching still present in his limbs. A bloody trail led from where he died up a short hill. Rothoor gave a look towards the carriage to make sure Orlmor was still safe, then carefully began stalking up the hill. He looked over, and less than half a kilometre away, an encampment of Nahani Elves lay ransacked, with the dead strewn about in various states of disembowelment and dismemberment.
Upon seeing the wretched sight, Rothoor went back down the hill and ran back to the cart. Orlmor looked at him in shock. “What was it?” she asked. “Dead Nahanis, a whole camp. We have to leave quickly in case we are implicated.” Rothoor responded as he pulled himself into the carriage, quickly shoving the weapons he had taken back in the cart and getting Hanrari to start pulling the cart at a much quicker pace then she was used to. Orlmor’s face screamed worry at him, and he regretted that he couldn’t do anything but try and get them all as far away as possible.