“And so, we make money!” Elaine’s exclamation echoed, nearly deafening James. He resisted the urge to rub his ear in pain. Currently, the clan leader was at the harbor, watching as the bard made her proposition. He felt the need to cringe at the entire presentation, which had taken a solid hour out of his day.
“Plays?” James asked once more. “You want to do plays about me?”
“Yes! Plays about your story, your fights, and your otherworldly past!”
“Otherworldly? Who told you that?” James was genuinely surprised that this bard knew about his situation.
The young woman chuckled nervously. “I uh… Might have been eavesdropping…” Elaine embarrassingly revealed.
“Oh god.” James placed his hands over his face. It was already enough that Yorktown knew about it. Now that a bard knew about it, James might as well scream his Earth connection to all of Vindis.
“Well, what do you think of my proposition?” Elaine managed a mutter.
James sighed, his hands dropping to his lap. “I don’t think I have a choice, do I? Otherwise, you’re just going to go off to Vindis to spill everything about me.”
“I won’t do that! Well… I don’t think I will…” The bard fiddled with her braid.
James took a frustrated breath. “Either way, there’s not much reason for me to say no. Even if people take you seriously, there’s not much more danger you can pin on me,” he admitted.
“Really?”
“Really. Lumen Knights, rival clans, bloodthirsty orcs, and abominations beyond my comprehension, I have enough after me. Doesn’t make a difference if they find out where I’m from.” He shrugged.
“That’s… That’s a concerning amount of enemies.” Elaine sat down across from James, her expression that of amazement. “Tell me your story now! I have to know how this all happened!”
The blond man sighed as he scratched his beard. As he pondered on his past, his eye caught a crew nearby, their hands carrying barrels and crates.
“Later. Right now, I have to set up for the next venture.” James stood up.
“Next venture?”
“Orc recruitment,” James answered simply as he headed off to help Dimitri and the crew as they loaded up on supplies. The ship they were stocking was none other than Draugr’s Haunt, which looked ready for another journey. He was starting to like the longship, despite the uncomfortable name it bore. Frostbite was always going to be his first vessel, but it was too slow to be useful outside of combat and trading capacity.
As James picked up a crate, he noted Falrick was standing nearby, staring intently at the hull of Frostbite. The Wizard looked to be intrigued with the runic symbols on the side of the ship, going so far as to lean closer to get a better look.
“Something wrong with the paintwork?” James called out as he passed the crate to Liam.
“Where did you get this ship?” Falrick asked, his finger pointed at the hull.
“Well, it was given to me. A while back, actually,” James answered.
“Who gave it?” The Wizard prodded.
“You won’t believe me if I tell you,” James grunted as he passed another barrel to the crew.
“Try me.” Falrick prompted.
The clan leader sighed and stopped his work. “Deimos.”
“The Red Death? He left you this?” The Wizard did a double take at the brig.
“When the marauders first came here, we kicked their ass,” James started. “I guess that impressed Deimos, and he left the ship for me. Said that every hero deserves a reward at the end of their quest.”
“That is quite something,” Falrick muttered as he turned back to the ship. “Do you mind if I examine this vessel?” He asked.
“As long as you don’t sail off with it, sure,” James joked as he struggled to drag a barrel to the longship nearby.
Despite the Wizard’s infatuation with the brig, James prioritized helping the crew. “How long are we going to be out there?” He asked as he handed Dimitri a crate of rations.
“Possibly a few days, at least. Week at most,” the shipmaster revealed. “It’s a far-off island, closer to the abyssal sea than Valenfrost.”
“Where’s Silas?” James questioned.
“The orc? He’s currently gathering a few of his own. Said that it’ll make the orc tribe much more comfortable doing business.”
‘I hope Silas is right about them. The last thing I need is a tribe of orcs just like the ones back in Aldren.’
James remembered what he saw back on that cursed day. He couldn’t forget the bodies on those pikes, the images coming back to him every once in a while. While Silas and his own group were nothing like Blood-Irk’s tribe, it still bothered him they had once been allied.
‘Let’s look at the brighter side. They’re under your control now. I’m also sure they’re too terrified of your Draugr persona to actually disobey you,’ Faust pointed out.
James furrowed his brow. ‘You’re right, but… Do those other orcs know that?’ The realization unnerved him. James could keep Silas and his rabble under control through their fear of his abilities. The foreign orcs, on the other hand, knew nothing of it and haven’t even seen nor heard of ‘Draugr’.
‘What are you planning?’ Faust asked.
‘Not sure, but I don’t think simple diplomacy is going to work with these orcs.’
Silas was the only exception to that. The rest, not so much.
James was going to have to come up with something to make sure these new orcs didn’t deviate towards Blood-Irk’s example.
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Gustus sat nervously in the lone tent, his hands clutching onto the folds of his breeches. It was nerve racking, sitting in Deimos’ quarters, awaiting the chieftain and his right hand. It had all started when Ivana had come asking about a draugr, one that roamed the south. Gustus had raised his hand without even thinking, which in turn caused the marauder woman to pick him over his fellow men. He silently chastised himself for outing himself so early. Gustus was sure there were others in that brig who remember that damned man.
‘It’s fine. Just tell them what you know and move on…’
Gustus tried to calm himself, to make sure that he was coherent enough to hold an actual conversation. Yet, there was that nagging feeling that it was not so simple. Deimos had a reason for this. No man would ask about some vague myth if he didn’t have intentions. The marauder hoped that anything he said would not piss off the chieftain. Gods knows what will happen if he said something unfavorable.
As Gustus internally panicked, the tent flap opened up. The marauder jumped a little, but kept himself composed. Deimos and Ivana entered the tent, their gazes moving to the lone man. Gustus could feel the disdain from Deimos’ stare. He had to force himself not to break his posture. Doing so would mean weakness.
“I know you,” The Red Death slowly spoke, his eyebrow raised as he recognized the former bandit.
“You do, my lord?” Gustus managed out.
“Yes,” Deimos snapped his fingers. “You’re Lars’ handler, no?”
“I am simply his guide, sir,” Gustus explained. “I was his former cellmate, so I’m the only one who knows him…”
“Yet he tried to kill you during the orientation,” Deimos pointed out.
Gustus managed a weak chuckle. “Lars is a bloodthirsty man by nature. Just because I know him doesn’t mean I’m exempt from his rampages.”
That made Deimos smile. “Good to know that he doesn’t discriminate.” The chieftain pulled a nearby crate to himself. Using it as a seat, the Red Death sat across from the ex-convict. “Ivana tells me that you know of the Draugr. Can you tell me how?”
“He is the reason I’m here, my lord,” Gustus revealed.
“Really?” Deimos tilted his head.
“Yes. I was part of a bandit crew around the south. We raided ships that were en route to Vindis,” Gustus told his story to the chieftain, quickly explaining his situation from before. “It happened during the New Year Transition. We were raiding a ship that was coming from Vindis. Before we knew it, however… He came.”
“The Draugr?”
“He came from a long ship, nothing like the ones I saw before,” Gustus muttered. “It had black sails depicting a white raven and had orcs on its deck. It rammed in between both ships. Before we knew it, they were attacking us.” The marauder’s story had Deimos infatuated. The chieftain was at the edge of his seat, listening to every word carefully.
“The orcs were already a problem, same as some of his allies. If it was just them, we might’ve been able to fend them off and get away.” Gustus took a breath. “If it was just them. Before we could react, he made his appearance known.”
“The Draugr, what did he look like?” Deimos asked.
“He had a helmet on, but I could still see his shaggy hair. It was blond. Looked unkempt. He had a beard as well, darker in color. His eyes…” The marauder shuddered. “They glowed like flames, their light enough to showcase what was underneath. Everyone stopped at that. Then and there, I realized the Draugr name was not a coincidence. He looked like one.” Gustus could still remember that night. He remembered everything about it, including the smell of berries and burnt wood. “Our leader challenged him to a fight. The rest of us watched.”
“How did the fight go?” Deimos pressed.
“I don’t think I could call it that,” Gustus answered. “Our leader might have been trained in sword fighting, but the Draugr was different.” His style is nothing I recognized. He was stumbling a little, like he was drunk, but every movement and strike was precise and accurate. It was strange. It was like watching someone on the edge of sleep, dropping and coming back up in a moment’s notice.” Gustus sighed as he recalled the night. It still bothered him how it went down. It was terrifying, seeing someone skilled lose to something so strange.
“In the end, our leader lost. We were taken to Vindis, and he turned us into the city watch. After that, I was sent to Bernis’ dungeons. You could guess where I ended up after everything.” The marauder finished his story, his gaze moving to the ground.
“Vindis, huh?” was all Deimos responded with. Gustus raised his head, catching the expression on the chieftain’s face. He had a growing smile on his face, his eyes focused on the roof of his tent.
Deimos stood up. “Set up Virtus’ Curse for a voyage,” He called to Ivana. The young woman furrowed her brow.
“To where?”
“To the south,” Deimos answered as he headed for the tent’s entrance. “Get Eli as well, we’ll be needing him and Gustus for this.”
“Why are we going to the south?”
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The Red Death chuckled as he opened the tent flap. “Just a scouting mission. Nothing serious, yet.”
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Salt water sprayed against the deck of the longship, making it harder for James to get a good grip. “Winds are getting stronger lately!” Dimitri shouted over. The shipmaster was busy tying knots and pulling the sails to their desired position.
“Will we be able to reach our destination in time?” James called back.
“With these winds? Either we’ll get there early or not at all!” The older man answered.
“Looks like Sommar is in full effect,” Liam commented behind James.
“Sommar?”
“Bloom’s sunnier sister,” the steerer followed up. “Windier than usual and with much more rain than last time.”
“Seriously?” James grimaced. The cold rain during Bloom was already enough to leave anyone with a nasty cold. Now that they were going to be increased, it only made the blond man even more nervous about going out.
‘Maybe I should invest in a hooded poncho, like the one Dahlia has…’
At least she looked warm. Not just that, but the cloak looked cooler than his standard wool cape and hood.
“When we come back, I’ll ask,” James muttered to himself.
“Alas, at least there’s the Midsommar festival to make up for the damned rain,” Dimitri commented.
“Midsommar?” James asked.
“You don’t know about the festival?” Elaine’s voice butted in from behind. The bard was currently sitting nearby, along with Malik who boredly stared out into the sea. The necromancer didn’t look to be interested in whatever they were speaking about.
“No, I don’t.” James turned to face the bard.
Elaine shook her head, laughing. “I guess that goes to show that you truly are an Outlander.” The bard sat up straight. “The Midsommar festival is a widely celebrated holiday across Azura, not just Valenfrost. It’s full of food, music, and dancing.”
“So, just the Bloom festival?”
“Not like the Bloom festival,” Dahlia called out from her side of the ship. The shaman chuckled. “While Midsommar is celebrated throughout Azura, Valenfrost celebrates it differently.”
Dahlia shifted in her seat, moving so that she was facing James. “Bloom is a celebration of the spirits who have lived before, namely lost loved ones and friends. Midsommar is slightly different. Midsommar is about moving on. It’s about life and its virtues. To let us focus on the life we still have.” James could hear how Dahlia’s voice turned wistful, her gaze moving to the waves of the choppy sea. “Bloom is about celebrating the past while Midsommar is about celebrating the future.”
James smiled a little. “To the future, then.”
That was enough to get the shaman to smile. “To the future, my Jarl.”
----------------------------------------
The island was in view, if it could be called that. It was more akin to a mini isle, bare of any life aside from the visible longships and tents. Not a tree was in sunlight, the only green thing being the sparse grass that covered most of the landmass.
“Is this the spot?” James asked.
“It is,” Silas answered. The orc handed the clan leader a spotting glass, still extended. James peered through the glass, focusing on the tents.
Sure enough, there were orcs. These looked much different from Blood-Irk’s rabble. They wore what looked like mercenary armor, which differed from leather, to gambeson, and even partial steel. Thankfully, they had no visible indicators of being man eaters. The bones that hung from their ships and tents looked foreign and nothing like a human’s. They reminded James of those enlarged fossils people found back on Earth, like the megalodon or dinosaur remnants.
“What bones are those?” he muttered to himself.
“Serpent and leviathan skulls,” Silas answered regardless. “They’re hunters, from the looks of it. I believe they enjoy killing and eating dangerous creatures.”
“A step up from humans,” James commented. “Are they expecting us?” The blond man added quickly as he collapsed the spotting glass.
“Orcs do their business abruptly. Trying to organize with them will show that you are not willing to allow them to run free.”
James frowned. “Well, I will not let them pillage and raid whenever they feel like it.”
“You can still hold them back. You just need it to look like it’s their idea,” Silas advised.
“Got it.” The clan leader sighed. “So, who’s coming?”
“It’ll be you, I, Goruk, and Fingers.”
“None of my other allies?”
“Again, orcs respect orcs. Bringing a human aside from you will only make it complicated.”
James nodded. “Alright then…” He looked at Dahlia, who sighed.
“It’s fine, James. We’ll be here if you need us.”
“Thanks.” James smiled. With that, the clan leader and the orc headed off to gather the landing crew.
It thankfully didn’t take long for them to make it to shore, since Draugr’s Haunt could safely make it to the shallows. James could only wonder what went through the foreign tribe’s heads as a human walked up to their encampment, followed by a group of orcs right behind him. It didn’t take long, since orcs were already dispatched with readied weapons and shields. The quickness of it all was enough to make James internally curse. He was even about to use his trump card before Silas raised a hand.
“We come in peace,” the orc called out. That seemed to halt their advance, their voices murmuring and clamoring.
“In peace?” One shouted.
“Yes, in peace. It is I, Silas! I talked to your leader months back, around the new year’s transition!”
“Silas?” Among the crude voices of the orcs came a much more dignified one. It was like Silas’, albeit without the noble tones and proper wording.
The line of orcs was broken up by a much bigger one. He was taller than Silas, his brawn much bigger and his skin much lighter. Yet he held himself better than his own orcs. This orc even looked less deformed, his skin lacking pockmarks and his underbite less pronounced.
“You’ve come back…” The orc raised an eyebrow. “With a human, no less.”
“Horuk, it is nice to see you again.” Silas grinned.
“Have you come back to consider our request?” The orc named Horuk asked.
“This is my leader, as requested. The Draugr of the South, James Holter,” Silas gestured to the clan leader, who was standing next to him. That was enough for all the orcs ahead to stare at James, who awkwardly stared back.
“This is your draugr?” Horuk asked.
Before Silas could answer, James stepped up. It wouldn’t look right if he allowed him to do all the talking.
“I am,” James stated. “I’m the Draugr you’ve all heard of.” More murmuring followed his words by the orcs, who all snickered and gave looks of amusement.
Even Horuk looked like he was holding back laughter. “I expected something scarier. Like the Red Death of the North or one of the gods’ chosen.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you all, but I’m nothing like those people,” James admitted. That caused even more laughter among the orcs.
“Silas, what did you bring me?” Horuk questioned. “I asked if you had a competent leader and you told us yes. Yet this man looks like fodder. I doubt he’s what you said.” Before Silas could speak, James raised a hand. He gave the orc a look, one that said: ‘Let me take care of this’. The orc nodded, stepping away from the conversation.
“What did Silas tell you?” James asked.
“He told me he was led by a man who was beyond comprehension. A man who fought off Blood-Irk’s tribe and won. One who killed Lumen Knights and survived the Red Death himself.” Horuk tilted his head. “You look nothing like that kind of man.”
“Really?” James scoffed.
“Really,” the orc huffed.
The clan leader nodded, his hand moving to his chin.
‘A simple show of power would be enough… Right?’
He thought about showcasing the eye trick, which had once been enough to make the orcs behind him follow his command.
‘No. That won’t work here,’ Faust commented. ‘Remember the Thieves Guild? Even when you used it, it wasn’t enough to make Markov instantly side with you. To show real power, you have to use it. Flashing your skull isn’t going to earn respect.’ The Centurion was right. James had to showcase his power in a fight.
However, there was the problem of what he was going to fight. To get the Thieves Guild on his side, James had to deal with a necromancer. To get his orc following, James had used his draining ability on some random greenskin. The clan leader looked at the orcs in front of him, their judgmental gazes fixed on him.
“I got it.” James raised a finger. “How about we duel for it?”
“Duel?” Horuk’s amused expression was washed away.
“You and me. You doubt my skills. Why don’t you test them?” James raised his arms in a challenge.
“James, I don’t think–” Silas’ warning was cut off by Horuk’s bolstering laugh.
“If you wish! I doubt you’ll be able to win.” The orc leader sounded amused.
“Then bet your tribe on it,” James replied. “I win, you all swear loyalty to me!” He gestured to all the orcs nearby.
Horuk laughed once more, this time with all of his tribe. “Sure. If I win, however, I will get your ship.” The orc pointed to Draugr’s Haunt, which had its crew visibly leaning over to get a better look.
James hesitated for a moment, but he forced himself to reply. “Deal.”
“James!” Silas exclaimed. “Are you sure you want to fight, Horuk?”
“I’m sure,” the clan leader answered as he stepped up to the shore. If he was going to earn any respect from them, this was the way to do it. Talking it out was not an option. The orcs around Horuk backed up as James approached, leaving both opponents alone on the gravel shore.
“No preparations?” Horuk asked as he reached for the war hammer that hung off his back.
“No, I don’t need any,” James answered as he pulled his short sword out.
‘Then again, it would’ve been nice to have my shield on me…’
It was already too late for that anyway. The damned thing was somewhere on the longship, long forgotten. Either way, shield or no shield, James had a tactic in his back pocket he had been itching to use since his time in Vindis.
The two combatants stared at each other for a solid half minute, their gazes locked on each other. James wondered how Dahlia was reacting to this from her view. She was probably yelling angrily, cursing his name in every way. He smiled at the thought. He was pretty stupid.
Horuk was the first to rush, the orc already mid-swing with his warhammer. James felt Faust’s reflexes kick in, the spirit’s hold now in control of his body. In a moment’s notice, the blond man was underneath the swing, his sword on course for the orc’s torso. The blade slashed green flesh, leaving a shallow cut on the torso. James snapped back into his body right after, his feet stumbling to keep balance. The orcs around went silent, their faces contorting in shock and surprise.
Horuk himself had a look of confusion. The orc looked down at his abdomen, where James left his cut. “A lucky hit,” he growled.
“You want to test that?” James asked with a grin. Horuk roared as he charged once more, his movements now faster than before. James clenched his left fist, focusing his reserves as he rushed ahead.
Without thinking about it, the blond man gave his control to Faust, allowing the Centurion to quickly dodge Horuk’s downward swing. Once the hammer flew by harmlessly, James was back in control. James raised his knee in the awkward position, aiming to hit the orc during his strike. Horuk was low enough for James to exploit his unprotected face. Success. While not enough to do serious damage, the knee was enough to make Horuk stumble back in a daze.
James raised his left hand, forming the proper rune. “Summon Ice!” The reserves in his body reacted to the words, their ley lines transferring power to his formed fingers. Ice formed around James’ hand, the frost ever changing. For only a few seconds, he could form the ice into whatever shape he wanted. Thankfully, he only needed one.
James shaped the ice into makeshift brass knuckles, identical to the ones he had seen in Earth movies and video games. Without wasting time, he punched Horuk in the face, shattering ice and impacting bone. His knuckles screamed with pain, but James pushed through. The orc fell back from the hit, his nose bleeding profusely. In the end, Horuk was on the ground, while James stood with bruised knuckles.
‘Christ, that hurts!’ James internally exclaimed in pain. While he was visibly calm, the young man was truthfully hurting from the pain.
‘You summoned the ice too soon. It had little time to harden before you punched him.’ Faust chastised.
James sighed as he turned to Silas.
‘Note taken.’
The new spell James was using was a courtesy of the tome Nathan had sold him back in Vindis. The book was an introduction to cryomancy, allowing James to practice and use ice spells.
The first and most basic one was summon ice, which allowed the clan leader to form ice into whatever shape he wanted. It was the same spell Gryff used to form his dagger. James was hoping to master it soon, but it looked like he had more to learn.
‘I’ll have more time back home—’
“James, watch out!”
Silas’ warning snapped the blond man back into the real world. Without waiting to see what the orc was shouting about, James dropped to the ground. It was the best decision he made. He watched as a warhammer swung over where his head used to be, hitting nothing but air. He could see the orc behind it, which turned out to be his own opponent.
While he avoided death, James felt far from relieved. Instead, he was fucking pissed. Without warning, James quickly sprang up from the ground, his left hand reaching for Horuk’s angered face.
The blond man grabbed the orc’s face, his arm and face burning hot as he looked into Horuk’s head. Images flashed in front of his eyes, showcasing the orc’s life. He saw the past hunts of the orc, watching as Horuk took trophies from serpents and massive leviathans. He watched as Horuk fought against Blood-Irk’s orcs, red armor signifying their loyalty. Images of other islands in the east flashed, showcasing barren isle and forested territories. People in black cloaks, an island home to a small village. Once James was finished with looking through, he stopped the drain.
James was now standing over Horuk, whose angry look was now that of fear and surprise. A handprint was seared into his green flesh, followed by remnants of ice and frost. James felt his eyes burned with magical power, the glow enough to reflect off of the orc’s irises. The Draugr stood up, his gaze moving to the orcs nearby.
They all backed up, their looks of amusement now replaced with fear and respect. James raised his left hand, which was covered in frost. He clenched it, shattering the ice. “You are all my followers. Any complaints?”