The fort stood damaged but intact, smoke billowing into the sky from the buildings set ablaze by the orc assault. The fires had finally been quenched, and amidst the chaos, Garrok's mind raced, consumed by the fate of his captured friend, Engineer Gearlocke.
As he stared at the remains of the SPAL bow, Garrok's blood ran cold, and his heart began to beat rapidly. Tink, his first friend, had been taken. The thought of her fate filled him with dread. If she was fortunate, she would be enslaved by the orcs and adopted into their clan, similar to Garrok's mother. However, if she were sold to the goblins, her future would be even bleaker.
Rage boiled within Garrok, surpassing even the anger he had felt when bandits had raided his clan and killed his mother. Just as he was about to explode, a cool calmness washed over him, focusing his thoughts. He stood up abruptly, surprising the captain and the gnome, and made his way towards his wagon.
"Garrok, where are you going?" the captain asked, concern etched on his face.
"My wagon," Garrok replied calmly.
Approaching his wagon, Garrok noticed the bodies surrounding it—his dire wolves had been busy. Whistling for his wolves, they trotted towards him, their fur stained with blood. Upon closer inspection, he realized that none of the blood belonged to them.
"I'll have to give them a thorough scrubbing when we get back," Garrok remarked, aware of the need to clean his loyal companions.
Rummaging through his wagon, Garrok retrieved a pair of well-made saddles. The wolves whined, sensing their long-overdue reunion with the saddles.
"I know, it's been a while, you two. But this is an emergency," he said, acknowledging their anticipation. After some struggle, he managed to saddle them both.
Refilling his cartridge pouches and stocking the saddlebags with provisions and medical supplies, Garrok prepared for the mission ahead. The captain interrupted his preparations, standing before him with a skeptical expression.
"And what do you think you are doing there?" the captain inquired.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Garrok grunted in response.
The captain's amusement faded, replaced by a serious tone. "This seems like a foolhardy plan, Garrok. You shouldn't go alone. Give me some time, and I can gather a posse to accompany you."
"I appreciate the offer, captain," Garrok replied, his determination unwavering. "But if I go after them with a posse, they'll know they're being tracked. With just me and my wolves, I can follow them to their camp without being detected." He knew that his wolves' scent would help conceal his own.
Narrowing his eyes, the captain reluctantly conceded, "I cannot stop you, lad, but it's still a foolish risk. I'll do my best to send help your way when I can."
Mounting Fang, Garrok looked towards the direction the orcs had retreated. "SEEK!" he commanded, and the wolves dashed off, following the trail left behind by the orcs. The captain watched on, sighing with exhaustion, aware that the night would be long and uncertain.
They spent hours chasing the orcs through the night, the wolves diligently following their scent. Worry for his friend consumed Garrok's heart. He knew that if the goblins got their hands on Tink, she would be left begging for death. The barely restrained rage within him threatened to boil over, but he channeled it into fuel for his calm focus.
Shortly after midnight, the orc war camp came into view. Garrok dismounted and approached the camp cautiously, accompanied by his wolves. As he drew closer, he observed the layout of the camp—a collection of yurts and tents, surrounded by a rudimentary wall made of dried bushes. Several orc and goblin sentries stood guard while the rest of the camp slept.
"The camp seems hastily set up," Garrok observed. "The wall appears thin in some places. Perhaps I can cut my way in." He continued scanning the camp until his eyes fell upon a lone yurt, isolated from the others. It was the only yurt with a guard inside. "That's likely where they're keeping the prisoners or loot," Garrok concluded.
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Carefully maneuvering through a thin patch of dried bushes near the guarded yurt, Garrok slashed and chopped, minimizing the noise. Just as he was about to breach the bushes, an audible growl emerged from nearby. He noticed the outline of an orc guard accompanied by a dire wolf approaching.
It had been some time since Garrok had heard his native tongue, but he could still understand it.
"Who goes there?" the guard challenged. Thinking quickly, Garrok spanked Nyx on the rump, eliciting a yelp.
"Apologies, friend. This bitch is in heat, and she's causing the other wolves to chase her while everyone is trying to sleep. You know how it is," Garrok replied in Orcish, attempting to sound annoyed.
"What's happening there?" demanded another guard, hidden from sight but likely nearby.
"Just a bitch in heat causing trouble with the wolves. Go back to bed we'll handle it," the Guard responds.
As the silhouette of the guard approached, Garrok moved swiftly, slashing the guard's throat with his hatchet while Fang lunged for the wolf's throat. The growls subsided as the wolf succumbed to its injuries.
"Get that bitch away! We're trying to sleep here!" a guard yelled.
At least the noise was concealed by their deception. Garrok searched the fallen guard, retrieving a coin purse and knife, leaving the sword behind to avoid drawing attention. He dragged the bodies to the camp's perimeter, covering them with dried bushes in hopes of concealing them until morning.
Having infiltrated the camp, Garrok and his wolves made their way stealthily towards the guarded yurt, evading fires and sentries. As they approached, the sounds of yelling echoed from within.
"You will tell me how many are coming!" a cry of pain rang out as the sound of flesh being struck filled the air. Anger surged within Garrok as he pulled out his knife. He signaled Nyx to distract the guard while he stealthily approached, swiftly cutting the guard's throat.
Entering the yurt, Garrok discovered crates of goods and treasure. It was evidently the loot storage yurt. In the middle, tied to a post, was Tink. Her clothes were disheveled and torn, bruises marring her face, and a black eye evidence of the torment she had endured. Before her stood a goblin interrogator, taunting her.
"Well, I guess it matters not that you refuse to speak. You'll still fetch a good price among the nobles back home," the goblin taunted. Not bothering with subtlety Garrok stomped towards the Golin, who was unaware of the imminent danger.
Thinking it was the guard returning, the goblin didn't bother turning around. "I'm almost done here. Come back later," he snarled in heavily accented Orcish. Without hesitation, Garrok grabbed the goblin by the mouth and slit his throat.
"Garrok!" Tink moaned weakly. "You came for me."
"Shh, save your strength," Garrok said gently as he cut her bonds and helped her down. He searched the goblin's body and found Tink's pistol and stiletto.
"They saw the fort's expansion and wanted to know how many were coming, but I didn't say anything," Tink whispered, trembling.
Garrok handed her weapons back and supported her as she stood. "We need to leave," he said, handing her a few cartridges.
Together, they exited the yurt and mounted Nyx and Fang. Without concern for stealth, they rode through the opening Garrok had made, the sound of their departure drowned out by the growing commotion in the camp. As they distanced themselves from the camp, Garrok could hear the alarm being raised.
"It seems they've found the bodies," Garrok remarked grimly.
They rode throughout the night, pausing only when their wolves grew exhausted. But the pursuing orcs were relentless, closing in on them. Garrok drew his gun and fired at their pursuers, with Tink doing the same with her pistol. Using her stiletto as a ramrod, she reloaded her pistol swiftly. They managed to hit several orcs, causing them to fall from their mounts, but the relentless pursuit continued as Fang and Nyx grew tired from their night-long run.
Just as the pursuing orcs were about to catch up, a loud commotion erupted ahead. As the sun began to rise, a group of mounted humans wearing coats and feathered caps charged towards them, swinging sabers.
"URAAH!!!" they yelled, passing Garrok and Tink and charging the orcs.
"It's the Hussars! They've arrived!" Garrok exclaimed, excitement in his voice.
"URAAH!!!" More horsemen arrived, this time wearing breastplates and helmets, brandishing pistols.
"BANG! BANG! BANG!" Gunshots rang through the air.
"Reiters! Fill them with lead men!" Garrok cheers.
The orcs retreated, and the humans pursued relentlessly.
"Master Smith!" Several dwarves mounted on ponies galloped towards them.
"We're so glad you're safe," one of them said, glancing at Tink.
"And you've succeeded in the rescue. Come, we'll escort you back to the fort," another dwarf added.
Exhausted yet relieved, Garrok and Tink made their way back to the fort, welcomed by cheers. Dwarves, and gnomes were tossing and swinging their hats, while humans were raising their sabers and pistols in salute, the crowd cheered and celebrated their return. They rode towards the Citadel, where the captain stood, awaiting their arrival. Garrok dismounted and faced the captain.
"Well, lad, it seems you've succeeded in your fool's errand," the captain said, looking at Tink being helped down by several dwarves.
"That we have, Captain," Garrok replied simply, his exhaustion overwhelming him as he promptly passes out.
The story of this daring rescue would be romanticized and retold for years to come.