Part 2
Written by Soul Train of Nuln
The orcs plodded along the mountain pass with heavy, menacing steps. Their numbers were great, dozens of loosely organized groups of greenskins marched behind ragged banners made of animal hides and bones. The midday sun shone brightly above them, reflecting
poorly off the crude steel of their spears and axes. The sound was deafening. Their harsh, guttural grunts and clamor of their clanking armor echoed with their forceful footfalls to fill the pass with the sound of their trek, as though storm clouds raged within the confines of the mountain itself. One could scarcely hear the sound of the gentle brook that snaked its way through the center of the pass.
At the head of the column the greatest of the greenskins, clearly their war chief, clad in dark
brown bear fur and thick, rectangular armor plates, grimaced from beneath his tusked helm. He bristled with anger as he strode over the dull gray landscape, another head and a half taller than the thickly armored orcs that made up his bodyguard. None walked before him, save his banner bearer, holding a shaft twice as thick as a man’s arm, which bore the chieftain’s symbol painted in a bright blue dye: a shattered crag.
A slight distance above them, laying prone behind small patches of moss and shrubbery, a dozen men lay cloaked and silent. They watched for quite some time, neither word nor sound coming from any of them as the great host moved beneath them. Then, at a hand signal from their leader, they slowly began to inch away from the precipice and retreated from sight.
***
All around the encampment fires blazed. Men were starting fires both to cook and keep watch by, while behind them the orange rays of the sun silhouetted the city of Dotternbach. Captain Becker stood outside his command tent, the red and blue quartered eagle of his regiment gently waving in the evening breeze. Standing comfortably outside, bereft of his usual boiled leather and chain mail, he spoke with a firm, commanding tone that came from years of experience, something that belied his clean-cut appearance and freshly shaven face. He was consulting some of his closest aides when a young officer approached him, interrupting.
"Yes, Reiter, what is it?" Becker said with hardly hidden agitation at the young man standing at attention.
"Herr Becker, one of our scout groups has just returned, and they bring urgent word on orc movements."
"Excellent. Where are they now?"
"Tending to their wounded and gathering more supplies."
"Take me to them."
With a nod to the group of men he had just been speaking with, Captain Becker followed the young officer to the north east edge of their encampment. There, gathered around a small fire, noticeably apart from the Reiklanders, both in terms of space and dress, the Wissenlanders were gathered. Their dull brown tunics and deep green cloaks clashed against the bright reds and vibrant blues of the Altdorf livery. They sat in a small semicircle, talking amongst themselves when the two Reiklanders approached.
"Johann, it is good to see your men made it back safely," opened Captain Becker in a smooth, diplomatic tone.
"A testament to the skill of my men, Herr Becker," said Johann Schulman, his thick Wissenland accent grating against Becker's city-born ears. he rose from a low crouch to stand at his full height and, while not an imposing figure, his cold voice and determined stare, combined with his woodland garb, gave him a rather intimidating look.
Unsure of whether to take that as a reassurance given to Johann's men, or as a challenge to the quality of his own troops, Becker stifled a retort and continued in a business-like fashion, saying "What news do you bring from Gaubern pass?"
"News that is as confusing as it is dire, Herr Becker. We spent much of the first few days scouting adequate lookout positions and escape routes when we happened upon a vanguard of Goblins on wolf-back. We worried their hounds might catch our scent, so we ambushed them, and hid the bodies off the main path. We had thought their disappearance might arouse suspicion amongst the greenskins, but considering how much they were bickering when we took them unawares, the orcs' lack of concern was little surprise. The orc column which followed in their wake was loosely organized and, though you might think me mad, somewhat leisurely for their ilk. They seemed in no particular haste or harsh temperament, beyond their normal tenacity, of course. They seemed more a herd than a horde, if there is such a thing for greenskins. There numbers were too great for us to do more than observe, so we made haste through the smaller mountain passes back here. The route was much longer, but we made good use of our time. We managed to catch small groups of them, no more than a dozen or so, when they would stop to get water or empty their bowels, but when counted against so many...they were of no concern, surely. Their purpose is hard to determine, though they will likely take the most direct tributary from Kerton's stream and arrive here in Dotternbach within 2 days time."
Captain Becker bristled visibly during Johann's report, though how much of it was from the news he brought and how much was from the oppressive stench of the orc urine that the woodsmen covered themselves in to hide their scent, it was hard to say. He remained silent for much of the time, adding only an occasional "mmhm" or "I see". Then, when Johann had finished talking, Becker brought a hand to his chin, stroking in thought at some phantom beard. "This is all very interesting, Johann. You and your men have done an excellent job. I hope you can be just as successful tomorrow in your reconnaissance. May Sigmar protect you."
"Let us hope," replied Johann, turning back to his men.
As Captain Becker and the younger Reiklander left the Wissenlanders behind, Becker's mind raced with the implications of what he had been told. Reiter, struggling to match the pace of his commanding officer while retaining some air of authority about himself, remained quiet while Becker deliberated. Upon reaching his command tent, now illuminated only by the camp fires and the dull light of Mannsleib lazily hanging in the night sky, Becker finally broke his silence. "Reiter, go and fetch me a runner, Commander Ortolf von Brennenburg will want to hear of this at once. Also, have another sent to Dotternbach. Inform the master of the city watch of the greenskins' intentions and relay to him the urgency of the situation."
"Yes Herr Becker!" chimed the rigidly-standing Reiter, who then hurried off to carry out his orders.
Becker looked to the night sky, the stars as numerous as his ill-feelings about the coming days, and then entered his command tent.
