Not So Welcome Return
Cathan had agreed to help Nichtmar use the Azoth Gate to travel to Torranmar, also known as the Ogre Island. The Azoth Gate opened a red glowing tear allowing them to be there in seconds instead of days. They arrived on the beach. Nichtmar was surprised there were no Mar tribe fishing, but the boats were gone. He didn’t think much of it and thanked Cathan for the ride and the demon left through the gate and would be back in 5 days for him.
The ogre knight wearing his blue and black tabard and silver belt explored down the trail. He saw someone sprawled on the ground up ahead. He hurried to them. The body had been there for awhile. It was a Mar tribe boy. Nichtmar headed to the Mar camp. More of the same bodies, children and adult, slaughtered. He knelt next to one. Not sword cuts, not humans. Clubs…
“Tor…” Nichtmar growled.
The Tor tribe is monstrous. They give ogres a bad name. Normally painted in red, they cause trouble with the other tribes. The wisdom of the Ran tribe normally kept them in check, but something has happened.
It was dark when he arrived at the Ran camp. The once bamboo walls were burned away. Huddles of ogres sat around several fires. Nichtmar walked by them and the ogres stared and pointed. Some laughed at him. Their chief sat upon a thrown of boulders. The ogre knight stood before him. The Chief was a very large ogre, much bigger than Nichtmar. The Warlord lifted his hand and the ogres silenced.
He spoke with a growl to his voice.
“Ha ha, what you be? You ogre, but dress like man!”
Firmly said, “I am Sir Nichtmar, where is my tribe and where is the Ran?”
The ogres erupted. One was about to attack Nichtmar.
“HOLD!!!” The warlord commanded and the ogres obeyed.
“I am Haktor, strongest ogre, killer of Ran…” He grinned. “And Killer of Mar!”
Nichtmar felt that familiar rage stab at him, but he held it in. “So none are alive?”
“Some join Tor, some die, some run.”
He took his blood stained club from his back, “Most die.”
An ogre grabbed his shoulder. Without a thought Nichtmar’s elbow flew back and the ogre’s nose exploded. Blood sprayed. Then in one motion he unsheathed his sword and swung for Haktor. Hak moved and as others were about to charge. He halted them.
“The man ogre challenges me!”
The ogres open up a ring around them.
“Hak strongest!” He held his club in the air.
He swings for Nichtmar’s head, Nichtmar ducks and stabs. Hak grabs the blade and pulls his face to his fist. He lets go of the sword as and hits the ground. The warlord has both weapons and looms over him. Nichtmar erupts and charges. Hak slams both pommels into his back. Hak stabs, he rolls out of the way and staggers to his feet. His side in pain, he circles to buy time.
“You weak like human. Not ogre anymore.”
Nichtmar knew the depth of what he said and it was true. He had grown soft in terms of an ogre. He remembered Rook’s words, “You do better when you’re aggressive.” Maybe this is just in his nature. He grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it into the Chieftain’s eyes and rushed under the weapons and tackled him to ground. He put a knee on one arm, a hand on the other and punched and punched. Hak let go of his club and shoved Nichtmar off. As he got up, Nichtmar planted a boot into his knee. Hak roared and stumbled back. Nichtmar grabbed the club with both hands and crushed his face. Hak dropped to a knee.
“Ha ha haa,” A dark bloody laugh came from Haktor.
“Got heart, but now I finish.”
Nichtmar swung again. Haktor rose and grinned and took the blow to his chest. He grabbed Nichtmar by the throat and lifted him in the air. Feet kicking and the air leaving him he dropped the club. His eyes began to roll back and he passes out. Haktor tosses him to the ground.
“Hak strongest!”
All the ogres roared with celebration. A couple ogres grabbed Nichtmar by his hands and feet and tossed him into the nearby river. Haktor grabbed Nichtmar’s sword and stabbed it into the top of his stone throne. He turned and raised his arms as the tribe cheered.
Torranmar sits about a day’s canoe ride from the southeast coast of the Land Between. The ocean roars and lighting cracks across the sky. A rip of red light opens out of nowhere along the beach. A goblin dressed in a blue and white tabard, red belt and black armor steps through. After him a grizzly hobbit with a black tabard and lorica armor follows. Then the demon Cathan comes through.
“Well there you go boys.” Says Cathan as he is about to go back through the gate. The hobbit known as Rune grabs him by the belt and pulls him back.
“Nope, you’re stayin’. We may need a quick exit and you’re it pal.”
Cathan hesitantly agrees and follows them in to the thick jungle.
Later…
The trio sneaks up to the Tor Camp. Gron notices Nichtmar’s sword and points silently letting the other two know. Concern comes over their faces as they huddle under cover.
Elsewhere…
Nichtmar’s eyes flutter as he stretches and wakes. He’s in a hut and his wounds have been tended to. He suddenly realizes what happened and that he should be dead. He rushes outside. The sun was bright to his eyes.
“Calm, boy,” said an older voice in the Ogre tongue.
Nichtmar turned to the voice. He stared for a moment at the elder in his robes.
“I know you. You’re an elder of the Mar tribe.”
“Hmph, was. I Kalimar. Alone here in the old wood I am. Easy to get lost. Tor not seem to like scary dark jungle.” He smiles. “Why you dress like man, Nichtmar?”
“You know me?”
“Knew father for long time, too bad man kill him. Now you look like them. Hmmph!”
“They aren’t all evil. Some saved me.”
“Maybe, but never to be trusted young one. You will see…”
“You have problem Nichtmar, you must go reclaim tribe. Save Mar. Only way, kill Haktor.”
“He defeated me already. I cannot win.”
“Stop fighting like man. Fight like ogre. Remember the land is your weapon. Here take my club”
He hands him an old hardened bamboo club. The divots and blood stains show the many battles it had seen.
“Now go, be ogre!”
“That’s it?! You don’t have something else for me?”
“Hmmph, too long you been with human. Become strong like the land! Go, go, go!” He nudged him along.
Nichtmar paused for a moment looking at the club.
PUNCH!!!
Kalimar hit Nichtmar sending him on his butt. Blood trickled from his nose.
Nichtmar got up growling in the elders face. “Why’d you do that?!”
He grabs Nichtmar by the shoulders, “Stop thinking, boy! Human teach you think too much. Act! Do what must be done, no hesitate! Follow this…” He points to his heart. “…and this!” He points to his gut.
Later…
Nichtmar marched for the Tor camp. On the way he ran into Rune, Gron and Cathan.
“What are you doing here?” asks Nichtmar.
Cathan, “It’s been two weeks now…you said…”
“Oh yeah…well I have to go kill an ogre.”
Gron, “We should get out of here. There’s a ton of ‘em over there.”
“That’s we’re I’m headed. You guys should go home though.”
Rune, “Yeah right, we’re coming with you.”
“We are?” asked Cathan.
“Yeah.”
“Well come on. Keep the rest busy while I take care of the big one.”
The Ogre, the hobbit, the demon and the goblin dove into battle with the ogres. The ground shook with their giant weapons hitting mostly dirt and tree. Some ogres switched allegiance. Those who were Mar and Ran fought against the Tor. From the trees came more ogres and the battle became confusing. A blood bath ensued. When ogres raged, they became blinded with fury and attacked anything. Nichtmar fought his way to Haktor. They fought like animals. Both spilled each other’s blood with club, rock and fist. No words were heard just the impact of meat being pounded and bodies slammed. Nichtmar wasn’t recognizable as a knight. There was no code or no vow to the light. It was pure instinct and rage that empowered him. This was when he was most dangerous and unpredictable. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He may be a knight, but he is also an ogre. He can’t hide from it anymore.
He hurled Haktor through the thrown and Sir Richter’s old sword sprung loose and it fell into the hands of Sir Nichtmar, the Ogre. Haktor began to rise and as he did Nichtmar gripped the sword with two hands and beheaded the chieftain. His head spun and plopped onto the ground. The Tor immediately surrendered and bowed to Nichtmar. Nichtmar lifted the head.
“Nichtmar is the strongest!”
The culture of the Tor was that the strongest led and they would obey him to their deaths or until someone challenged and killed him. He looked over all the ogres standing there waiting for him to command.
He had them build funeral pyres for all of the fallen ogres from all of the tribes. The fires burned all night as all the ogres chanted their song of mourning. The three from Mittelmarch waited for Nichtmar to tell them what to do.
“Rune, you and Gron will go back to Mittelmarch and see that the soldiers are properly trained and that Mittelmarch is well protected.”
“What about you?” Rune asked.
“I will stay until the tribes can come to a truce.”
And so Cathan took them home and Nichtmar remained to create a council between the tribes and would help them find a way to work together in peace.