Chapter 1: With some revisions!
She thought, memories are strange things; uncertain things. They warp and change with time and emotions, shifting endlessly like a river and just as impossible to grasp. As hard as she tried, faces wavered, just out of her line of sight. A twisted mask and black cloak; laughter mixing with the sound of funeral pyres raging, and the pervading odor of sickness and death.
Spider woke slowly, taking the time to will feeling back into her fear-numbed limbs and force air back into her lungs. It was the same dream; always replaying her worst memories. It would have made her laugh; if she was prone to such things. Humans always said that you could become desensitized to such things, over time. Apparently orcs were not so fortunate. The woman ran her tongue over her small, jutting tusks and winced at the foul dryness of her mouth. Evidently at some point through the night she must have left it open like some kind of slack-jawed moron. A quick inspection of her surroundings showed it had not changed much from the night before, the rest of her mercenary crew, excluding the Captain of course, slept on. The sun hadn’t even risen through the low, grime-coated windows of the dusty shack they had holed up in for the night, in the bare field of some farmer whose daughters had fallen victim of Captain Adamar’s charm and wit.
That line of thought tugged at something ugly inside the Orc’s chest, which she quickly quashed. It was time to start the morning meal. As the newest member of the crew, most menial tasks fell onto her broad shoulders. It wasn’t something she minded, exactly, the added workload. She was more than capable of handling carrying heavy objects, or hauling their gear in a pull-cart. More capable than anyone else there; in fact when it came to raw, brute strength she had them all beat.
But cooking was another story. A challenge like no other. She eyed the large iron pot they had hauled in from the cart and stuck on a hook in the crumbling fireplace like it was personally responsible for the stiffness in her limbs and the dust in her sleeping roll. Living on your own, in the wilds, afforded few chances to be picky, and as a result Spider’s tastebuds were practically nonexistent; a fact that her crew lamented greatly despite the fact that not ONE of them would take over the task from her, preferring instead to bitch and moan about it each meal. Slowly she stood, picking her way carefully and as gracefully as her seven foot frame could manage, and managed to make her way to the fireplace without stepping on any of her comrades. A few strikes against her flint with her hunting knife had the kindling piled under the pot to light. That task done; she set about filling it from the waterskins nearby, adding the crushed oats, and slices of deep purple abbarott root and peace chicory. She had learned recently from Erick, the oldest and by far the kindest member of the crew, that the men preferred sweet flavors in the morning, and she tried her damnedest to oblige whenever their supplies permitted. Now that the porridge was bubbling, there was little to do but wait. Spider glanced down at her hands; the hard gray skin stained purple from the root’s juice. It would likely take a few days to wash out; until than her hands were stuck looking like she had had a particularly violent argument with a plum.
Time crept by at an agonizing pace, but eventually the sunlight started to trickle into the shack through the filthy windows, illuminating the small room in a dingy brown light. A few bodies stirred in their bedrolls. Spider allowed her eyes to open again, blinking as her blown-out pupils adjusted to the addition of light to the room. One person sat up, sniffing, than another. Clouds of dust swelled up from wherever they moved, igniting fits of coughing and swearing. A small smile was inevitable; amusement visibly radiating from her when one of the mercenaries stood-- Waller, most likely if the stream of incredibly creative profanities streaming from his mouth during the incident was any indication-- and promptly tripped over another sleeping body, igniting a shouting match that quickly started to rouse the others to choruses of ‘ What bloody time is it?!’ And ‘ Its dustier than Erick’s balls in here, my god!’ and ‘ OI! Watch it you nasty little brat?’ The last one was definitely Erick; and she couldn’t help but bark out a short, guttural laugh at the crude comment. The old man turned his one-eyed glare onto her, which she met with a quirk of her lip and a steady yellow-green gaze of her own, unintimidated. It was hard to be frightened of someone you had two feet and likely at least a hundred pounds on. Eventually the geezer relented, muttering under his breath about needing to take a piss, and excusing himself outside the shack for a moment.
One by one everyone trickled out, than back in as the cold fall air drove them to do their business as quickly as possible so they could get back to the fire-warmed shack and a warm, if not unpleasant tasting, breakfast. Spider was the first to dish herself up after digging a carved bowl and spoon from a nearby pack of supplies, before making her way back to her sleeping roll and wrapping it around her shoulders to help keep the chill out. Her breakfast concoction went down relatively smoothly. She glanced up as Waller approached, his own bowl in hand. He was small, even for a human. Most people would describe him as scraggly. To her, he most resembled a mouse, with large ears and a mop of sandy brown hair. The youth grinned up a ther, which she returned as politely as possible.
“ So; this mean you’ve given up trying to kill us all, ” Waller punctuated his point with a spoonful of porridge, muttering around it, “ Or you just taking a bit of a breather on that, rethinking the best way to go about it?” He offered a lopsided grin, which she just stared pointedly at.
“ What I prepare gives you the energy you need. If its not to your liking you can have cooking duty back, Waller. I am more than happy to acquiesce control of the blasted cooking implements to you.” She set aside her own bowl, crossing her arms pointedly in front of her chest as he sputtered and backpedaled, muttering reassurances that yes, her cooking did a fine job of keeping them all fed, and please don’t snap my spine please-and-thank-you; a bundle of nerves in any sort of confrontation; she remembered when she first saw him, she had rather thought he would faint.
-It was raining. Storming, really. Of course it would be; why could nothing ever be simple, easy? There was no good environment for a fight, but lately Spider had found herself in less and less favorable situations. Up to her neck in mud and blinded by rain on an unkempt back-road was probably the worst so far. It was coming down in sheets, plastering her unkempt hair limply against her grayscale cheeks and preventing her from seeing what was up ahead, lurking in the shadow of the broken-down farmhouse and long grass all around her. About six of them, clothes in meagre leather armor with bent, poorly cared for swords and knives and a cruel look in their eye. Her bow lay unstrung against her back and wrapped in leather to prevent the wood getting wet; her only weapon currently lay heavy against her leg. She slid her right hand down her thigh, gripping the hilt of the dagger strapped there, preparing for trouble. It came slowly, in her mind’s eye; a flash of lightning, a laugh from one of the bandits. He took a step towards her, sword raised, and she snarled warningly.
It was over quickly. Her skin was cracked, in places where they had managed to hit it hard enough with their heavy steel, but she was otherwise unharmed. She turned back in the direction she had been headed, and her heart sank. Four more, emerging from the rain just downwind of her, following the road. It was plain enough these were no town guard, their uniform nonexistent and their weapons varied, likely taken from the backs of other travelers. Their boots were caked in the mud, sunk halfway into the dirt road. She saw the fear and revulsion, the hatred in their eyes once they saw her; It always came once they realized she wasn’t human. One of the newcomers looked ready to pass out at the sight of the broken corpses around her; barely into adulthood and shaking like a leaf, but gripping his weapon, ready to attack all the same. The idea of having to hurt anyone else made her feel ill, but she did her best to straighten her spine and look intimidating. It didn’t work; it never did.
And that was how the Captain and the crew found her; slicked in diluted human blood and mud, eyes wild and gripping onto her dagger so violently her knuckles were white, just outside that rotting house. Hands shaking and half crazy They were much better armed than the highwaymen had been, looking shocked and wary.
And then, one of the humans did something she never would have expected. He was tall, for a human but still a head and a half shorter than herself, with a square jaw and bright eyes the color of the dark water under a bridge. Even drenched from head to toe, he somehow managed to look perfectly put together. She found herself lowering her guard, ever so slightly, when he offered up a brilliant smile. She was a bit stunned’ she knew, in theory what a smile was of course, but so rarely had one ever been directed her way, and never that warmly.
“ Well; didn’t expect to come out here and find our job done for us, and by such a lovely little lady to boot! How would you like a job, Miss?”
The way he spoke made it apparent he was in charge, his air confident and commanding, and Spider couldn’t help but find herself at a loss for words.-
She was snapped back from her recollections as quickly as they had begun by the sound of a heavy boot kicking in the door and a boisterous shout that could only belong to the one and only Captain Adamar.
“ Mm. Smells good in here, Miss Spider. Shame I already had breakfast with Eloise and her lovely family; but not much I can do about that. Wake up you lazy bastards! Let's get a move on!” She couldn’t help letting a snort escape her; always with the flattery. It wasn’t even worth a response. She was well aware of what the captain thought of her cooking, as he always endeavored to make sure he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. The rest of the crew grumbled and groused, but proceeded to wrap up their morning meals and start packing up to move onto the next town and the next potential jobsite. Winter was coming, and bandit activity was on the rise as they tried to stockpile as many supplies as they could to outlast the biting cold and starved beasts that tended to roam the areas they inhabited. Winters were hard enough on small towns and villages; the last thing they needed was an encampment of brigands living within range, and that meant plenty of work for Adamar’s crew.
Stiff joints groaned as she stood, pushing lengths of raven hair back from her eyes to tie it into a loose bun, just enough to keep it from blocking her vision. It was long enough now that, if left untied it fell around her shoulders in straight lengths. Before she had joined up with Adamar’s mercenaries, she would have taken her dagger to it rather than bother with the leather tie; vanity wasn’t worth her life. But in the past few months her perspective had shifted. With trepidation, she snuck a glance towards the door where the Captain stood arguing animatedly with Erick, the second in command was clearly irritated with some aspect of his captain’s behavior, as he whacked at the younger man with the blunt end of his walking stick. The sun from the open door caught on his glossy blonde hair as he threw his head back and laughed, prompting a strange, tight feeling in the orc’s chest. It was quashed as quickly as it came, and she snapped her attention back to her work. She needed to load the cart outside with their supplies, and check it for any damages. After that she had to restock their waterskins at the stream that ran nearby; and than they could start on the trip.
“ Ey, Spider. Need a hand?” A smallish, mousey man, Waller called out to her, falling into step with her just outside the shack. She looked down at the man and shifted the large bundle of goods in her arm, considering. She didn’t really need the help; but he would likely find trouble pestering Erick or the other men if she didn’t let him, so he was given a curt nod.
“ Right, than. I’ll just pop inside and grab a few things; make this go a little quicker eh?” He was gone almost before he finished talking, and Spider blinked. Perhaps he was more like a rabbit than a mouse? Either way, it didn’t overly matter. He wouldn’t help speed this along by much; but perhaps they would be on their way before lunch. He was a good sort; and she counted herself lucky to have found such a welcoming group of humans. Such things were rare.
Waller was, admittedly, helpful. While he lacked the ability to carry as much as she could in one trip, he moved quickly and before long they had the cart loaded with all the sleeping rolls, cooking implements, spare weapons, and rations. All that was left was to take the empty waterskins down to the stream and fill them; and this she insisted she could manage on her own, though Waller insisted it wasn’t fair to make her do so much on her own. He was a very kind human; it almost made her feel a little guilty for sending him scurrying off with a glare and a well-placed growl. She didn’t mind; and while it was nice to have company his inane and constant stream of chatter could be incredibly grating, especially when he started asking her QUESTIONS. Did she get enough breakfast? Was it true Erick had a glass eye? Did she think Adamar slept with the farmer’s daughter? She gnashed her teeth, crouching down near the edge of the stream to fill the waterskin in her hand. How would she bloody know what the Captain did in his off time? Why would she care? There was no reason to, so she didn’t.
Or at least that was what she would continue to tell herself. She let out a soft whuff of breath; not quite a laugh but something close. It was just.. Nice to be around people. Even if they weren't like her. She hadn’t known what it was to be lonely until she wasn’t anymore; and she had the Captain to thank for that. And so; she would follow until she couldn’t. That much, she owed them all.
