Hûra always watched his elders apply the clan’s signature kohl paint to the other pups’ faces from afar. They never did such a thing for him. Always it was made clear that Hûra was the other; something unwelcome, abhorrent, cursed. There were no sharp edges or angles in the way their fingers danced across those young faces. Fluid, flowing, like water- something soft, something that wasn’t meant for him. Whenever he touches his bare face, he knows he truly is unwanted- unneeded, even. The clan wouldn’t waste something as precious as their kohl paint on the likes of him. Not their paint, not their resources or their time…
Whenever he looks at himself, he doesn’t see what they see. Surely, it’s something different, right…? All Hûra ever saw was himself, but maybe that was exactly it; they didn’t like him, and nothing he could ever do would change that. His face was too soft around the edges, his hair too long, too thick and grew too quickly, legs too long, fingers too dainty, his eyes too clear and bright… Not to mention his fits and his bizarre attachment to bones…
The elders of his clan barely gave the pup what he needed to survive. His clothing was tattered, a full meal was a scarce luxury- they even gave him a basic bow instead of any other kind of weapon. It would be a waste on the lad… he won’t survive the winter. Hûra did survive the winter, but he never complained about that simple bow of his: it was reliable, it was quiet, it was easy to maintain and he didn’t mind fletching in the slightest. It was perhaps the only “gift” that he had ever received from his elders that was of any value. Well, that, and their “training”…
Hûra steals leftover charcoal from the fire pits when no one is looking. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s his, and he doesn’t care. There are plenty of small puddles in the caverns of Cirith Ungol, more than enough out of the way to where he can have some semblance of privacy. It’s easy enough to grind it into something usable, and with a little water, it’s more than capable to be painted on, if not a tad messy and rather… thin. Hûra doesn’t replicate his clan’s flowing style, rather, he makes it into something different.
Sharp lines, with sharp angles. Across his cheekbones, around and on his chin, near his eyes… Yes, now instead of looking softskinned, instead of looking like a damn elf, now he looks like an uruk! Ready to fight! Ready to- to hunt…! And… no. No, he doesn’t like any of that nonsense! Hûra likes his birds and his bones, he likes thinking and watching and counting how many times someone trips or they miss their mark, or even hit their mark! He doesn’t like the loudness, the aggression or the fear… A hand raises to smear off the poor uruk’s paint, but he lets it fall to his lap.
No, he doesn’t like any of it… but he does like the look of his face. It’s his- not the clan’s or the elder’s or the tribe’s- this is all him. All Hûra. They’ll hate it, make him smear it off, maybe punish him but… he doesn’t care. Not anymore. They can’t take this away from him, much like they can’t change what he is. Petty, but satisfying nonetheless.
Krov'dan was meant to be a supporting character and comic relief character (but I'm quickly growing to like drawing him and flushing out his character!)
Krov (called Krost by EmberFang) is a charismatic, easily frightend, clumsy (and some would describe with affection.. lazy) blood-brother to Obrin EmberFang. He ascribes to the notion "work smarter, not harder". Has sorta peon-like qualities from WoW. (despite not being very bright himself.. He does have bright moments! ❤️)
Krov'dan is slightly more musically inclined than the average orc - leading him down the odd path of the Bard! He had a sturdy wooden Ukulele embezzled with blunt beastial horns (Because many a times.. As he gets flustered in battle and can't remember or think of witty rhymes and spell songs in the heat of the moment.. And resorts to the tried and true method of using the weapon as a club) wack wack wack*
Some fun random facts about this Orc:
- He comes from a line of Beast Masters and had trained to ride an array of Beasts. But is scared of all of them. "I prefer walking"
- Krov'dan will tell you that the harrowing gash across his face and chest was the result of an epic battle between him and a drake (or a Wyvern. It varies depending on who he's talking to), but in actuality he can't hold his liquor and fell flat on his face that one time at a local bar
- For his size and stature, Krov'dan is a surprisingly fast and agile runner. He prides himself in what he calls 'strategic retreats' (to his credit, he runs circles and waits for opportune times to ambush unsuspecting enemies in pursuit. But does not fair so well as a Frontline attacker)
- Krov'dan, knows only the most basic of spells / enchantments. (almost akin to birthday party tricks) but is more perceptive than the average orc. During his travels he sometimes finds or trades for crystals with magic properties. Though not fully able to comprehend what their uses may be, they do seem to aid him when he utilizes them as ukulele picks.
The Shaman and the Bard- Ch.16 Change for the Better
Hûra has never slept so much or as hard as he did the during his first night in his new clan located in Seregost. He wasn't sure of how long he was asleep for or what he missed, but he had no idea of how much his life would change in this cold and desolate place.
xxx
Peck, peck, peck!
Hûra rolled away from the insistent, sharp prodding, scrunching up his nose as he pulled the scratchy, threadbare blanket over his head as he clung onto the drowsiness that still tugged at the forefront of his mind.
Just a little longer…
A weight, light enough that it could be ignored but still full of purposeful movement, hopped over to the other side of his head. Hûra thought he was safe, but he should have known better. No part of him was safe when Ghâsh was determined to get what she wanted. A well placed peck to Hûra’s forehead made him jump in surprise and hiss in pain. The crow mocked him with her laughter.
Craw! Hraa! Hraa! Hraa!
Hûra scowled as he sat up, rubbing his forehead with his knuckles as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. He felt… awful… Never has sleep clung to him like this before… Thick and smothering, not at all comforting and satisfying, he felt drowsy still and like if he didn’t concentrate with all his might, Hûra believed he would slip unconscious once again in the blink of an eye. He looked down at Ghâsh, who cocked her head to the side as her eyes followed the motion of his hand.
“...you didn’t have to do it so hard…” Hûra grumbled under his breath as he dragged his hand down to his eyes. He still couldn’t quite shake the exhaustion that consumed him but he at least no longer felt as though he would fall back asleep if he blinked too hard or for too long.
Hûra didn’t immediately get up from the bed, instead he sat upright as he stroked Ghâsh’s beak and smoothed down her ruffled feathers. Has he ever slept in a bed before? Not in Cirith Ungol… It was a wooden frame raised off the ground that creaked every time he shifted his weight. It wasn’t comfortable but he imagined that sleeping on the ground would be too cold… Even though there was some warmth in the air, Hûra could still feel an ice cold breeze occasionally nipping at his exposed skin every so often. He pulled his collar closer to his neck with his free hand, picking at the fabric absentmindedly as his brows began to furrow.
It feels… different.
What he was wearing was not what he arrived in Seregost with. Conflicting feelings flared inside of him as he pulled the grey blanket off his body so he could see exactly what he was wearing.
The same white robes he saw other uruks wearing when he arrived… Some uruk had undressed him while he was asleep?! His skin felt itchy underneath the rough fabric. Hûra scratched his arms, feeling somehow hot and cold at the same time. They couldn’t have waited?! They couldn’t have just-?! A pit formed in his stomach.
They couldn’t have just left me alone…?
Ghâsh picked at his robe, a soft rumble in the back of her throat her way of asking “are you here with me?” Hûra released his arms and let them fall to his side, a harsh breath escaping his nostrils. He tapped one of her claws as he tried to let go of the sickening feeling that was worming its way up the back of his throat.
I’m here, little crow…
Hûra wished he had just a little more time alone with his special girl, so he could just think- or not think- but the healer had to check on him sooner or later, and now was that time, he supposed. Without knocking, the healer opens the door to the small room that Hûra first awoke in.
“Ah- You are awake?” He sounded surprised, though Hûra wasn’t sure why. He shrugged, lowering his head as he focused his eyes on Ghâsh. She turned to face the healer, nails digging into Hûra’s thigh as she crooned softly.
“That bird has been a pain in the arse.” The healer stated dryly. He stepped into the room without closing the door behind him.
He wasn’t dressed like the healers Hûra saw in Cirith Ungol. Dressed in the same black as the elders, he didn’t have the usual surgeon’s apron many healers opted to wear. Instead, he wore one about the waist with pockets that were likely full of a handful of instruments that he would likely need while attending to the clan. What struck Hûra wasn’t the thick furs draped over the back of his shoulders- no, it was far too cold to go without protection- it was the dried herbs that he wore around his neck. Herbs Hûra had neither seen nor smelled before and still they smelled strongly though they were long dried and clearly old and flaking away. He scrunched up his nose as the healer approached him.
“She… can be naughty at times…” Hûra conceded. The healer didn’t acknowledge the pup’s comment and instead pulled down the shoulder of his robe.
“Feel any discomfort? Pain? Headaches? Nausea?” A sharply shaped nail prodded at his shoulder and Hûra winced, a little overwhelmed by the sudden questioning thrown his way.
“Um… I-I don’t-” The healer sighed, releasing the pup’s robe as he straightened up.
“...doesn’t need to be changed yet…”
“W-Wha-?” Ghâsh fluttered her wings and called out as the healer pulled the remaining cover off of Hûra’s legs.
“If you aren’t ill or in pain, then you have no reason to remain here.” He pointed to the door and when Hûra didn’t immediately stand to leave, he pulled the pup out of bed by the collar of his new white robe and onto his feet. Ghâsh cawed and flew onto the pup’s shoulders as he stood awkwardly with his shoulders raised to his ears.
“Go on, then!” He pushed him out, but Hûra hesitated.
“W-Wait! Where are my things- M-My clothes a-and my-” Hûra touched the shoulder the healer was inspecting.
“A-Am I bandaged-?”
“Your things are waiting for you out there, now get going! I have work to do!” With one last push Hûra is out of the room with the door closing behind him, though the healer didn’t remain in the room as Hûra expected him to. As he shuffled down the hallway, lost and uncertain of where to go, he overhears the healer ordering another uruk to clean the room and get in order before it is needed again.
Hûra shifted foot to foot with his head down as several uruks walked past him, whispering to one another with their hands to their mouths to prevent him from fully understanding what they were saying. He felt his ears warm and his heart skip a beat as he walked away, eyes focused on the ground.
Are they talking about him…?
It took Hûra far too long to find his way out of the building he was in- he kept taking wrong turns and walking in circles. He didn’t dare to ask for help and no uruk that saw him wandering around aimlessly offered to help him. Eventually, Hûra grew desperate from shame and claustrophobia, and he decided that leaving by any means necessary was preferable to having even one more uruk witness him continue to be lost in a single building, so he opened a window and climbed out.
It wasn’t far off the ground- close enough that, when his feet did hit the ground, he quickly closed the window the best he could least that any uruk realize exactly what he had done. He would never hear the end of it… Ghâsh stretched her wings and crooned in his ear, hopping around on Hûra’s shoulder as he took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart and burning face.
The cold of Seregost was incredibly sobering for him. It was uncomfortable to breathe deeply, but Hûra did so anyway as a means to reground himself. Picking up his feet awkwardly due to the deep snow, he shuffled around the side of the building- was it some sort of infirmary?- and peered around the corner, a little wary of what other uruks would say or think seeing him step out from behind a building he has no reason being behind.
No one will see, right?
The clan was going about their daily lives. Working, talking, walking around… Hûra swallowed his pride and stepped out into the little path that was cut out due to the foot traffic of a couple dozen uruks treading through the area all throughout the day. Wrapping his arms around himself, Hûra trudged along the path, not really sure of where he was exactly going. Ghâsh bobbed her head and chatted softly into Hûra’s ear.
“I-It’s okay, girl….” Hûra stroked her beak with a curled forefinger. He looked over his shoulder and felt his stomach sink.
Three uruks that he vaguely remembered- they traveled with him to Seregost, he thinks?- were approaching him from behind. What did they want? Were they going to pick a fight with him? Would they hurt Ghâsh? Hûra sucked in a breath, never minding how his lungs burned, and pretended as though he never saw them.
Maybe they will pass by-?
“Um… h-hey…?”
Now Hûra turned to face them, feigning surprise as his eyes widened.
“H-Huh…? Me?” Ghâsh mouthed at his finger playfully as he wiggled it absentmindedly at her. One of the boys nodded as he shivered. He shoved his hands into his armpits as he hopped from foot to foot uncomfortably.
“Yeah… Y-You’re the one that the elders k-keep talking about.” Hûra was taken aback.
What? The elders are talking about me…? Why would they do that? Was… he in trouble for touching those b-bones and- and fainting…? Hûra shifted his attention from Ghâsh to his hair, picking at it and pulling it towards his mouth.
‘W-Why…? I-I didn’t-” One of the uruks stepped forward. Hûra took a step back, sizing up this uruk as he took another step forward.
He’s smaller than me… thinner too. I could take him, but he needs to strike first-
“You read bones, yeah?” There was a glint in his eyes that Hûra couldn’t place. Was it admiration? Disgust? Jealousy? He sucked in another breath and nodded, wary of where this conversation was headed.
“Mmm hmm… Why?” Hûra was prepared to be struck, to be attacked by all three of them or by even more uruks, but instead, the uruk that stepped forward started to pick at the collar of his white robe.
“That’s… neat.” A small smile tugged at his lips as he brought the coth up to his mouth. He bit down on it and began to suck on the fabric. Hûra was… surprised.
It’s… neat? He thinks that his abilities are neat? A warmth that Hûra has never felt before began to spread throughout his head.
The only time he’s ever felt such a thing was towards his crows and other beasts. But especially his crows. A gentle feeling that was still strong, overpowering anything negative or scary that was swimming around in his head. The other two uruks nodded in agreement, the one that was visibly cold smiled through chattering teeth while the other, quieter one seemed to get a little lost in thought suddenly.
Hûra didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He only shifted from foot to foot, lowering his head as his ears began to throb. The uruk that was directly in front of him then piped up once more.
“Can you teach us how to do that?” When Hûra didn’t respond for a second, the cold one added.
“Y-You know! W-With the b-bones? How d-do ya d-do it?!” Ah- Oh…
They… They want him to teach them…?
Hûra didn’t know how he did what he did, but he didn’t want to say that to them. It would be dishonest to tell them that he could teach them how to read bones like he does… but he didn’t want to send them away like that either. Hûra carefully picked his words, for fear that they would no longer admire him or wish to speak to him if he said the wrong thing.
“I-I don’t know how I do it… but-” He quickly added, fearing they would turn and walk away. They didn’t, instead, they waited eagerly for him to continue. “-I’d like to figure it out w-with you all…” Hûra’s voice fell to a whisper.
Did he really say that…? The uruk in front of him seemed pleased, as did the cold one, who shifted around in a more energetic manner. The third, though, still seemed out of it, but he nodded, showing that he was- in fact- listening but it was done almost as an afterthought. Hûra didn’t mind though. These uruks…
Hûra wasn’t sure, but he could have just made some friends! Maybe not ones that will last long, maybe they are just using him to further themselves… but Hûra just wanted to think- to pretend- for a little while, that this could be the start of something that he has wanted for the longest time. Friendship… Brotherhood…
Before they could talk much more- before they had even exchanged names- the four pups were found by an elder and scolded for not attending some sort of lesson. Lesson? Hûra only woke up not even an hour ago! But they were hurried off before he could ask any questions. Before he could even conjure the courage to ask anything… One of the boys promised to find him later, barely being able to add that his name was Mogg before the four were separated from one another. Or as Hûra was separated from them, since he was pushed into a group that seemed to be full of uruks much older than he was.
Hûra couldn’t help but to sweat, wondering if there was some mistake… But he would keep his mouth shut and observe. He’s already messed up after only being here for a single day! He can’t mess things up anymore. Not now, not when he might actually have just made some friends…
