[WFRP2e] The Power of One - Part 2 - "Transire Benefaciendo"

[MrAbdiel]

It would be easy enough to conclude that, there being no female orcs discovered, these might not be male, and have no male anatomical markers. Easy to conclude, though not easy to theorize - all creatures from birds to bears to dragons to men to elves to skaven produce through coupling. The exceptions are very strange and rare - slimes, and daemons, and monstrous things about which little is known.

And so prodding back the creature's loincloth with a stick, to discover the beast's inhuman, but not unrecognizable protrusion is puzzling. Perhaps there are female orcs somewhere, hidden in caves. Perhaps urinating with manual precision is so important to the species that the require such dextrous aid - skaven piss on their slaves and possessions to mark them, and dogs do so over locations they are fond of. Or perhaps whatever malign god created these green monsters did so as a direct parody of the upright and noble races of the world, particularly their fighting men - and the presence of such a feature is a sort of mark of design economy. The creature seemed aware enough of itself to wear a loincloth - ultimately, you come away from the viewing with more questions than answers.

You bid Leoduccio and the dogs farewell, and return with Bella to the flying machine. "What awful creatures. The rats are a horror to be sure, but the orc looks like every worst feature of a man made repulsively overpronounced - brutish, smelly, strong. And also made green, for some reason." The seamstress ponders with disgust, hoping not to ever see one again.

It is a hope that would be shortly dashed.

You say your farewells to the mercenaries and return to find Signore Cestié quite chipper indeed. The praise of other men, especially strangers, is deeply gratifying to him. You remember when the Rampollo Damio invited you into conference with the local livestock barons, and you were treated with slowly mounting appreciation and even admiration for your youthful ambition. And also, after the stress and fear of his reunion with his family, it is nice to see him happy. You secure yourselves to the machine, put on your helmets, and pedal back into the sky; ascending up above the winding mountain pass, following its snaking way from the safety of the sky.

A couple of hours into the journey, as the rocky peaks and cliffs scroll by beneath you and the green land beyond them is glowing on the horizon with the dipping sun, your ears first pick up the distant, tinny clatter of battle far below. Soon, the conflict is visible to you and your companions as well.

Far below, on an upcoming shoulder of cliff on one of the mountains, a lone human fighter makes a slowly failing stand against a small mob of orcs. The cliff ledge is narrow enough that the familiar knight - in his gold and black heraldry, you have seen him before - is able to control the approach of the orcs with great wild swings of his longsword and mastery of his shield. Your keen eyes watch as one of the green brutes blurts out a cry of violence and tries to move around to flank, and his slammed in the face with the shield to tumble down the cliff with wet, cracking impacts all the way down the jagged rock. But the knight is flagging, and tired; and there are a half dozen more orcs cagilly looking for their moment to fall on him and bear him down with their numbers. The largest among them is a foot taller than the knight, and has a crude wooded rack of spears rigged to his back on which are mounted the heads of two orcs, a skaven, and a human.

You see two more orcs strewn in blood behind the mob, suggesting this has been a fighting retreat, but he can retreat no more - immediately behind him, barring his way both physically and as a matter of chivalry, is the beautiful winged horse; stricken, bleeding, stilled. It would be impossible to land the flying machine on such a ledge; but it seems the pegasus has more options of maneuverability, and the knight landed to attack the orcs only for his companion mount to suffer a terrible blow and strand him in the fight for his life.

"Taalia, oh no! His horse, Taalia, how awful!" Bella's response is instinctively empathetic, if incomplete. Her attention is drawn to the suffering of the beautiful and noble animal. Your attention, sharpened to a razor edge of survival math in the dark places under the earth, is drawn also the the immediate mortal peril of the knight. He has fought well, and will die surrounded by the bodies of his enemy - but he will die; and the fine helm with its gold and black ribbons will be mounted on that trophy rack.

Signore Cestié looks over his shoulder to you, and gives you a nod. "Just like the rats, I think. Transire Benefaciendo, Taalia! Yahoo!"

Transire Benefaciendo - to travel, and do good deeds; a Tilean expression you have heard before. It is not the explicitly required lifestyle of any Tilean, but holds a place in the culture as a kind of counterpart to the expectations of hospitality. Ishea (or perhaps Rhya) will hold accountable those who do not open their home to travellers in need; and Karnos (or perhaps Taal) will look darkly on those vagabonds and freebooters who enjoy the hospitality of strangers, but do not perform those good deeds they can, on the roads through the forests and mountains. It is the principal that you unknowingly honored when you leapt to Gaulfredo's defense, in the woods in Verezzo against the goblins; and that he honored in turn by opening his home to you afterward. And it is the principle that Signore Cestié, who has lived most of his life in cities and towns and is just now catching up on his backlog of travel, seeks to honor as he gives you a moment to get your blunderbuss ready, and then puts Maso's Magnificent Flying Machine into a controlled dive and bank to give you a shot at the snarling greenskins.

Spoiler: OOC:

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Boom! Give me six damage rolls upon these startled orcs.

Actually, also, you should be rolling a d100 every time you fire that thing, just for the unreliable quality - 1-95 you hit, 96-99 it misfires and jams, 100 it explodes. You can reroll this with FP.

But after that, six damage rolls. And, you know, commentary.