Orcish Recon Part 1.1 - A Rescue

 The chance that the monk was even alive after the gory scene Avoy had witnessed were slim, but as the mass of orcs dispersed through the rest of the camp, he found himself with more questions than answers. He’d never witnessed, or heard, about such a display before, and he had certainly never seen anything like that knife. While ritualistic scarring was common in some clans, it was usually done in private--and certainly never performed on someone outside the clan, and absolutely never on someone who was not an orc. The knife, of course, was its own curiosity, but it was a toss up whether trying to steal it, or get to the monk, was more dangerous. In the end, he decided to go after the monk--most likely, he was dead, but the monastery would want to know his fate. Recovering his body would certainly provide a casus belli to the monastery for an assault on the camp.

He clung to the outcropping of rock for a few hours, as night set in, the camp slowed down, and he had the watch patrols memorized. Orcs weren’t exactly known for their tight security--but a misstep wouldn’t do him any good. He had an image of himself on that stone, knife cutting into him, and resolved that he wouldn’t slip into the same fate if he could help it. He slipped down the rock--which was quite a bit harder than getting up it--and slipped into the camp unseen.

He’d hadn’t been able to see where the guards had dragged the monk off to exactly, but it wasn’t long before he found a trail of blood on the ground that marked the path they must have taken. He slipped through the shadows, thankful that most of the orcs were focused on drowning themselves in grog for the evening, and not watching out for rogues slipping past them. The trail of blood lead to a large tent to the north of the camp which, if it was meant for prisoners, wasn’t particularly well guarded. They apparently weren’t too concerned with the monk getting loose--not after a display like that.

Inside the large tent, it was clear that the orcs were planning for more prisoners than they currently had. Large pens had been constructed, though they were all empty, aside from one towards the front--where a single figure was crumpled on the ground, groaning in pain. The light was dim in the tent--just a couple of lanterns burning towards the entrance, but even in the low light, Avoy could tell that something strange was going on.

At first, he thought the monk was glowing, but that couldn’t be right. As he came closer, he realized that what he’d first understood to be a green glow or aura surrounding the monk was just the color of the monk’s skin. He’d been stripped naked during the ritual, and the orcs hadn’t returned any clothes to him, and everywhere Avoy could see, the skin was covered with green blotches, clammy with sweat. He crept closer, and noticed that he couldn’t see any open wounds on the monk either--was it even him? Maybe he’d died already, and they’d taken the corpse somewhere else, and he was looking at a different person altogether--perhaps a half orc? No--the cuts weren’t gone--they were closing. He could see lines of scars all over the man’s body, front and back. It was the monk, but how could the wounds be healing so fast?

The monk rolled over so he was facing Avoy outside the cage, and he froze when he saw him. “Are...who...you have to get out of here, you have to run...” the monk said, his voice...deeper than his small frame would have suggested, his words a bit garbled, like he had something in his mouth obstructing the words, like a gag. Avoy went and fetched one of the torches so he could have better light, and when he came back with it, he saw what was in the monk’s mouth--it was teeth, but not human teeth. Some of them, perhaps, but it was the two orcish tusks he saw in the man’s mouth first. The monk shuddered, coughed, and he saw a few human ones fall to the dirt under him.

“What...what the fuck did they do to you?” Avoy asked.

“It’s too late--the others...they came back, and...I had to watch, knowing what was going to happen to me too.”

Avoy assumed he meant the guards that had been abducted shortly before the monk. They weren’t here--had...had they joined the horde around them? Avoy shuddered at the thought, and backed away, eyeing the exit. Whatever this was, he hadn’t signed up for this mess.

“Please, help me. I don’t...I don’t want to be one of them, these monsters.” The monk collapsed again, and Avoy watched the muscles under his skin spasm and expand awkwardly. The monk’s small frame wouldn’t be small for much longer. But how long would his mind last? If he took him along, there was no chance they’d be able to slip away undetected, and while Avoy could fight...could the monk in his condition? It would be safer to leave him--he could get back to the monastery in a few hours, return with a group of knights...well, he wouldn’t. Whatever was happening here, he wanted no part of it what-so-ever. He’d be charging double his rate when he got back, for hazard pay.

“Please...please don’t leave me here, I don’t want to be one of them, I don’t...please...” the monk said, crawling to the door of the cage, hauling himself upright--he could stand at least. Avoy was paralyzed for a moment--but he made his decision. What does he do?

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