Not like the shaking coward outside. Taking him down might dishearten those wolves... maybe... but getting him on his own is a gamble.

...9... 8... 7... 6...

Wait? Did that dwarf say something about a Troll? Does he know something? Curses.

...2... 1... Go time.

Il'Tak ducks low and grips his blade, giving a slow but audible knock on the cabin, just below the window sill.

Just like hunting bear cubs. Wait until the mother is no longer in earshot and lure the cubs with an unexplained noise. The fact that wolves can't operate the windows is definitely a plus.

The knock on the cabin gives a dull and thick THUNK sound, barely audible to the orc's ears on the outside.. Il'Tak can hear the two wolves suddenly huffing in reaction to the knock, looking over at the window sill. A loud growl comes from one of the two as if warning their master.

"Ah, blasted-" The goblin inside speaks with a brief, impatient fervor before cutting himself off and speaking more quietly. "The hells one's doin' back there?" There's a sudden, strange sizzling sound inside. "Go! GO! Get 'im!" the goblin sneers, no doubt to his wolves. There is a scampering of wolven feet and a door opening from the other side of the cottage. A pair of slightly heavier feet enter through the door. "S-sir? Sir!" It's the goblin who had been guarding the front door, now trying to get his boss' attention.

The wolves, meanwhile, will search the back of the cottage shortly, inevitably. Now's the time to hide, or set an ambush, or rush through the window sill if Il'Tak wants to take out the goblin while his wolves are momentarily occupied.

Il'Tak grins as he hears the wolves heading out and... sizzling? Why would there suddenly be any fire in...

...Oh. Ooooh! Witchcraft, right.

Well, no one said that this would be easy. Time to jump in and smother that flame before it can start.

Taking a couple steps back, Il'Tak charges through the window, and keeps running towards the area where he heard the goblin, looking to impale and tackle the brainy little goblin in one swoop.

It's telling just how effective the orc's ambush is. Barreling through the window, Il'Tak notices the goblin leader's back, 'tragically' turned away from the window and over at the door on the other side of the room. At the door's end, the smaller, panicky goblin immediately catches sight of Il'Tak and watches in terror as the mythril blade cleanly tears through the leader's leather armor. A sickeningly strong sound of metal through flesh accompanies the swing as a long slash wound is made on the smaller greenskin's stomach.

The goblin leader howls in pain, clenching his torso with his left arm. On his right arm is the small black stick, now giving off the prior sizzling sound as small electric sparks emit around the ball-pointed end. He looks over at his underling and yells, "GET THE OTHERS, NOW!" And in fear and panic, the smaller goblin runs out of the cottage. If that one escapes then there won't be a lot of time before the remaining goblins and wolves return here.

Fortunately, all that is left is the leader and the two wolves who come barreling in, huffing their slobbering tongues as the shards of glass from the window lightly cut open their malnourished stomachs. The goblin leader raises his black stick at them; the two wolves cower at the mere sight of the sizzling, electric device. "Go! Gut 'im!" the goblin yells at the two wolves, convincing them through force of personality and his little device, as the animals dash around the orc and then charge him in a pincer strike.

Time almost seems to stand still as the wolves charge toward him, giving him a moment to take it all in.

1. Il'Tak was wrong. No magic here... unless that shock-stick is magic.

2. If it weren't for that little stick, those wolves would likely have eaten the goblins long ago

3. The goblin is weak, is holding the stick in one hand, and has short arms.

Il'Tak sweeps around with the broad side of his blade, attempting to disarm the goblin before reversing direction and trying to deflect the advances of at least one wolf.

Taking a bite from one of the wolves, Il'Tak winces in pain. Shaking off the starving wolf, Il'Tak curses.

"If you want something to chew on," Il'Tak mutters in Orcish, "let me give you a proper feast!"

Il'tak swipes at the Goblin again with his blade before slowly making his way to the door, blade drawn and eyes on the wolves.

"Fight the deadly orc or grab a free snack, wolves. Let's see if you're smarter than a goblin"

The goblin, for his part, can't really say anything. With his neck slashed, he grabs at his neck and collapses to the floor as he slowly chokes on his own blood.

Blood stains the wooden ground of the cottage as the wolves' master collapses. The black stick which he had held now rests in the corner of the room. The wolves, who had been coordinated all but a moment ago, suddenly react in panic. They give off a strange mix of sniffling from their snouts and whimpering and huffing from their many-teethed mouth. These semi-tamed wolves, instincts drained and whittled from their captivity, look on in brief terror at the orc before both run out the cottage door.

Given their condition, they won't last long. Hopefully they may find tranquility in their remaining life.

There isn't much time until the remaining goblins and wolves return. Fortunately, there should be enough to collect the leather sack and the books inside. In addition, the goblin's shock-stick has fortunately not broken in disarming it. It could prove useful in dealing with animals, though the beasttamer's methods and beatings were excessive. The sight of the taming stick is enough for animals to back off and listen, should Il'Tak take and use it.

Well... that'll do it.

Time to get out while the getting is good. Il'Tak scoops the books and materials into the leather sack and stows his blade before grabbing the shock stick with his off-hand.

Il'Tak grumbles, briefly lamenting the effort needed to transport this hefty sack for several miles, keeping the materials intact while hunting food (and hopefully not being hunted). Then again, it's nothing that he hasn't dealt with in the past.

Walking out of the cabin, Il'Tak pauses just long enough to peel a section of carbonized bark from the nearest trees, crushing it to dust in his hand. As Il'Tak walks toward the edge of the dead forest, he sprinkles the ashes behind him to cover his scent (replenishing the ashes as needed).

The hefty sack weighs a small deal on the orc's back. Were he to guess, there's enough here that it took the backs of four wolves to heave it a long distance away. The weight of it across long distances shouldn't feel too different from heaving killed animals back during the hunts at Aijur.

The trail of ashes goes unseen and his scent covered as Il'Tak escapes the cottage. Barely a wolf's sniff or a goblin's yell is heard between the pattering steps on dry grass and ash-covered leaves. Were this a bigger group of thieves in a bigger area, this day could be called a successful heist. It will take random searching and guesswork for the goblins and wolves to find Il'Tak. And with the death of their beasttaming leader, they will have more important problems to deal with.

Exiting the dead forest, the clouds above give way to reveal a calming, if dull sunset. The evening provides Il'Tak a chance to briefly look through the sack of books which the goblins stole from the library. Presumably, they took a whole shelf's worth. The sack reveals several dozen of these old texts, most in hard leather cover and lightly engraved with words of all languages. Only a couple are actually written in orcish. Others written in dwarven and elvish; the majority happen to be in common.

Of these books, two in particular catch the hunter's eye. The first is a text on the Grand Library itself, a once-grand cathedral of the dwarfs redesigned centuries ago. The Grand Library is the tallest building in the underground city of Valenearth at the very southeast corner of the Northern Wilds. The book also gives a short summary of its many, many topics covering the last several centuries. Among those topics include the orcs of Aijur and the trolls of Granse. Seems like the trip will be worth it if Il'Tak wants to directly trek to the Grand Library.

The other book of immediate interest is the history of the small city-state of Lorestal, which just happens to be a ways north east from the dead forest. What makes this book significant is that it's written in surprisingly decent orcish, being a translated version from its original common. A brief look into the writing reveals the book and its history of its twelve knights, whose history and accomplishments are engraved within the castle's inner walls, and describes some of their meetings and challenges with werewolves, wild animals and a troll warrior; each follow a familiar theme: the praise of the knights' strength, cooperation and perseverence. The book itself seems written and printed forty years ago, for it tells of no ill-fated end or epilogue of Lorestal. Whether it may still stand or not, the city-state may be worth visiting.

And of course there is that dwarf in the cottage who said he'd venture northward. He had mentioned the troll; perhaps he may be more fluent in the Wilds' history and legends. If Il'Tak wants to follow, it will need to be soon. Dwarves are well-known for their forced march; if one wants to, they could travel across the Northern Wilds in the third of the time it'd take anyone else. That said, there's no clue to how much the dwarf knows about the troll. Il'Tak will be relying on the words of a dwarf as well if he does head north. Is that worth the risk?

Il'tak barely holds back a groan as he sits in his barren "camp"... at least until the groan twists into a forlorn yawn.

Leaning his back against a natural earthen outcropping, the likely result of an earthquake, a semi-circle of stones should discourage most smaller animals.

No fire this night. Not like an orc would need one to read.

Of course, "real" orcs rarely read in the first place, which seems to pose something of a challenge. While Il'Tak knows all of the symbols, he is a remarkably slow reader. Doubly so when an unknown word manifests every few lines or so. What does "manifest" even mean?

Il'Tak rubs his temples with frustration as he considers his options.

On the one hand, the library itself might have exactly what he's after. For all Il'Tak knows, one of the books in his sack might be named "Locating Famous Trolls"... but the odds of finding such a book on his own, much less one written in orcish, seem slim.

On the other hand, there's always room for adventure. The knights in that story fought a troll. The sinister dwarf (AKA: any dwarf with a beard) had also mentioned a troll. Neither was too detailed, however.

Giving a soft snort, Il'Tak makes his decision. He'll go to the Grand Library... but he'll be smart about it for once. He will need... Gruumsh forgive him... assistance.

Someone with the brains to read and speak common for him and the common sense not to stab him in the back. If Il'Tak hurries, he might reach a neighboring orc tribe before humans attack (if they're attacking all tribes, that is). Then, it's a simple matter of finding the sort of herb-chewing, word-spewing, weakling that the tribe won't miss too much.

The thought of relying on such an orc almost makes Il'Tak's flesh crawl. The thought of being hailed as a hero for warning a tribe of the human attacks, however... those thoughts bring a smile to his face as Il'Tak closes his eyes for the night.

The night passes without incident. The wind flew gently past the orc's body in a way unlike in the forest of Aijur. The sun rises clearly upon Il'Tak over the plains beyond the dead forest he left. Nothing among his equipment or the sack of books had been stolen. Given the peaceful night, it's sufficient to say that no goblin or wolf dared to come upon him.

...And yet, there's something a bit off. The relatively peaceful travels since leaving Aijur feel over. It's hard not to wonder whether someone or something may start following him.

Heading eastward, and looking for an orc ally, Il'Tak has the help of the historical text of the Grand Library. Among its summaries about orcs is the mention of the Walkers: a nomadic, desert orc tribe that lives out in the desert known as the Great Sandsea of the Northern Wilds. The summary does not go into depth, identifying them for their strength and skill at arms, their past battles against Lorestal, and various meetings their scouts have had with cities within and nearby the Sandsea. If Il'Tak wants to find an orc who can read well, the Walkers are his best chance.

Il'Tak passes over a small patch of plains before finding and entering the Sandsea. Heavy winds scatter around the dust and sandy hills, covering the skies and clouds with the earth's specks and particles. The sun and clouds above are almost blanketed by the winds to reveal a humidity not unlike that of Aijur. The primary difference of the Sandsea is that the air is significantly drier and the ground is less stable; it takes Il'Tak a few minutes to get used to how the sand can sag and sink beneath his bare green feet. The upside, however, is that the sandy winds hide his footsteps and make him difficult to track.

The time of day becomes difficult to tell between the sandy winds and the clouds beneath the sun. The sky, however, begins to take a slight blue hue as Il'Tak notices a figure in the distance. Though difficult to tell, he can vaguely make out four legs and two figures sticking out above, resembling someone riding a horse. Perhaps it may be one of the Walkers, or perhaps a traveler, or simply a lost fool. If Il'Tak wants, he may approach it to get a better look, follow it from a distance, or simply walk up to try to interact.

Il'Tak raises a single eyebrow as he scans the horizon.

"If someone is hiding behind those dunes, I sure can't see them," Il'Tak muses, rubbing his chin.

"Wait, I'm being stupid," he scolds himself, smacking his own forehead, "Sending someone to stand out there isn't great bait for an ambush. I mean, someone smart would just avoid them."

Il'Tak frowns, deep in thought, "Then again, I've started talking to myself again. I could go and check what is going on. If nothing else,