by R. Malak
“Anyone know why these fuckers are more dangerous than their regular sized kin?” The room was silent. Duncan glared all around him, before snorting his nose derisively at their ignorance “Once a goblin kills, it eats the brains of its victim, whether that be ally or enemy the filthy beast becomes that much smarter. Your average turd eating goblin scum are dumb as fucks and are fairly easy to slaughter, but these gobs right here.” He pointed to the projection. “These gobs here can become bloody dangerous, not only because they become smarter, but because they become more cunning as well. I’ve seen entire squads underestimate these creatures and get slaughtered by these blighted bastards, so you watch your arse out there if you see one of these fuckers.”
Duncan snapped his fingers and the image switched to a small round creature with a rotund body, tiny red eyes and small feet. “Anyone know what these fuckers are?
The teenager beside him raised his hand. “Sir, it’s a Hob.”
“Well good on fucking you. Yes, it’s a fucking Hob, our boys in brown report that these buggers are a reclusive lot and tend to hunt on their own. These nasty little shits can leap high into the air, and before you realize it, tear your fucking throat out. So always be on the lookout for these turd droppings, they’re good at hiding and tracking their prey.”
He clicked his fingers again and the hologram changed to reveal the creature he had seen in the ditch. A short stout humanlike creature with a long beard, sharp claw like fingers, pitch black eyes and dirty grey feet. Unlike the creature he had seen in the pit, this one wore chainmail armor.
“This here is the reason why we are losing this fucking war.” Talmen leaned forward in his seat to listen. “We call them dwarves on account of them being short, but make no mistake these tiny bastards will rip you open like you were a can of tuna. Anyone know why these fuckers are so dangerous?”
Talmen looked around, but no one raised their arms up.
Duncan gave another derisive snort. “I don’t like having deadweights in my class, so listen carefully. These beasts are so bloody dangerous, because of one thing, and that is their ability to tunnel underground and come up underneath your feet to tear your bloody legs out from under you!” He finished dramatically, smashing his fists against the podium, making a few cadets jump up in their seats. “These fuckers here make static defense and holding ground almost impossible.”
Without thinking Talmen asked, “Almost, sir?”
Duncan twisted around to eyeball Talmen. “Yes, pork chop, almost. These butt tunnelers have their limits, they can’t dig through stone and they sure as fuck can’t dig through concrete.” Finished, he clapped his hands together and the image evaporated.
He then walked out from behind the podium and paced slowly along the front row of students, meeting their eyes with a steady gaze, then paused and spoke to them quietly, forcing the students to lean forward to hear better.
“The names we use to identify these creatures are names taken from the past, written in books that no longer exist, the United Nations Military believes it to be a coincidence that these mythical creatures have appeared in our world, but not me. I believe these fucking creatures have been here before to scout out our world and test our defenses. Which tells me one thing…” He paused to move his head side to side to make sure everyone was listening. “These creatures have been preparing for war with us for centuries and because of that preparation, they are winning.” He lifted his right fist into the air. “Knowledge is Power,” he boomed loudly.
The cadets immediately chanted back. “Knowledge is Power.”
With that he returned to the podium to collect his belongings. He then looked in their direction. “You, you and you, come here.”
Talmen nervously walked over to the lieutenant with Rollo and Lucy dawdling not far behind him.
The cadets filed out of the room in ones or twos, with a few of the students giving them sympathetic glances, before walking out of the hall. Duncan waited patiently appraising the three of them. With the room almost empty, he sighed and rubbed his temples tiredly with his fingers.
“Fuck it’s been a long day, so listen very carefully. High command has issued a conscription order out for all men and women of fighting age. Rollo, Lucy. You have both have reached that age and judging by your friend’s appearance, so has he. So, I have one question for each of you. What would you like to do? Currently there are three positions that need more bodies to fill their ranks there’s the Rangers, who scavenge for supplies, the Defenders who protect and patrol our perimeter and the UN military, who does fuck if I know?”
Talmen slightly taken aback by the Lieutenant’s calm tone and change in demeanor exchanged worried looks with Rollo, who shrugged his shoulders.
Taking a deep breath to steel his jittery nerves, Talmen replied, “Well, sir, I am fairly good at hunting and shooting. So, I would like to join the United Nations Military.”
Duncan’s left eye twitched uncontrollably and a vein began throbbing on his temple. Gritting his teeth in a rictus of smile he turned his attention towards the siblings.
“And you two?”
Lucy whispered softly into her brother’s ear with Rollo shaking his head adamantly. Lucy’s face darkened as she continued to cajole and persuade her brother, but Rollo stubbornly shook his head sending his curly brown locks flying side to side.
Stepping past his sister Rollo spoke up, “I want to join the Army too.”
Lucy, with a furious glare towards Talmen growled, “Rolly, you dumb goat. You won’t survive in the army. You don’t even know how to fight.”
“Then I will learn, won’t I?”
Talmen, concerned Rollo was risking his life to stay by side, quickly piped in, “Listen Rollo, I appreciate all you’ve done for me really, but you don’t need to join the army. Your sister is right, you’re not a fighter.”
Rollo gave Talmen a wounded look, his mouth tightening angrily and his eyes becoming teary eyed, before storming off out of the hall.
Talmen moved to stop him, but Lucy blocked his path. “There’s no sense talking to him right now, he needs to cool off.”
Duncan’s nostrils flared with annoyance. “Well then?”
Lucy twisted around to face the Lieutenant. “Put me and my brother down as Rangers.”
Duncan nodded his head. “At least you have some sense, as for you…” He glared down at Talmen. “Get the fuck out of here and find Colonel Dipshit. He should be around here somewhere, tell him you’ve enlisted in the army.”
Talmen, with a forlorn look towards Lucy, waved farewell and left the hall.
He would miss their company, but perhaps it was for the best. Rollo was no fighter and Lucy for all her bluster was no killer. It had taken days of travelling with the pair of siblings to realize that Lucy’s words on the road were true about him. Fate had stained his hands with blood, so he would use the skills his father had taught him, that had kept him alive this long, and find his brother. He would run no more.
~ * ~
As the war host settled in for the night, Grul Han a warrior with no clan sat alone in his barren empty tent contemplating the whims of his God Sezrath, who had blessed him with great power, restored his arm, but had failed to protect him from the humans. A part of him knew it was foolish to blame the gods for his failure, but stubborn pride and anger at his own weakness ate away at him. He had underestimated the power of their toys and now his body was permanently deformed, melded with the armor he had worn into battle. He was no longer a clan WarChief. He was no longer an Orc. He was nothing. He should have died with the rest of his war pack, at least then he would have retained some semblance of honor. Angry and bitter with life, he slammed his huge fist into the hard surface of the earth repeatedly; until blood streamed from cracks in his knuckles.
The tent flap jerked open and Kozan swept inside. His bare chest oiled, sporting golden battle rings on his arms and blood markings on his cheek. “Blood of my kin, we need to speak, you’ve wasted enough time he
re.”
Han shied away from him. “Leave me be.”
Kozan lips twisted into a snarl of disgust and rage. Drawing a knife from his belt, he lunged at him, the blade scraping against his back, drawing a thin line of blood.
Filled with an incredible rage Grul Han reeled up to his full height, his eyes flashing between flame orange and blood red. He roared, “I said leave me be!”
Kozan spat at his feet. “Is this how you honor lord Sezrath?! Sezrath who blessed you with strength and skin beyond that of all Orcs!
“You shame me brother, and you shame your clan, tell me, where is your hunger for vengeance?!”
Han’s shoulders drooped, the fire in his eyes dying away. “Dead, I am no longer your brother, I am nothing.”
Kozan moved forward and placed his hands upon the Grul Han’s shoulders and gazed deep into his despairing eyes. “You are still alive for a reason brother! I believe Sezrath still has need of you! Why else would he have spared your life and not that of your war pack?!”
Grul Han’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he held his arms out to expose his scars. “What purpose is there left for a deformed freak like me?”
Kozan’s eyes flared furiously and his grip tightened, his arm muscles twitching with excitement. “Your purpose brother, your purpose is to restore the honor of our clan and cleanse our people of these heresies that defy Lord Sezrath.” Seeing the confusion written on his face, Kozan took him by the shoulders and led him outside into the night.
He sucked in a breath of fresh air and felt a soft breeze press against his body. Orc sentries in black plated obsidian armor patrolled the night, barely visible in the darkness. The night sky glittered with stars and smoke from the campfires. The night creatures that stalked the darkness were absent for now, but they were never far away.
Kozan flung his left hand out towards the half-breeds milling about outside the enclosed camp, in case the creatures of flame and shadow needed to be sated. “Look my brother, at what Togran Ka has reduced us too! Sniveling, weak pathetic creatures little better than the dirt we walk upon! He has forsaken the old ways and twisted our ancient battle traditions! He must be stopped! And his filthy half-breeds destroyed!”
Han shook his head at his words. “You are wrong Kozan. Togran Ka has saved us from annihilation and led us to many great victories, the clans would not stand for such a thing.”
Kozan smirked confidently, shadows dancing across his blood-stained cheek. “That is where you a wrong brother! I have spoken to the clan shamans and the WarChiefs! They too are worried for the future of our clans!”
Han scratched his bald scarred scalp still uncertain of his role in all this. “So why do you need me?”
Kozan eye’s flashed red and he whispered, “I need your war-hammer, brother! So that together, we will not only shame the Stone Skins in front of all the clans but cleanse our people of their heresy! Win and I will restore your title as WarChief and your honor!”
Grul Han’s face lit up with a ferocious desire. To be WarChief once more would mean he could see his family again and rejoin the clan. But what he hungered for most was the chance for vengeance, his blood cried out for it.
~ * ~
Whispers flew thick and fast around camp of a Duerza being called for a battle between the Stone Skins and Bone Splitters. A clan battle was meant to test the strength and resolve of the Stone Skins. Ka-gan had expected this would happen eventually, there were still many Orc’s who spoke out against his father’s changes to our traditions and rites. The loudest were the Shamans, who appeared every day in front his tent to berate his father. But despite his father complaining constantly about having to use human weaponry, he knew his father deep down admired the humans and would not stop using their technology. Maybe that’s why he himself had chosen to study and learn from them. He found there was much to learn from the humans, the tales he heard from Grolag spoke of towers that reached the heavens and weapons that could destroy whole war packs in a single blow. Collecting his war axe from the weapons rack, he slid the axe into his belt harness and pushed his way through the tent flap and out into the bright sunlight. He looked up into the sky and flexed his arm muscles. This would be a good day for fighting. Finished stretching his arms, he lumbered off in the direction of the great tent his father had set up for himself.
He found Takil outside the tent speaking with one of the Iron Skins that guarded his father’s pavilion. He bowed his head to her as he approached her. “Matron Mother.”
Seeing Ka-gan, Takil gave a nasty smile. “I see you have detached yourself away from your human friends, have you grown tired of them?”
Ka-gan gritted his teeth and politely smiled back replying, “No mother, there is still much to learn from them, I have come to speak with father.”
Takil stuck a finger in her mouth and bit down hard to release a dribble of blood, she then swiped the blood across her cheeks.
Recognizing the blood hunger spell, Ka-gan took a step back.
Takil seeing his fear threw back her head and cackled. After what felt like an age she stopped and looked down at him with flame orange eyes. “Have no fear Ka-gan, this is not for you, our clan has been summoned to attend a Duerza.”
His heart sank at the news. “So, the rumors are true. The Bone Splitters wish to usurp our position?”
Takil shook her head sending her black dreadlocks flying from side to side. “It is much worse than that, the shamans have called the Duerza, they wish to test your father’s faith, if he should lose…”
Then their entire clan will be wiped out of existence for dishonoring Lord Sezrath God of Death. Shivering he grasped his war axe by the handle and asked in hesitant voice, “When will the fight take place?”
Takil shrugged her shoulders and replied succinctly, “They have not said, all the WarChiefs and clan matrons must attend the Duerza that includes you as well.”
If the whole clan was challenged that meant he too would have to fight in the pit. If so, he doubted he would survive such a fight, while he had faith in his father’s skills as a warrior, his own were far more lacking. He had yet to wet his axe in battle and had not practiced with his axe for many months. He pulled the war axe from his harness and chopped the air a few times trying to remember the forms his father had taught him as a boy.
Takil watched him with a pensive face. “Tsk, tsk you have forgotten much, while studying the humans. You must lift your axe high above your head and swing downward in a spiraling arc.” She kicked his feet apart and took hold of his shoulders straightening them up. “Keep your feet spread and your shoulders high, so you strike with more power.”
Ka-gan swung a few more practice swings, before slipping the war axe back into his belt.
Takil shook her head sadly. “I fear you will not survive long in the pit, pray that Lord Sezrath is with us today, otherwise stay hidden behind your father.”
Ashamed of his weakness Ka-gan spun on his heels and fled. He ran back the way he had come racing towards the vehicles parked outside the camp, ignoring the stares of disgust from the Orcs he passed by. Finding a quiet spot he sat down beside one of the trucks and laid his back against the large wheel. He knew, he shouldn’t have run, especially with his father’s honor at stake today, but the pity he had seen in Takil’s eyes had been too much for him. Tears slid down his cheeks, his father was right about him, he was no true Orc and he was no Stone skin. Maybe spending too much time around the humans really had weakened him, if so it was too late for him now.
“Ahh, there you are Ka-gan.” Grolag wearing his usual musty grey robes walked into his line of sight holding something in his right hand.
Wiping the tears from his eyes he snapped, “What do you want?”
The old Orc’s face crinkled up into a smile. “Why to show you this of course?” He said and opened his right hand to show a small flat circular object resting in the palm of his hand with the words X-Pad printed in black letters along the rim.
His interest p
iqued Ka-gan stood up and asked, “What is it?”
Grolag smiled and squeezed the metal object in his hands and a square orange light filtered out.
Gaping with wonder he tried to touch the orange light, but his fingers went right through it. “What does it do?”
Grolag shook his head. “No idea, here take it, maybe it will bring you luck in battle.”
Ka-gan’s head shot up in surprise. “You know?”
Grolag nodded his head. “Most of the camp knows by now.”
Ka-gan took the object in his hands and the orange light disappeared. “Where did you find it?”
“One of the new human slaves had it on her, when she was captured.”
Black and red smoke burst into the sky above them spraying the clouds. Ka-gan tucked the object into his pocket and sighed heavily, “Guess it’s time.”
Grolag gazed into his eyes. “Keep moving and watch their feet.” Ka-gan nodded his head.
He walked slowly back towards the center of camp, where the black and red smoke was still billowing into the air. Half breeds and Orcs alike blocked his path, using his shoulders he pushed his way through into the mass of bodies pressed in together. The sweat and stench of a thousand unwashed bodies hit his nostrils hard and made him cringe. A few of the Orc’s recognizing Ka-gan moved aside to let him pass through, thrusting aside half breeds to create a gap for him. With a final heave, he broke free of the mass of bodies and stood in front of a large square pit dug into the earth. Shamans sat around the pit chanting and swaying with the rising smoke.
Togran Ka, Takil and Lorika stood opposite him on the other side of the pit in full obsidian plate armor. Seeing Ka-gan, Togran waved for him to join them, skirting the sitting shamans, he made his way over to them.
His father nodded his head. “Good, you’re here, maybe we can get this farce over and done with.”
Takil hissed, “This is no joke WarLord! And it’s not just your life at stake here!”