The arrows never stop flying. 


Crawling through the mud, you watch as unlucky comrades around you are caught in the volleys.  A grunt and a thud, in the trench in front of you one falls, reaching his hand out to you.  Crawling over to him you rip off his armor, trying to stop the bleeding.  Almost impossible with the arrow lodged in his chest, ripping it out would only kill him faster.


You sit there cradling him, trying to offer some small comfort in his final moments.  He tries to speak, but only a gurgling sound emerges as crimson red trickles out of the side of his mouth.  One final sigh and his whole body relaxes, his head falls back.  His glassy eyes stare at you, only seeing emptiness.


Placing him down, you continue to trudge through the mud.  Around you more have fallen, and will continue to fall.  A dark purple blast of energy flies overhead, frying some unfortunate.


You make a run for the trees.  Never running in a straight line, you start right, then dart left as you dive behind a tree.  A few arrows lodge themselves in the ground beside you. 


Damn elves.


You think back to how the elves had first come peacefully.  Offering promises of power and strength.  The orcs didn't want anything to do with them and their magic.  The next time the elves showed up; however, it was in force.  Looking to capture conscripts for their fight against the Empire.  The orcs wanted nothing to do with their war, but since the elves brought it to our doorstep, we had now come to retaliate. 


The elves, unable to fight a war on two fronts, were sure to crumble. 


But this all started four years ago.  Turns out elves have incredible resolve... which you intended to break.

You advance

Only a few miles ahead, you see the castle stronghold of the Wister Elves' king.  King Harribor, intent on delaying his final stand, hides behind his people.


Coward. 


He would let his enemies lay waste to his nation, rather than meeting his fate out on the battlefield.


By now, you've made your way to a ridge, behind which many orcs wait.  Across is another ridge, with orcs similarly stationed.  In between, dozens and dozens of orcs slowly advance: hiding in trenches, behind rocks, and amidst piles of dead comrades.  They will never make it through unless you buy them time. 


Ahead, the elves had constructed wooden walls and towers.  Each had slits and ramparts to shoot their arrows and blast their magic. 


Scanning the area, you see that the elve's defenses are strongest on their right flank. Perfect.  All you need to do is charge down the ridge and straight towards that tower. 


You grab an orc by the shoulder, he looks back grunting.


"See how strong their defenses are on the right?"


He peers out, grunting in acknowledgment.


"I need you all to string up, focus all of your fire in that region."


"Why? Their left is weakest."


"I know, I'm going to use that to our advantage."


You're about to leave when you pat his shoulder again.


"Try not to shoot me."


You backtrack down into the forest and see some lights coming from the trees.  The elves are watching their line closely.


Seeing multiple orcs in the darkness, you stop them.  They look at you inquisitively until you explain your plan.  They are eager to follow.


You move back behind the ridge, close to the front lines, careful to stay in the darkness.  Peering over the top you notice something new: a system of hidden trenches filled with elves.  They must be expecting the orcs to charge at any minute and are planning a surprise in the trenches.


You inspect the trench immediately below you.  It leads directly to the door of a tower.  You see an officer using a dimly glowing spyglass.  Near him, and scattered throughout the trenches, are wounded elves.  Some fit to fight, some are not, and yet they'll do it regardless.  You have to respect that at least.


You ready your bow, and sight an elf slumped against the trench wall.  Bloody bandages wrapped around his head, he holds his dagger and appears to be praying.  He looks almost like a child, several years younger than yourself. 


As you let loose, the rest do as well.  The elf gasps in surprise as the arrow pierces his chest.  You all fire several arrows, until each elf in front of you is pin-cushioned.


No one is walking away from this.  No one sounds an alarm.


Making your way through the trench to the nearest battlement, you ready your axe, short enough to be used with one hand but long enough for two.  You stand next to the tower door, inhaling deeply.

You tower

Thrusting your foot forward, the door bursts open, splinters hitting the wall directly behind.  You storm in as a bloodied elf staggers towards you.  His eyes widen in surprise as you plant the axe into his forehead.  Thick streaks of blood creep down his face as other orcs pour past you.  You pull the axe from the fallen foe with a satisfied grunt. 


As you enter the narrow hall, you see the wide eyes of many elves, their dead faces contorted in shock.  They... almost didn't see what hit them.


Leading the way once more, you rise up the stairs to the next landing, your movements hidden by the sounds of battle.  You recognize the twanging of arrows. 


"I hit one," one of the elves says, "Ha! Look at him squirming!"


Your face contorts in rage.  Raising your axe, you step out, and embed it into their officer's neck.  You've left your axe in another's shoulder and jammed an arrow into the eye of a third before they realize what's happened.  In an instant, the other orcs are upon them.


You ascend to the top of the tower.  Almost immediately, an elf with bandaged hands sees you and shouts a warning to his companions. 


You charge them, dodging arrows and bowling into them, knocking two over the edge, screaming.  The wounded one tries to bring down his sword, but you catch it between your hands.  Wrenching it away you toss the sword off the edge.


Snarling, you prowl towards the elf; he backs up, desperately swinging as you do so.  You duck a punch and wrap an arm around his neck as you slip behind him.  His hands bat and pull at your arms ineffectually. You squeeze tighter.  With a snap, his hands go limp.  You drop him.


Fucking stick, so damn weak.

You continuing

You duck down and go to the ledge, peering up and over a low wall.  Arrows are still flying; chaos everywhere.


"Come on, we have more towers to take out," you say.


You go to the other edge and wave to get the attention of the orcs at the ridge you left.  You signal them to storm the trenches from your side. 


By the time you've made your way down, the orcs have already flooded into the trenches.  As the enemy loses focus in the confusion, the rest of your comrades rush in from the center to surround them. 


The elves fight valiantly, refusing to surrender, which surprises you.  What is more surprising is that you are only able to kill a few before the orcs have completely decimated the rest.


You run forward to the walls watching over the trenches, where the elves are far up but their fear is visible.  All the trenches seem to lead to an underground tunnel system, with side rooms dug out for wounded and extra supplies. 


As you enter one of them you see a wounded elf on a cot.  His chest wrapped in bloody bandages, his breathing labored.  He might not even make it, although killing defenseless people is for the weak as far as you're concerned.

You mercy Kill

You approach the elf, stepping lightly.  As you draw your blade from you sheath he looks up at you.  His eyes widen and his breathing become faster.  He feebly tries to raise his arms, probably to ask for mercy.


Driving the sword through his recent wound, you press as the blood pours out and trickles down his side.  A short gasp escapes from his lips as his back and neck arches, his eyes widening before closing about halfway.  You pull your blade out and move forward.

Back to the tunnel

As you are about to run back into the tunnel, a loud sound erupts, shaking the ground.  You have to catch yourself against the wall.  After exchanging glances with the other orcs, you make your way forward through the tunnel, ever vigilant.


You reach an opening engulfed in flames.  Orcs scream burning or already lay still, flesh roasting.


You cringe as the putrid smell reaches your nostrils.  You get low to try to get a better view up a dirt ramp.  The explosive must have come from the wall. 


You dart to the side of the hall, thinking about what you should do.  You see some other orcs about to through the fiery opening.

You wait

You hold up your hand.


"Wait," you say.  "They could have more."


The room is deadly silent as everyone waits.  You hear more of those explosions, and orcs storming through the other trench tunnels. 


By now, it sounds like full on chaos out there.  At some point, you hear a scream and an elven body crunch against the ground just outside of the opening.


They must have taken the walls, or at least part of them by now.


You slowly approach the opening, axe in hand.  As you step out, you notice there are elves and orcs engaged in deadly combat everywhere.


 Several elves run straight towards you.  They're probably trying to seek refuge.  One of their face twists as they raise their arm.  A bright red bolt flies from his hand.  You barely have time to drop to the ground as the bolt slams into the wooden fixture right above the tunnel.


As small wood pieces shower your back, you notch an arrow to your bow.  You only stand up high enough for your arrow to be raised just above the ramp.  You exhale as you align the arrow with the closest of the elves, who are significantly closer now. 


You release the arrow, the elf who blasted at you staggering as it lands in his hip.  But he still runs forward, although now they all start blasting bolts of energy at you.  An orc to your right goes down, smoke rising from the wound on his chest.


You notch another arrow, a bolt passing right by you, and you shoot the next elf as another orc already finished off the first one you hit. 


Within moments, the group of elves are all dead, along with a few orcs around you. 


It seems that the orcs have gained the upper hand once again, superior strength and numbers.


You move out into the open with your group, quick to find somewhere less vulnerable.

You push

Many of the orcs loot the treasures, weapons, and trophies from the elf bodies.  You cross your arms and lean against some supply shed. 


A horse gallops over to a group of orcs, in the middle of them is an orc chief.  The orc scout on horseback frantically starts speaking.


"The elves! They're closing in on us, we're right in the middle of their line, we'll be surrounded," he yells. 


It would only be a matter of time before they cut off the opening to their king.


Sifting through the orcs, you eventually find the orc chief in charge of the battle, who seemed to have dismissed the scout.


"Chief," you say, "we need to push further."


"Yes, yes, I'm aware."  He sort of shrugs you off, while some other kiss ass orcs hand him some trinkets.


 "You heard him, we're in the middle of their line, we could easily get caught in a pincer movement.  Probably surrounded too."


The orc chief laughs.


"Let them come, they won't stand a chance."


Your eyes widen, this fool would let your brethren die rather than end this it seems.


Grunting, you rip the horn fastened to his belt.  He glares at you, stepping forward.  You see his hand lightly resting on his sword handle.

You reason with him

Looking at the horn in your hands, you realize you may have made a mistake.


"I'm not gonna sit here while you get them all killed," you say.  "We need to move now, while we have an opening to their king."


The chieftain's eyes dart to the side as he considers what you have said.


He chuckles.


"You are a bold one, and you're right."  He says this as he walks up to you, and he pushes you to the side as he grabs the horn from your hand.


"But I can't let this disrespect stand."


He keeps walking as he blows the horn, rallying the orc armies.  As he calls for them to push forward, you hear something sliding behind you.


Whipping around, you are just in time to sidestep a sword blow, which would have cleaved your head apart. 


You grab the orcs forearm, quick to twist his arm and steal his sword.  He falls to one knee grunting in pain, and you kick him in the face, knocking him over.


The other four orcs in the chieftains entourage all draw their weapons as they try to surround you.  All the while you are moving, back, left, right, where ever you have to go to keep the foremost ones in front of you and keep the others from surrounding you.


One finally lurches forward, slicing open your shin.  Ignoring the searing hot pain, you leap forward, your sword biting into his neck.  His body relaxes and he slumps forward, not quite dead yet but on his way there.


Another orc rushes forward, trying to bury his axe into your head.  You simply pull the dying orc in front of you, the axe burying into his back.


You let the orc fall, as the weight of him doesn't allow the other orc to pull his axe out.  It instead slips from his fingers.  His hand goes for his dagger, but before he can do anything else, your stolen sword is buried in his chest.


With a grunt you push it the rest of the way through, all the way to the hilt, specks of his warm blood spattering your arms and chest.  The orc's mouth gapes and quivers as his arms flail in his death throes, patting your arms as his hands slide off your forearms. 


The remaining two orcs have already started charging.  One leaps over the dying orc, almost hacking into your shoulder.  You get a lucky dodge, this time drawing your real sword.


The other one comes from your side, intent on plunging his spear into your side.  You knock the spearhead away, sliding the blade along the shaft, until you reach his hand.  You simply pull your blade back real quick, then with a quick chop severing his fingers.  He cries out in pain, turning into a gurgling as you slash your sword across his throat.


The last orc, and probably the most resourceful.  Pulls up a small shield from his side, frisbee whipping it at you.  It hits your raised forearm, leaving a stinging mark on your arm.


As you step back, the other orc tucks and rolls, grabbing the spear.  As he raises into a kneel, he lurches the spear forward.  It buries into your waist, burning hot pain shoots through.  You roar in pain as he rips it out.  This time he aims right below your throat, but you manage to knock it aside.


In the same motion, you pull up your axe, throwing it with surprising dexterity.  The orcs head kicks back, then slowly slumps forward.  One of his eyes stares at you, the other looks off at a weird angle.  He falls, the axe handle stopping his face from hitting the ground.


Sighing, you limp over, pulling your axe out of his forehead.  As you look around, you realize some orcs had gathered to cheer you on.  They didn't seem to want to get involved in case you deserved it, and they didn't know what you were even fighting about but seemed entertained nonetheless.


They pat you on the back for wrecking four orcs, and one even offers to help you clean and bandage your wound.  Which you gladly accept...


Some hard alcohol and stitches later, your leg and stab wound are securely patched up.  You just have to be careful not to reopen or aggravate the wound.


Having missed the initial rush, you are stuck moving with the supply wagons, with all the old, lame, or wounded orcs.  You do manage to hitch a ride, also being offered some fresh cooked beef.  A delicatessen you haven't had since months ago.


You decide to get some shut-eye on your way to the front...

You king Harribor's Stand

The past few days have been spent sieging the elven King's last safe harbor.  All the fields, villages, and towns outside of the castle having been swept up by the armies of orcs.


Somewhere behind the main army, detachments of orcs have been held back to keep the elven lines from closing in.  You've heard they fight with desperation at the thought of losing their king.  They've gained almost a mile since yesterday, but the orc rearguard has finally managed to hold their ground.


You sit on a hill, drinking whiskey as you watch the orcish reserves moving about the moats and trenches, trading arrows with the elven defenders.


You had spent the previous nights routing out and destroying the surrounding elf units.  You've finally been convinced to reserve your strength as you sit against a tree with some trusted orcs.


To your left a huge swath of trees fall.  Tensing up a bit, you see large wooden catapults being forced out of the trees.  Followed by columns of heavily armored elven knights.


Preparing to warn the orcs, you bolt up onto your feet, as do your friends.  As you run down the hill you notice something odd.  The insignia on their flags are different from the Wistern elves' flag.  Instead of a yellow flag with red shield, it is a black flag with a red dragon.


These might be the Velaneer elves.


You hop on a horse, galloping over to them with a dozen or so other orcs.  The rest prepare to defend their lines. 


You stop out of spear or bolt range of the columns, they don't appear to have any archers with them yet, so that won't be an issue.


You call out.


"Who are you? And what business do you have here?"


What appears to be an officer steps forward.  You don't realize the elf is a woman until it speaks.


"My name is Valek, Captain of the Velaneer assault brigade.  You are?"


"Nolazir."


"Rank?"


"I'm... I just kill things."


"Any generals?"


"No, we have some chiefs though." you say.


"And?... Where are they?" She asks getting clearly annoyed.


"Off sieging King Harribor's last defense... or drunk somewhere."


"You'll have to do." Valek says this as she strides toward you and your horse.


You hop off and go to meet her.  Her hair is the gold blonde that most elves of her nation seem to have, and her eyes are a deep green.  They would almost be beautiful.....if she wasn't an elf.  You almost can't look away, but you manage to break eye contact.  Looking down her face to her lips, which seem to come up to a slight pout.  She slowly smiles, some twinkle in her eye.


"Seems like you really are doing a great job breaking into the castle." She says haughtily.


"We're trying to starve them out," you say.


She sighs.


"They're elves, they can magically grow food in their castle gardens, and when they run out of ammunition they'll probably start throwing magic bolts at you."


You grunt, not having thought of this.  Valek chuckles.


"You orcs are always getting caught with your dicks in your hands."


You look down at your fur and leather pants, no dick in sight.  Fearing this was a ruse, you grunt and look up at her, but she isn't trying to fry your face off. 


"We kinda did have a plan, the moat is the issue," you say.  "We were gonna tunnel under the fort, but that would probably just flood."


"Have you tried just knocking?" She smirks.


You look over to the drawbridge, covered in arrows.


You look back at her and shake your head.


"Too dangerous."


"Well, you have some brains... for an orc." Valek chuckles.


She is about to say something but you interrupt her.


"We were thinking of finding a way to just barge straight in.  They must have a weakness somewhere."


"They probably have a secret tunnel system, most elven fortresses do."


Now it is your turn to act like a snob.


"Don't you think if they did they would have taken their king to safety?" you say, mimicking her haughty attitude.


"Besides," you say resuming your normal tone, "we already caved in their tunnel system."


"What? Why didn't you just use that to get in?"  She starts getting angry.


"Too small, and we lost too many orcs trying to get in.  Better to collapse and kill all the elves inside."


She looks over to the wall, observing the battle taking place. 


"We have a plan to get through," you say.  "We just need more time."


You show her some of the wooden "machinations" you and the orcs have been working on.  They are wooden constructs, each with a front wall with a small window and handles, there is a small roof to protect against arrows, and the side walls are dipped to allow archers to fire from the side.  Each one can protect half a dozen orcs and are operated by three pushing, which would turn the wheels on the front and sides, and three archers firing from the front and sides respectively.


"We call them siege breakers.  Should get us close enough to take those doors down," you say as you stand behind one, the roof part at least a good foot above your head.  A dozen or so elves could probably fit behind one of these.


"I have to say," she smirks, "I'm impressed Nolazir.  But are you sure you'll be able to get through to the walls, even with these?"


"Valek, that's where you come in," you say.  "We need you to barrage them with your catapults, and your... magic blast things. Once they are beaten down, we can get in."


She nods, taking a moment to look at the defenders scrambling up on the walls, they seem to be massing more out of their reserves in response to this elven nations arrival.


You decide to spend the rest of the day with Valek and other elvin and orcish leaders planning out how to break the siege of King Harribor's castle.

Three Days Later...

You grunt as you push, gripping the handle of the siege breaker you take shelter behind.  Arrows embed themselves into the front and top of it.  Far ahead, the catapults snap as they fire off, sending stones into the wall. 


The orc next to you chuckles as a stone shatters part of the wall, and several elves fall to their dooms below. 


Looking behind you, Valek watches as you push the siege breaker.  She sticks her thumb up at you and smiles, and not being sure what to do, you smile and raise your middle finger.  She looks surprised for a second and looks away to the catapult.


"Idiot!" the orc next to you yells.  "Elves don't make jokes!"


Nodding in acknowledgment of this wisdom, you continue to push the machine.  A horn blares behind you.  Valek stands with a catapult into position right behind you and orders it to fire.  You and the other orcs all cringe as the projectile soars overhead.


With a huge crash, the missile breaks through the castle gate, shattering it and sending splinters flying all over. 


You nod at Valek, who smiles and raises her middle finger at you.


Drawing your sword and axe, you give a mighty cry and lead the charge through the gate.  The elves on the walls scramble to either rush to the gate or shoot down on the orcs, but your elven allies blast them with energy bolts, either killing or suppressing them.


As you burst through the opening, dozens of elves wait, swords in hand.  One tries to hack you, but you simply knock it away with your sword and slice his knee with your axe, running it across his belly next as he falls to a kneel.  He tries to keep his guts from spilling out, but you manage to slice his throat, only a gurgle escaping as he falls to the ground.


You throw yourself into a group of elves, fighting through them with a new ferocity along with your comrades…

You revenge

With the castle in sight, the orc army pushes forward, as the elves follow up and support them.  From the castle, a large brigade of elves come flowing through.  They are lead by an elf in leather black armor, and a large sword for an elf of his stature.  From here, you can see his hair is raven black,  much like the orcs, but he is full elf, with one blue eye and one green eye.  A nasty scar crawls across his face.


As the orcs and elves meet, chaos ensues, from the houses and shops the windows burst open, energy blasts shooting out and killing elves and orcs alike.  More of the elves flood in from a side street, blindsiding the orcs.


You barely manage to dodge an axe to the head, before lopping off your foes arm.  You and another orc move through, watching each other's backs and cutting down elf after elf.




 

You hear a grunt and a heavy sigh. Turning, you see the orc you were fighting with sinking to the ground, a smaller axe buried in his chest. Ahead you see the culprit. The chief from before chuckles as he draws his sword. "So you managed to survive, pretty impressive," he says, "my son and I have a bone to pick with you though." Coming up to his side you see an orc, who looks familiar. Then you remember, he was the orc whose sword you stole. You kicked him in the face and knocked him out, you should have gone back to kill him. Oh well, time to handle this now. The two orcs begin to circle you, the younger seeming eager to rush in. The older content with biding his time. The chief's son rushes in suddenly, he is quick and strong, but stupid and sloppy. You parry a downward blow, raking your axe blade across his thigh. He stumbles as he steps to the side, but manages to stop you from burying your sword into his neck. He swings at your neck, and, stepping back, you slice down into his chest, quickly retracting. He grunts in pain, blood oozing down from his wound. You hear something behind you… Turning, you duck under a strike that surely would have decapitated you. As you pivot, you run your sword along his side, and finishing you bury the axe blade behind his knee. As he falls you loop the axe around and over your head, about to bring it down for the final blow... Something stops you, the chief's son had leaped over, barring you with his sword. His other hand grips the blade, pushing your axe up. His face straining as you both struggle, genuine concern for his father on his face. With your other hand, you drive the sword through him. His brows furrow and his mouth gapes slightly, a small choked cry of pain escapes his lips. As you step back, you pull the sword out of him. Backing up several steps, you watch as the chief pulls himself up to kneel over his son. You can't hear what, but you see the chief's lips moving as he talks to his son. The son tries to speak, and the chief leans in to hear one last whisper before his son goes limp. Turning to you, rage is blazing in his eyes. He moves quickly despite his injuries, and almost bowls you over. You manage to roll out of the way, his sword striking the ground where you stood. In almost the same movement he turns, almost cleaving you in half. You try to chop him with your sword, but he buries his blade in the handle, pulling against the hilt as the sword is pulled from your hand. Gasping, with sweat running down your body, you attempt to chop his arm. The chief roars as he catches the axe by the shoulder, kicking you as he pulls it from your grip. Panting, you crawl back, trying to reach his son's sword. But you are too far, and the chief is too fast. He steps in, looping the sword around his head and raising it for the killing strike. Something pale blue hits his chest, emitting a pop and smoke, sizzling heard from the wound on his chest. He looks up as he staggers back, accidentally lowering the sword. Two more bolts slam into him, causing him to reel back and fall to the ground. Smoke rising from his body, and he lays still.

You rescued

You roll onto your side, to see Valek standing with her arm outstretched.  As you stand, she runs over to you.


"Nolazir, are you okay?"


"Yeah, I'm fine," you grunt.


"What were those guys trying to kill you for anyway?" 


"Orc dispute.  I didn't like his leadership, and they tried to kill me.  Twice now."


You gather your weapons and take a second to gather your breath.  The battle seems to have turned for the orcs. 


Valek turns and pats you on the back.


"You alright? You didn't get tired from fighting a couple of orcs now did you?"


"I thought elves didn't joke?" you say.


"Now where did you hear that?"  She raises an eyebrow.


"Uhh, nevermind," you grunt.


You both watch as the orcs make their way through up to the front of the castle.


"So, where exactly are you from?" you ask.


"The Velaneer Kingdom," she says.  "Only the best of the best."


"I know where you are from, but what did you come from?"


"Well, you may be surprised to hear it, but I'm actually from a family of peasant farmers."


"Can't you elves use your magic to grow stuff."


"We can, which I guess made it easier.  But we still needed to make a living, and the Kingdom needs a food supply."


"Aren't you elves all fancy? I couldn't imagine what elven peasants would look like."


"No, those are probably just common myths.  While we do hold ourselves to a higher standard than all other races, we're not all getting fat off the spoils of the kingdom."


"So what are you doing here?" you ask.


"I thought I could do better for my people than growing grapes and tomatoes, so I became a soldier.  Surprised to say I rose through the ranks pretty quickly and found myself here."


"So you weren't happy with the life of a peasant, I get that."


"So, Nolazir, what about you?" Valek asks.


"Hold on," you grunt.  "We're pushing through."


Ahead, the orcs seem to have breached the castle.  Valek follows behind you, noticing that you are somewhat pissed at not being in the front of the fray.

You castle Fall

You pass over the bodies of the fallen, some horribly mangled, some looking almost peaceful laying on the ground.  You see an elf and orc tangled up, the orc's hands wrapped around the elves neck, whose eyes are bulging from his skull.  The orc still has a snarl frozen on his face, multiple dagger wounds on his ribs and back, with the elves hand still gripping the dagger.


As you enter the castle hall with Valek, the sounds of combat echo throughout the halls.


Eventually, you make your way through the main hall, littered with the corpses of elves and orcs.  Throughout all of this, you don't see the corpse of the elf with the two different colored eyes.


The large golden doors to the King's chamber stand ajar.  Holding your axe tightly, you step over to the door.  You signal Valek as you get ready to open the door, and she preps to blast a bolt of magic.


A shuffling sound and a groan come out from behind the door.  You give Valek a sideways glance, and she nods.  Throwing the door open, you step back and tighten your grip on your axe.  Valek raises her hand...


In front of you, an orc shuffles towards you, his body covered in deep gorges, cuts, and burn wounds.  In his hand is the head of an elf, which he holds by his long hair.  Behind the orc the rest of the body lays in a golden robe, covered in wounds and with a bloody sword next to it.


The orc stops in front of you, throwing King Harribor's head to the ground, where it rolls to your feet.  The King has one blue eye and one green eye. 


The orc's mouth quivers slightly as he tries to say something, but he just falls forward.


You kneel next to him, feeling his pulse, but he is dead. 


As the fighting in the rest of the castle recedes, dozens of elves come retreating into the chamber pursued by orcs, only to stop short at seeing the elf king's corpse. 


You watch as the elves stare in shock, one of them, rather old for an elf draws his sword.  You reflexively ready your axe.  But the elf drives it through his own chest, gritting his teeth in pain as he pushes it in deeper before falling.


Several of the elves follow suit.  The rest, seemingly galvanized start firing bolts at the orcs, in a moment you see one heading straight for Valek.


You grab her, throwing her behind the door as the bolts fly by.  Several manage to miss you as you throw her to safety.  You turn to throw the axe, but the orcs have already overrun the remaining elves and have butchered them. 


You just watch the carnage as you call Valek out. 


"You didn't have to do that, you know," she says.


"Eh, it just seemed like the right thing to do."


You and her walk out onto the king's castle balcony.  Some elves stop her to ask her some questions about prisoners and the remaining soldiers in the forests and hills.  While she talks to them you step through the curtain.

You balcony

It's a beautiful sight, the sun setting over the trees and the hills.  The orange and purple rays playing over the horizon. 


Casting your glance down, gruesome corpses lay all around the castle yard and surrounding houses and buildings.  Elves and orcs alike plunder and loot the corpses and treasures of the elven kingdom's capital. 


Outside, the elves move their catapults and shift columns of soldiers who got to sit and watch the battle.  Somewhere to the left, you see allies moving in large groups of prisoners.  Word of King Harribor's death spread quickly.


The curtain ruffles, and Valek steps out beside you.


"So, Nolazir, are you going to be staying around for a while?" Valek asks.


"Hmm, yeah, just long enough to organize some things. What about you?"


"Uhh, yeah I was planning on staying for a bit.  Lots of prisoners to secure and people to move around."


"Great," you say.  "I'm sure I'll see you around then."


Valek wrinkles her nose, looking out at the carnage below.


"Sometimes, I wonder if it was all worth it," she says.  "So many people killed, and for what?"


"I don't know why you elves started fighting each other, but they came to us making promises of strength and power.  They thought we would be too short-sighted to see what they were trying to do."


Valek nods.


"They showed up in force, and we responded with greater force," you say.


"We had our reasons, but I just don't know what the point of it all really was," Valek says as she leans against the railing.


"Sure, the Wister elves were at odds with us, but these past few years, we made so many sacrifices. "


"It wasn't all in vain," you say, "they sacrificed to secure a better future.  You might not see it now, but King Harribor was getting too bold, too greedy.  He was putting you and us in jeopardy."


"Hmm, we will see about that," she says.


You both stop talking for a moment, and after a few seconds you look over to find her just looking at you.


"What's with the staring?" you ask raising an eyebrow.


"I don't know, there's just something I like about you."


You take a step toward her, and, even though she is an elf, there is something you like about her too.  You put your hand on the back of her head, pulling her in as you lean in.  Her lips are much softer than an orc woman's. 


She puts her hand on your shoulder as she begins to reciprocate…

You later...

You lay on your bed of blankets and pillows.  Valek is snuggled up next to you, her hand resting on your chest, your arm wrapped around her lower back and resting between her hip and stomach.  Her body very warm against yours.


"I hope no one heard us," she says.


"Screw 'em if they did."


"Well, this was a fun little experiment," she says.  "Too bad we won't have time for more of this."


You grunt in response to which she lightly slaps your chest.


"What's 'mrmmph' supposed to mean?"


You grunt.


"Are you going to talk to me," she asks, "or are you going to keep being weird?"


You grunt in response.


Valek rolls over and grunts... to which you also grunt, causing her to grunt once again.


Valek laughs and snuggles closer to you. 


"You're pretty funny for a big ugly orc.  I'll miss you, I think."


"And you're not such a pretentious snob... for an elf."


You close your eyes and hold her close, knowing that this won't last long and you will soon have to return to your homelands…

You prologue Closing

The Wister Empire had fallen, allowing the elves and orcs to return to their homes at long last.  In the coming years, relative peace would fall over the orcs, but a storm was forming over the horizon…

You chapter 1:Rising

Six years later...


The sun casts its golden rays over the blessed lands of Orcin, the blue sky showers the soft grass in its jubilee.  The rivers run freely, the animals roam, and the people are happy.


The villages and tribes have recovered well from the four years of grinding combat with the elves.  The Wister Elf nation has been absorbed into the Empire; the Imperial governor of the old nation has turned it into a labor force for the Empire.  From what you have heard they have been sending a surplus of weapons, wagons, and even domestic equipment to their allies.


A loud wailing sound pierces the silence you had lost yourself in.  The baby cradled in your arm cries out, demanding attention.  You rock the child in your arm, murmuring an old orcish lullaby. 

A little orc girl of three years waddles over and pats your knee. 


"Dad, can I hold Lagrik?" she asks.                    


"No, Vokra, I'm just getting him back to sleep," you say.  "You can play with him later."


Vokra walks off to pout but is soon distracted by her brother, Grovlar, who seems to have found a baby snake to play with. 


It's been a long six years.


They've been filled with blessings though.  Your wife and children are all healthy and strong, your humble farm yields healthy crops.  The animals are all in good condition, and you have nothing you would consider a real problem. 


A quick pinch to your belly reminds you that you have gotten a little soft in these past few years.  While you are still strong as an orc should be, it has been a while since you've actually had to do any vigorous work for extended periods of time. 


Well, other things call in the life of an orc.  You hand the infant to your wife, as you go to chop up some more firewood for the coming night along with other chores that need to be done.


You raise the axe, cleaving the piece of wood in half…


 

Later in the day, you sit by the fire with your wife snuggled beside you.  The children all snore gently in their beds of animal furs.  Gilikia cradles the baby as he whimpers softly. 


As you sit, you wonder how Valek is doing, if she is even alive.  You haven't heard from her since you left the Wister Kingdom.  More than likely she has probably moved on with the life of a soldier in search for something else, as most tend to do.

The Next Day

It's been a productive day.  You've made sure the crops have adequate water, your animals are well fed and some are ready to be slaughtered soon. 


The sound of hooves hitting the dirt causes your ear to prick.  Looking over your shoulder, you see two orcs on horseback. 


One you recognize as Rolomag, a few years younger than you and being the son of your cousin's sister in law.  Something like that anyway.  His hair tied up in a bun, similar to what many of the orcs seem to prefer these days, and his face clean shaven. 


The other one you don't quite recognize, a little orc boy.  About ten years of age.


"Nolazir," the older orc says, "we need to talk."


"Alright, come in," you say.  "And whose kid is this?"


"Huh? That's my little brother, Rolzagir."


You nod.


The two brothers hop down off the horse, the older handing the reigns to the younger, who goes to tie the horse to a post.


The other orcs in your village live pretty spread out, as everyone farms or at least owns some livestock. 


"So what's going on Rolomag?" you ask, sitting down on a wooden log.


Rolomag sits down as his brother walks over and leans against your house. 


"Dekard spotted some Imperial patrols hovering near the border," Rolomag says.  "We think they are preparing to come through."


"For what?" you say.  "They already took the elves.  What do they want with us?"


"Resources, food, animals, us… Hell if I know."


Rolomag stands up.


"Anyway, the village is meeting up to see what we're going to do about this."


"Is there really anything we can do?" you ask.  "Maybe they just want to protect their border. I wouldn't put it past some of the border tribes to be raiding people on Imperial lands."


"You think that's the case?"


"If it is, we need to stop them before the Empire takes it out on all of us."


You stand and go to your horse.


"No point in waiting around."


You, Rolomag, and Rolzagir all ride off to meet with all the other orcs.

You village Meeting

All the orcs stand around a giant tree in the village center, waiting for your chief, Greusim, to speak.  He stands on a flat rock, looking over everyone.


Greusim has the raven black hair that all the orcs have, the sides shaved into a mohawk, with the back end running down to his upper back.  White hairs scattered throughout his majestic hair.  His face aged and wrinkled, giving him the appearance of a grumpy bulldog, and two sharp teeth protrude up from his under bite, a common trait among orcs. 


For a moment you and he look at each other, his left eye always perpetually half closed, making him look vexed.  Although the chief is one of the calmest orcs you have ever met.


"Everyone," he starts, "it has come to my attention that the Imperials are amassing warriors by the borders between our lands."


He spreads his arms out.


"These very lands that have been our home since Gigalak gave it to the First Born."  He pauses for a moment.  "We need to make sure these lands are protected, for the well being of all orcs, ourselves, and future generations. "


Some of the orcs start calling out for blood, to which Greusim shakes his head.


"No, we must watch what the Empire does, we cannot go out looking for a fight.  Not this time, we must try to avoid conflict.  Now, I will personally lead an expedition team to the border, and we will see what the Imperials are doing.  There will likely be other tribes of orcs doing likewise, but if they fight the Empire, we will not interfere."


"What happened to all that shit about sticking together?!" an orc cries angrily.


"We will only fight if they attack us first, we will not be the ones to start a war with the Empire.  It would be deadly, and very long if we did so."


You all talk amongst each other.  According to chief Greusim, this could be a very precarious situation.  You call out.


"What if they are protecting their borders from orcs raiding Imperial lands?" you ask.  "You know what some of the tribes are like."


If you could even call them that, some groups of orcs aren't even proper tribes.  Just bands of raiders, thieves, and scum.


"If that is the case," the chief says, "we will let them know they do not act on behalf of all of Orcin.  Maybe, we would even help the Empire fight them on behalf of the rest of the tribes."


There is arguing amongst the orcs.  The orcs have banded together to fight external threats, but never with a foreign power to fight other orcs.  The affairs of orcs have always been kept to the tribes of orcin.


Helping the Empire fight fellow orcs, no matter if they are scum, would be crazy.


"So, my friends," Greusim says, "who will aid me on this quest."


Many hands go up, the chief peering through the crowd to see who would be best.


You wonder if you should raise your hand, the expedition might call for experience and expertise, which you would have.  On the other hand, you also don't really want to leave your family for an extended period of time.  While Gilikia is strong and hard-working, two kids, an infant, and a multitude of chores would be difficult for her to handle by herself.  Also, there is the fact that someone may need to run the village in Greusim's absence, which is also something you would be willing to do.

You raise Your Hand

You raise your hand, the chief's eyes widening slightly and a small grin creeps across his face.  Seems like he was hoping you would join.  The chief starts calling out names, yours and Rolomag's among them.


The other orcs shuffle off at the command of Greusim.  You go off towards your house, to prepare for the expedition.

You expedition

With your supplies ready, you've said your goodbyes to your family and ride over to the village center, where three dozen orcs have gathered. 


Greusim nods his head towards the mountains, leading the group forward.  You ride on for the whole day, passing streams, rivers, fields, and forests.


After some days you come to the foot of the mountains.  On the other side of this lies the border between Imperial lands and Orcin.


Rolomag  cuts you a look, raising his eyebrows and gesturing towards the mountains.  You wonder why he seems annoyed by the mountains, as he knew you would be traversing them.

You mountain Trail

The howling wind's cruel bite pierces your fur and leather clothing.  It takes the dying leaves from the trees with it, spiraling down to the depths below.  Crags point out accusingly, and cliffs dare you to come too close. 


You all ride in a single file line, making sure your horses don't slip and fall to certain doom below.


Somewhere above, something skitters along the rocks.  There is nothing to be seen up there, very strange.  Could just be some mountain critters going about their day.


Finally, after a whole day of moving painstakingly slow, you get off the steep paths of doom.  Ahead the road is far wider, and there is vegetation and pools of water for the horses.  Stopping the horses to rest, you all huddle behind the chief as he looks out from the mountain.


The mountain curves down into a valley, and even below that are the great forests guarding Orcin.  Miles and miles of trees, and eventually you can see large Imperial cities interspersed throughout the forests, hills, mountains, and plains in the distance.  To the right, past a large river, are huge plains that are home to the more nomadic orc tribes, as well as the vagabond types roaming Orcin.


"Beyond this mountain, where the First Born was created, the Empire seeks out our land," Greusim says while he takes in the fresh mountain air, gesturing to the forests and plains below.


"We will give them a warm welcome, or a bloodbath," Greusim says. "It's their choice."


The group rests there for the night, leaving guards to watch out for wild creatures or individuals who would do harm.


The next few days are full of eventful walks down the mountain. 


Soon, the path to the valley is in sight.

You through the Valley

Silence.  No wind.  No talking.


You all sit on your horses, staring into the valley.  Ahead, what appears to be scattered remains of tents and campfires lay around. 


As you advance towards the deserted campground, your eyes dart back and forth, to every rock and every tree.  Something doesn't quite feel right here.


As you ride through the camp, you notice some of the tents seem to have been ripped open.  There aren't any bodies or anything, and by the camp's design, it belonged to some orcs.


On the ground is a tattered blanket, pinned under a tent stake, and almost blowing in the wind.  Hopping off the horse, you look underneath it.  A dagger made out of bone and hide sits under it, dark red blood sticking to the blade.


You hold it over your shoulder, showing it to the chief, who takes it in his hand. 


"Something definitely came through here," he looks into the trees above, "but what?"


"Nothing I want to find out about," Rolomag says, much louder than he should.


You put a finger to your lip, looking up to the trees.  They sway in the wind, maybe carrying something deadly within them.


You're not sure, but for a moment it sounds like something is whispering to you from the trees.


Greusim signals the group to mount up and move on, which you do gladly. 


You all gallop out of the valley, and into the forests ahead.

You first Encounter

With the strange campsite far behind you, the group seems to be more at ease.  The forest is much more serene and offers some peace and quiet.


A stream trickles by, as your horse steps over it, you hear some sounds up ahead.


Greusim looks over his shoulder at the group behind him, and you nod at him. 


You, Greusim, Rolomag, Dekard, and some other orcs all leave your horses to go scout ahead.  The main group waits for your return.


The unmistakable sounds of violence penetrate your ears.  Peering from the foliage, you see two things.  The first must be Imperial soldiers, with their flat top helms and robes over what appears to be some kind of silver coat.


Cowards. The orcs only use some padding from their leather armor and sometimes studs.  Anything more would just weigh a warrior down and keep him from being effective. 


From what you can see, they have two separate lines of archers by the trees, and in the clearing between them are soldiers on horseback.  Ahead, on a rocky hill, a group of orcs seems to be holding their ground, trading arrows with the Imperial archers.  Once in a while, an orc taking a shot at one of the horsemen, but always missing.


In between two groups lays a slain Imperial, a spear in his back, and a dead orc with the spear still gripped in his hands.  The orc has several arrows protruding from his back.  Judging by his face paint, it looks like these orcs are one of the lawless bands of orcs.


"We need to help them," Rolomag says as he starts forward.


You grab him by the shoulder, pulling him back.


"Stop. We don't know who started it," you say. "This isn't a proper orc tribe.  They're just some vagabonds."


"Does it matter? They're still orcs," Rolomag says.


"No, Nolazir may be right," Greusim says. "We should let the Imperials know they aren't working on behalf of all of orcin."


"Are you really going to listen to this?" Rolomag asks. "Nolazir, the Empire won't care either way.  They will blame all of us."


"No, we can make peace with them," Greusim says.


Greusim looks at you.


"You believe me, don't you, Nolazir?"


Chief Greusim looks genuinely concerned about whether or not you believe him or not.  You look to Rolomag, he raises an eyebrow, not lifting the scowl on his face for a moment.

You talk to the Imperials

"We will talk to them," you say. "We can't achieve peace through war, not this time."


"Thank you, friend," Greusim says.


With this, Greusim leads you all over to the Imperials.  You all move slowly, hands in sight, and with Greusim several feet ahead.  The Imperial knight ahead jerks his head back as he sees your group.  The other horsemen seem alarmed, but ultimately don't do anything.


"Friends," Greusim calls out, "we have come to tell you, those lawless do not act on behalf of Orci-"


To this day, no one knows where it came from, if it was a stray arrow from the lawless orcs meant for an Imperial knight or an Imperial archer who was too hasty in his actions, but everyone knew it was what started one of the largest conflicts in the history of Velis Brum. 


Greusim gasps, an arrow piercing his side.  Crimson red oozes out of the wound soon after.  With a roar, the other orcs charge forward in rage.


"Wait," Greusim wheezes out, trying to compose himself.


In response, the Imperials charge forth, ready to fight the orcs.  The knight who had first seen your group holds his hand out, signaling the other knights.


"No, stop," he commands. 


But the knights just keep charging, and the two groups embroil in deadly combat.

You fight the Horsemen

Looking between the groups, you and the knight find each other.  He still seems shocked, having tried to stop his men from attacking.  As you both make eye contact, you nod at him.  Both of you share a resigned look, but know this must be done.


You draw your sword, and the knight does likewise.  He holds the sword in front of his face, putting his forehead to the hilt for a moment before readying it to fight.  You both spur your horses forward.

You charge

As you get closer to him, you arc your sword over your head, aiming for his neck.  The Imperial soldier slams it away with the flat of his blade and, mid-push, brings his blade back down.  The sword cuts through your thick leather armor, biting into your shoulder.


You wince and grunt as he pulls his sword, the both of you passing each other and turning in preparation to charge again.  Behind him, you see that the orcs seem to have pushed the Imperial horsemen back a bit, and the orcs on the hill have wounded several archers in each column. 


The battle is going well enough for the orcs. 


As you charge the Imperial knight again, you consider your next move.

You slice through him with your sword

As you ride forward, you prepare to slash into his neck again.  You pull the sword over the opposite shoulder of the hand it's in.  As the Imperial gets closer, you go for a vicious swing.


He twists his wrist, blocking it near the hilt, pushing your sword up.  As your blade slides off his, the knight arcs the deadly weapon over his head the opposite way.  As you pass each other he swings his sword back.


Your mouth gapes open as the tip of the blade digs into your back, cutting across the length of your back.  It notably severs your spine.  As your horse trots forward you feel a numbness creep from your waist and through your legs. 


As the horse starts to turn, you begin to feel dizzy, the numbness spreading through the rest of your body.  You see the knight watching you, his sword at the ready.  You don't even realize that you've fallen off your horse, the numbness finishing spreading through your body.


Then, an eternal night.