The Song of Crogg Axeshard

Featuring Crogg
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===I:===
A cold, dead, winter wind howled through the peaks of the Blade's Edge Mountains. A hunched, cloaked figure stomped through the drifts of snow and fought back against the harsh winds and blinding, falling snow. A thick, meaty, brown hand reached out of the fur cloak and tugged at the pack hanging off the figure's shoulder.
The orc knew he was far from the home, or the rest his clan. He was already two days separated from his hunting party, and at least four more since they'd left their village. After three long days hiking though the hills and finding no sign of any game, the orc decided to venture higher into the mountains, deep into the territory of ogres, to find suitable food for his new family. He had just reached maturity and already had a new mate, which was rather rare in his clan. As was the custom, the young orc was allowed to go on his first hunting expedition. 
This honor would give him a chance to prove himself. Now he would truly prove his strength and worth, he thought, to many who would see him as little more than an annoying whelp. The burly orc sighed deeply, the cold, dry air froze his lungs, but he kept moving. For the past day, he'd been following a faint scent he picked up that could possible be food. He wasn't going to turn back until he had a kill. 
The orc stopped and sniffed the thin air. The cold wind burned his nostrils. Despite the bitter sting, he found the scent of warm flesh growing stronger. He knew he was finally getting close, as his thick fist emerged from his clock, tightly gripping a tarnished, short hatchet. He was quite adept at using this throwing weapon, and he kept his larger axe strapped to his pack for use in close combat.
That's when he spotted a large form moving through the snow. He couldn't immediately recognize it through the blinding blizzard, though the stench was more overwhelming than he expected. He suspected it could be a stray clefthoof, probably an older one who had wandered into the mountains. He could throw his hatchet to startle and possible wound the beast long enough to grab his axe for a final blow. The orc widened his stance and steadied himself against the attacking wind. Carefully he took aim. His arm extended and he released. The hatched sliced gracefully though the blowing snow.
The orc suddenly heard a deep and terrible bellow. It was unlike any animal he'd ever heard, and it made him pause from grabbing his weapon right away. The figure picked itself up and approached through the snow. What emerged from the fog made the bristles on the orc's neck stand on edge, more than the cold itself.
===II:===
A large, burly, and very irritated-looking ogre glared down at the orc with beady eyes. His pale yellow fist the size of the orc's head held the orc's hatched like little more than a toothpick. He wore thick furs, but the brown orc could spot fresh blood staining the hide down his right leg. The massive ogre grunted something intelligible and glanced back over his right shoulder. A second, slightly taller ogre appeared next to him, his eyes equally glowing with rage. He grunted an acknowledgment in return. The orc shifted only slightly, gritting his teeth and bearing his yellow tusks, looking enraged to mask his fear.
The second ogre was clearly in charge, not only from the few bones that adorned his furs, but from his apparently limited ability to speak Orcish, “You orc. You hit Truk. We smash you. Chew your bones.”
The orc didn't blink. As he watched the two ogres carefully, his thoughts briefly shifted to his new mate. A beautiful and strong female, by any comparison. They had lived in the same village since they were both pups. He'd always known she was the one for him. 
Suddenly, a rage started to to brew in his chest. He could feel the blood moving faster though his arms and legs, and he started to sweat under his cloak. He quickly untied it and tossed it away. He beat his chest.
“I am Crogg of the Blackrock Clan!” He reached around and gripped his fighting axe, ripping it free and tightening his firsts around it. He swelled even large from holding his weapon, “I fight for the honor of my people. Whether victory or a glorious death finds me this day. You shall know the strength of the Blackrock Orcs!”
The taller ogre chuckled loudly, Truk following along, clearly not knowing what was being said. The leader grunted to the subordinate, ordering him to attack, allowing the already bloodied ogre to exact his revenge. Truk growled, then reached for his own axe that nearly matched Crogg's, but held in only a single, powerful hand. He started to approach. The blood rage built up inside Crogg's chest, filling into his lungs. 
It burst out as a loud, furious cry that even made the larger ogre pause. Crogg charged at the smaller but no-less towering Truk before he was able to respond. The small wound from the hatchet only slowed him down slightly and he barely avoided Crogg's first attack with his sharp axe. He countered, but the orc's smaller size made it easily avoided. Another roar and the orc swung, clanging blade against blade as the ogre parried, and returned the attack with his free fist, contacting with Crogg in the jaw.
Crogg staggered back a few yards. The ogre stepped forward with a swing of his axe aimed right at the orc's neck, but Crogg was quick despite the powerful blow and the bitter, bone-chilling, cold, and he ducked out of the way. He was able to make a swipe of his own at the ogre's trunk-like legs, slicing the side of his right thigh, below where the hatchet had already struck.
The cut was deep enough to cause the ogre to drop to one knee. The blood gushed from his wound. The ogre was still clutching his leg, yet it was all the hesitation that was needed. The orc quickly took advantage of the opening. Standing at his full hight, he lifted his axe over his head and in the same motion, brought it down. 
Crogg's axe struck the ogre on top of his forehead, embedding halfway into his skull before his dense brain mass stopped it. The ogre slumped and fell to the ground, his warm, red blood soaking the snow around him.
===III:===
The howling wind and freezing chill suddenly returned as the blood rage in Crogg started to fade. Though he barely had time to notice. Before he could pry his weapon from the dead ogre's cranium, a massive force struck him in the chest. He flew back a few yards and landed on his back in the snow.
“You kill Truk!” the large, fierce ogre bellowed, “Gar'tug will crush you!” The creature now wielded a weapon unlike Crogg had ever seen. It was a broad, rounded, axe-like blade about the length of the ogre's arm and half the width. The blunt side of the blade was connected top to bottom by a leather-wrapped, wooden handle. Gar'tug gripped the handle with both massive fists.
Crogg choked on the thin air, trying to fill his lungs again. He blinked his eyes, wet with snow, and tried to focus on his next attacker, who was now already lunging towards him, swinging his blade to the side for a decapitating blow. To both of their surprise, Crogg found himself charging at his attacker with another ferocious yell. The orc let a lifetime of combat training and instinct take over. Though he was still unarmed, the bloodlust fueled his fury.
The orc easily ducked the passing blade, then changed for the handle of his own weapon still stranded in the head of the dead ogre. Gar'tug reeled his large girth around with surprising swiftness, but failed to keep the brown-skin from rescuing his lost weapon. The ogre roared with frustration, and challenge the small orc. Crogg stood still, gripping his axe and letting out his own cry in reply.
===IV:===
Blade crashed against blade with a thunder that echoed through the mountain pass. The smaller orc staggered back from the force of the blow against the sheer size of the ogre. Both warriors huffed the thin, cold air, releasing their breaths in thick clouds. The smoky breath poured from Crogg's maw as he roared. He charged again, thrusting his entire weight into the blow that would hack right through the lead ogre. 
And he watched as the blade completely missed. He'd once again underestimated the swiftness of the massive ogres, and was unable to slow his attack in time. The head of the axe crashed against a rock that suddenly bulged out of the blanket of snow. The force of the cold blade against the rock shattered the crafted metal. Most of the main blade broke off the handle, and split apart, while smaller shards went flying in all directions. The recoil forced the hilt from Crogg's hands, and they ached slightly from the impact. The orc slid into the snow with a thud. Gar'tug, merely watching the whole fall, howled in laughter at the brown orc's clumsiness.
As enraged as he was embarrassed, Crogg tried to lift himself to his feet, but an intense, screaming pain brought him back down to his knees. He looked down at the source, and found a large piece of the axe was now jutting out of his left thigh. Blood poured from the wound into the snow he was squatted in.
===V:===
Crogg's head began to feel slightly hazy, and he looked up to see a larger, faint figure approaching him, probably to finish him off. His hand reached for the piece of axe in his leg, and was able to get most of his fist around it. The orc roared as he tugged on the piece of axe, pain shooting through his entire body. He could feel the metal cut into his hand, and the blood flowed faster from the wound. The ogre approached with weapon raised to sever the orc's head. Now he stood in front of the bleeding, helpless orc, and poised his weapon to bring it down.
With all the strength he had ever known, Crogg yanked the metal out of his leg. Before he could flinch or even cry out at the pain, he thrust out his first, sharpened blade still in hand, and brought it straight into the ogre's gut. The blade cut deep, and he dragged it across the ogre's torso to open up the hole even wider.
Gar'tug let out a surprised gurgle as the blood and bile gushed from his belly. He quickly dropped his weapon and slumped to his knees. The pale and exhausted Crogg forced himself to stand. Breathing heavily, he leaned over and picked up the ogre's weapon. He mustered all the strength he had left, swinging the blade right at the ogre's neck. 
The surprised and severed head of Gar'tug went soaring through the air, finally landing a ways away and rolling through the snow. The dead body of the ogre collapsed in front of Crogg. The orc swayed as the last bit of strength drained from him. He fell sideways into the snow and his eyes began to grow heavy. 
This would be the last song of Crogg, he thought. His final thoughts returned to his mate, and the family he would never get to have. Yet at least he'd found a true warrior's end.
Crogg blacked out...
===VI:===
A bright light awakened him. He blinked a few times to adjust to the light, and found he was laying in an orc hut. A fire burned in the center of the hut producing a lingering smell of a warm breakfast that had been made, and Crogg found himself to be starving. The clefthoof skin over the door had been opened and an imposing figure walked through. The newcomer's armor gleamed in the sunlight, glowing as if it was on fire. The orc stepped forward, and Crogg could now see the long braids and gruff expression of the newcomer.
“Chieftan Blackhand,” Crogg rasped. He tried to rise to give his clan leader the proper greeting, but the chieftain motioned for him to stay.
“Greetings, young Croggath. You've been out for a while.” the orc leader said, “The shamans have finally been able to stop the fever that we were afraid would take you. Though there is still a part of that axe in your leg, unfortunately.”
“How did you find me? I thought I would surely perish in those mountains.”
“And indeed you would have. Whether it was brave or foolish of you to leave the hunt on your own, I can not say. But it is a good thing the scouts followed your trail. What was more surprising was what they found when they got to you.”
Crogg blurted out, “I apologize for my rashness, Chieftan. I just wanted to--”
The towering orc interrupted with a hearty cackle. “Any orc who slays two ogres single-handedly needs to apologize to no one. Not even me. You bring pride to our clan, Croggath. The Blackrocks celebrate your name.”
Crogg swelled with pride. He tried to avoid blushing at the honor, but his cheeks darkened a brownish violet color at the compliment. Though his thoughts quickly shifted elsewhere, “My mate-”
“-has been provided for. It is practically a festival, and many are willing to sacrifice a little extra for an honored warrior. Onakka will be well until you are able to rejoin the hunt, which doesn't appear like it will be far off.”
Crogg was speechless. He couldn't quite convey his thanks. Blackhand simply took the opportunity and slowly headed back out of the opening. Before leaving, he looked over his shoulder.
“Rest well, Crogg Axeshard. You will soon fight again.”
Category:Stories
Category:Horde Stories