Thmug the Subjugator lifted the flap to his tent and looked out. The sky was clear, at the moment, but since the swamp dargon moved in, the great plains were constantly under stress. One moment it would be like it had always been, and the next storms were tearing across the countryside, pulling up grasses that were tall enough to hide a tor-cat and flattening orc dens. He stepped out of the tent, his new boot sinking ankle deep into the suddenly swampy ground.
A permanent frown had been etched on his face ever since the swamp dargon had moved in. It had only gotten deeper when he had united the clans.
A lizardman slithered out of the tent, “Remember chieftain, if you sack the capital city of the humans, the dargon, in her most infinite wisdom, will give you the plains uncontested.”
Thmug looked at his soiled boot, “But will the plains be swamp or plains?”
“That all depends on how quickly you perform your task. The longer you dawdle, the more of it will be swamp.”
Thmug’s fist clenched. “If you are lying to me, I promise you, I will eat the flesh from your bones and then break your neck.”
The lizardman’s tongue flicked out of his snake-like mouth. Only another reptile would be able to read its facial expression and they had no sweat glands for an accomplished hunter to scent their fear. In other words, if you weren’t expecting peace, they made excellent diplomats.
Thmug snapped his fingers and a short ashy grey orc, with eyes that seemed too large for his head, appeared at his side, “Hork, post extra guards on the side the lightning came from. It could be something.”
Hork bobbed his head like a bird before running off. His back was covered in the feathers of a shaman, but when the fighting came, he would be placed in the tents with the women and children. Hork was too simple to take into battle. And it would devastate those who lived if he died. Not to mention Hork didn’t know a single combat spell.
“Mirasi!” He shouted. His first mate poked her head out of their tent. She was not the most lovely orc female, but she was cunning and loyal. The many bright feathers sown into her skin indicated that she was a powerful shaman.
“What do you ask of me, chieftain?” She nodded her head in deference.
“Strike down the camp. When we leave, I want you to lead the non-combatants deeper south-west into the plains.”
The lizardman hissed from his elbow, “Do you not expect to be victorious, orc chieftain?”
The chieftain ignored the reptile, “You will take them to our Breeding Season camp. After our victory over the humans, the last thing the warriors need to fear is that our females and younglings may be in danger.”
His first mate nodded and left, barking orders to the other females, younglings and non-combatants. The females struck, folded and reconfigured the tents into sleds while the younglings corralled the draft boars and readied them to be hitched up.
One of his trolls, the one that had been stationed at the old keep, came up to him. The troll was badly burned. Half of his face was a mass of burn scars and his left arm had been shriveled to a pathetic stump protruding from his left shoulder. Trolls could heal from anything but a fire or acid burn. Those scars would mark him forever to his shame and the shame of his tribe. If Thmug hadn’t interceded for him, he would certainly have been killed when he returned, something that would have been a blessing to the world, but Thmug had needed the information the troll had brought him then and prevented the other trolls from killing the deformed creature. “Hail! Thmug the Subjugator, chieftain of orcs!”
Thumg raised his hand in salute, “Hail! Silisk the Burned. What do you bring me?”
Silisk the Burned sneered at the orc chieftain, “Do you remember the insolent creatures that burned me?”
“I remember your tale of woe. I remember how you told me that they would surely come for me swiftly, and I would do right to prepare. I prepared and doubled my patrols, encountering many of the enraged beasts of Breeding Season, but we encountered none of these pink skins that you told us of.”
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Silisk waved a hand disregarding what Thmug had said, “Thmug the Subjugartor was wise to listen to Silisk the Burned then, and he would be wise to listen now, follow me!”
The troll crept out of the camp, through the grasses along the route they would take to Capita. Thmug followed, while he didn’t really have time for a wild serapital chase, if it turned out to be something, and it would need to for Silisk to keep Thmug’s favor and protection, then it would be worth knowing.
Silisk stopped and guestured for Thmug to listen. At first Thmug couldn’t hear anything, but as he listened he heard shouting. Silisk leaned over and whispered, “The one you hear is the little dwarf. It could be dangerous to creep closer to count them, but that is certainly the dwarf from the group that attacked me.” Silisk’s grotesque face twisted in a horrible grimace, “I would love to get my hand on one of them.” His lone hand clenched so tightly his claws dug into his unburned hand and brackish blood oozed out before the wound healed itself.
Thmug put a hand on the troll’s shoulder, “Come on back, we’ll attack before they are ready for us.”
The two returned to the orc camp while Thmug peppered Silisk with questions about the group. Thmug rallied the troops and called out the march. He was at the front of the troop with Silisk and Orts the two trolls and Ugi, Karm, and Runi the lizardmen directly behind him. He didn’t want the lizardmen running off to betray them. His combat shamans were mixed in the rear with his archers.
Ugi, Karm and Runi palmed dark stones. According to the lizardmen, they could be chewed and then allowed the chewer to breathe some sort of dargon breath. They were unclear on the details.
The tall grasses parted and the strange group of surprised humanoids was in front of them. Arrows flew in a volley toward the group but one of the female humans, Shandra, shouted a spell and the arrows struck an unseen barrier before falling to the ground. Before the others in the group could recover from their surprise, Thmug and his sword and axe wielding orcs charged.
Twin great axes that glowed with the blessings of his shamans leapt into Thmugs strong hands. He swung in a strong downward arc at the dwarf with leaves stuck in his hair and beard, the one Silisk had claimed to be the leader, but a human in glowing golden armor kicked the dwarf, Kegar, out of the way and hooked both axes on a two-handed golden blade. The blade sparked like it was throwing off pieces of the sun when Thmug’s axes struck it and the tall grass around them began to smoke. This was a moment when the swampiness of the plains was in the world’s favor however, because the high water concentration in the ground put out any fires before they could sweep across the plains.
Thmug’s army fired another volley of arrows, this time focusing on the casters: Shandra, who had cast the protection spell; the white woman with the glowing pink energy around her hands, Faute; and the brownish woman with the lute, Lizzy. The troll had said that the woman with the lute, Thmug knew she had to be a bard, could sing and make her allies fight with more vigor or play and bring his forces to their knees.
Bards are not to be taken lightly. The legends say that Eyjan is surrounded by the mists because of bards. Thmug roared trying to distract any that he could. He saw Silisk was trying to fight a man with dargon wings sprouted from his back, Strozazand. Stroz was trying to breathe on Silisk, but Silisk’s heavy fist prevented the man from being able to do so. Orts wrestled with a huge snow leopard, the two taking turns biting and clawing one another. The snow cat’s attempts were futile since the troll healed and the troll couldn’t seem to penetrate the cat’s hide.
The lizardmen were alternating between chewing their stones and breathing sprays of acid at the party, however the wind was whipping up and some of the acid sprays were being blown back at the trolls who were not pleased by the development. Every time the wind blew acid on the trolls it not only harmed them, but it also prevented them from healing from the attacks they were suffering from their attackers.
Thmug shouted in orcish, “Shamans! Kill the black human!” I bet if humans and their ilk were not so monochromatic they wouldn’t feel the need to steal our land. It was something Thmug had believed for a long time. Humans and dwarves only came in two colors, pink and black. It wasn’t a nice pink either, like orcs, but rather a sad pink that tried to hide behind a mask of white. It was shameful. Humans were shameful.
Roots and grasses leapt from the grass entangling Shandra’s calves and thighs, disrupting her spell casting. Kegar began casting at the orc shamans, ignoring Shandra’s struggles.
“Broden!” Shandra yelled.
That was when Thmug heard a sound he had hoped he would never hear again. In his younger days, before he had sought to unite the clans, he had journeyed far from his plains homeland to the boarders of the Brown Dargon flight’s lands. It was there that he had encountered a lion. The beast was so powerful and large it could make a Tor-cat roll over in sheer panic.
Thmug turned and looked over his people to see, what he knew to be a rather small lion, tearing its way through his archers. Some of his archers turned and fired at the lion, but Thmug knew iron tipped arrows couldn’t pierce a lion’s hide. Others, seeing their death coming, fired futilely at the bard whose’ magic was sapping the strength from the orcs. Thmug watched the arrows stream toward the bard only to be cut away by a slight man, Percival, he hadn’t noticed. Some of the arrows, the man literally snatched out of the air. It was at once amazing and horrifying to see.
It became even more horrifying when Percival handed all the snatched arrows to a dusky black skinned woman with a bow, Ellen. The bow was wreathed in purple energy and as she held each arrow against it, they too became charged with the purple energy. When she fired the arrows, they went unerringly into the throats of the lizardmen and Silisk.
The power of the arrows striking Silisk knocked the troll off balance, which gave Strozazand just enough time to get a breath and breathe fire into Silisk’s face. But the flames weren’t done. Stroz turned his head and caught Orts in the blast as well. Köttur, was slightly singed, but managed to spring out of the way before catching too much heat.
Thmug had been able to take in all this information while holding back Cole, the man in the golden armor. What he hadn’t noticed was the short, fat Halfling Finos sneaking around behind him. Thmug did notice the Halfling hamstringing him.
Thmug felt determined to kill one of these detestable creatures that would make orcish kind extinct. The bard, it must be the bard. Silisk had believed the dwarf was the leader, but Thmug could smell the royal blood in the bard. Using his left axe to deflect Cole’s sword, he threw his axe straight toward Lizzy, knowing that the power of his throw would be too much for the slight man to deflect.
As the lion’s jaws clamped around his throat and began to shake him, Thmug saw Percival kick the axe head squarely on the shaft between the two heads. The human’s timing was so perfect that the axe turned and fell, hitting no one.
We have all died for nothing.