Iokhur secretly gathered his retainers and also headed north. While the world spun, 40,000 Orcs commanded by general Zarfu consisted of wolf riders, infantry and skirmishers; armed with spears, arrows, nets, and axes. Two metres tall, the Orcs were green skinned, strong beasts by any measure, but still smaller than any Ogre. The Amanite kingdom, an Orcish realm was expansionist and cruel to their enemies, but it was their strict hierarchical system, led by their warmongering king that made them such. Marching along the rocky outcrops, the Orcs immediately attempted to seize a village. An Ogre threw a boulder, and a few Orcs were immediately crushed.
“Surrender now! Or die!” An Orcish lieutenant shouted.
The fortified villages mostly stayed that way, boulders occasionally were chucked at the invaders. The Orcs encircled and waited to slaughter the locals.
“Kill these insolent wretches!”
Arrows blocked out the sun, the whooshing sound only interrupted by the crackling of flames. The Orcs were merciless, storming into the small village and impaling the women and children, suffering casualties from the Ogres who were nonetheless too disorganised to mount a proper resistance. The circular fortress village had Ogre blood running down the hillocks and down the crags. The livestock were taken, goats, cows, and even some mammoths.
“Look at this!” One Orc said as he took the lead of a mammoth, “these Ogres are ridiculous.”
“We need to eliminate them,” Zarfu said, “spare nothing! The King wants the Ogres enslaved. Another army will come after us!”
“The Amanites will conquer!” One Orc said, raising his spear, “The Orcs will conquer!”
The Orcs rode special wolves as cavalry, large wolves that could be sat on without complaint, while others herded big oxen that carried their supplies. The weather was dry, but the ground was wet with blood. The other Orcish army poured over the border, attempting to snuff out the Ogres with immediate effect. General Zarzum and Zarfu invaded the shared Ogre lands, lands not belonging to any of the clans. The Orcish axe on a red banner fluttered ominously over Ogre lands. The Orcs went to looting, their plans were quite clearly genocidal. They did not spare a single Ogre they encountered.
A day at most would pass, when Iokhur of the Oru clan and Aeruk of the Rzo led their retinues to the fight. Iokhur had 1000 men who had surreptitiously joined the clan leader, he had not made his intentions clear to the other clans but he sallied out. The Ogres unlike basically all their counterparts did not use mounts, they were large fearsome creatures, and were large enough to not need them, they ran fast with long strides that thudded along the ground, they were also probably too large for mounts. There was no sheen on the metal that Iokhur wore, nor most of his retinue. They thudded as quietly as they could (which was not quietly at all) heading to the border regions in remarkable time. Ogre roads were clean, but most of all the Ogre communication system was the best on the continent, they knew exactly where they were going and which was the shortest route; and their magic meant they knew where everything was. Aeruk marched with 2000, cheering Ogre crowds had people showing their own weapons. The Ogre honour system was unique to them, they called it ‘glory,’ they only fought when it would bring them glory, therefore their society was particularly defensive in its art of war, fighting in defence of other Ogres brought much glory, fighting in defence of the weak even more. Ogres refused coin for this service, a tally of glory was collected, the most honourable would amass the larger armies. Likewise dishonour by killing the weak, killing captives or killing other Ogres, could have one disbarred from being clan leader and have other Ogres refuse to fight alongside you.
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Seeing the ways the Ogres live. Is truly enlightening, I brought 50 Ilar coins, but no one accepted them, they said it would bring more glory to feed me without coin than to feed me with. I did not understand what they were talking about. We always thought of the Ogres as unenlightened savages. Everything has great thought put into it, their society is nothing like anything else on the continent.
Kleitomachos studied their society, more like a student than a spy. He was to collect information on the Ogre society and report back to the Ilar capital on what he found out, but no Ogre seemed particularly concerned that he would learn something.
“Excuse me, what’s going on?” Kleitomachos asked.
“The Orcs have invaded, a clan leader has gone to face them, he seeks great glory,” an Ogre explained, a big smile on his big dumb face.
Kleitomachos was a dark skinned man with wooly hair, and a beard a few days unshaven, he noted in comparison that not one Ogre had facial hair, a curious detail he scribbled in his report, for no reason other than it was fascinating to him.
“Orcish invasion, that does sound bad. Do you think the Orcs would invade Ilar?”
“Ilar?” One Ogre laughed, “the fire and earth mages? Who knows, the Orcs are led by a greedy king, they fight for money, for land, maybe even for hatred and above all because their king told them to. Do you want to know why the Ogres fight?”
“Why?” Kleitomachos asked breathlessly.
“For glory!” A few other Ogres answered, before they laughed raucously.
Kleitomachos joined in their hearty laughs, never hearing something so absurd, and yet being impressed. His palms were filled with sweat and his heart beat faster.
“Can I see the fight?” He asked, covering his mouth fearing he might have said something offensive.
A raucous cheer, before two of the largest Ogres picked him up and ran to the battle site. Kleitomachos eyes popped open in shock, trying to stabilise himself, amazed by the speed of the Ogres. The Ogres were both grinning in delight at performing such an honour.
Fucking hell! Are they quick! I think horses are much slower, and they don’t even look the slightest bit tired.