Waves crashed ashore as the high tide returned to the bladelands. Corpses of both ogre and orc were littered among the slowly drowning mudflats and like many days their blood granted the sea a red tint. The scent of the salty deeps mixed with a taste of iron in the air, while Chieftain Lur’Dak huffed deeply. Battered and exhausted, yet standing. His blade in but one hand and touching the ground. Before him on the cliff was a group of four Ogres. Three legionnaires and one of their accursed sorcerers. Seagull’s flew above him and towards the feast of corpses below. Even though the battle of orc and ogre was almost over the fight for their remains of crow and gull would be soon at hand. Yet Lur’Dak swore he wouldn’t be among them, and if so, he would take those fat bastards with him to embrace the hungry deep.

He spitted a red glob of blood to the side and down to the waves, a first taste of what they might get of him. The grip around his big, curved and bloodied pearl-blade became tighter and he grabbed it with both hands once more. “Come now you ugly cowards! What are you waiting for?!” The legionnaires huffed back and angry, their faces mostly hidden by their helmets. They were just as wounded as Lur’Dak, if not more. Cuts and bruises littered their big bodies, one of them even had the remains of a spear in his shoulder, yet they remained, starring with the same fury as Lur’Dak, the young Chieftain of the Bladelands. And like a Chieftain he would take his stand. Finally their sorcerer hissed in a raspy voice that was torn by the darkness he wielded. “Get him, boys! Mother wants us home but we shall still bring her victory!”

Thunder cracked above the shore and Lur’Dak smiled at the distant sound of deep singing.

“Blood and glory!!” he screamed and launched himself at the Legionnaires, for a second the sky was gracious enough to be his wardrum. Accompanied by the distant song of shamans he carved into the first ogre’s shoulder, deep enough that the fat bastard ended up screeching like a pig. As soon as he got his blade out of him the ogre started to paint the cliff with thick red blood. His face was sprinkled with the hot red yet couldn’t allow his eyes to close for the other legionnaires didn’t wait. Quickly he swung his blade upwards to meet the axe of the next Ogre. Its weight was more than his blade so it was dragged down with it, yet at least it slowed the impact and allowed him to dodge. He moved to the side snarling and with the dragon's fire burning brightly in his eyes.

The sorcerer took a few steps backwards and raised his staff of rusted bronze. Orcskulls were dangling on black chains from it and once raised he started to sing alongside their wailing ghosts. It was a twisted version of the oldest tongue, yet his voice and the distant shaman clashed like the clouds above them.

Meanwhile Lur’Dak aimed his blade for the head of the next legionnaire as his face was punched from the side. The legionnaires punch was hard enough to break his tusk and he fell down. Gasping and looking up he saw both of their axes coming for him. He rolled over the ground and through a puddle of blood, only to end up at the legs of the Ogre that made it. Even though the bleeding one still tried to stop the blood from escaping him he roared at Lur’Dak and tried to stomp his face. The young chieftain's eyes widened as he saw the rusted iron boot coming. He was only saved as a bola suddenly surrounded the Ogres neck.

One of his few left warriors had arrived and screamed from across the cliff. “Chieftain! The mountains they~” that was the last Lur’Dak heard of him as screeching dead started to chop and claw the warrior down. All of the moving corpses aided by Tendrils from the clouds. Lur’Dak looked up. For a moment he thought the shaman had lost the battle as the clouds were conquered completely by the sorcerer. Black tendrils of smoke were moving down from the clouds and to the corpses of the field and the sea. Then he realised the heat surrounding him. It was enough that the air started to shimmer with waves. The shaman didn’t lose, she had just shifted her attention. He huffed for he knew she would let him know later yet stood up quickly. While the two other Ogres were slowly moving away from the heat, the bleeding one now tried to get the bola of his neck. Lur’Dak stood up behind him, kicked him towards his comrades with a grunt, then turned.

The sorcerer stood frozen in trance while chanting to the clouds. Yet his army of the dead rose from the corpses of the wide battlefield of the shore.

“Where are you shama~” the Sorcerer started to scream before his head was removed from his shoulders by Lur’Dak behind him. That certainly ended his trance. The tendrils vanished back to the clouds and the dead were lifeless once more.

Lur’Dak, young chieftain of the bladelands, caught his head and turned to face the legionnaires. Holding it towards them he roared while the sky was now conquered by one long lightning. He roared at them and the sky screamed for his victory. The wind blew the scent of his dead brothers from the sea to him and into his cloak of big fishscales. Both of the remaining legionnaires took a few steps backwards while the bleeding one had finally freed himself from the bola and stood up. He stood were Lur’Dak had stood before and now that one spitted blood to the side, half his body was painted in red already. Yet he had the strength to gather his axe and to waste breath on his last words. “Tell mother of my victory..” With those words he rushed into Lur’Dak ready to end the orcs life. Lur’Dak however roared and threw the sorcerer's head against the legionnaires head. His helmet was enough to protect him from the impact yet it gave the chieftain enough time to earn another kill.

Even after another head fell to the side his two brothers followed him. One axe was blocked before the other’s furthest far edge hit Lur’Daks chest. He snarled in pain and returned an angry swing to the Ogres belly, spilling his stinking guts over the cliff and the shore below. Huffing deeply and in pain Lur’Dak was unable to turn for the last Ogre standing, yet before he could bring down his axe at the chieftain his feet were suddenly starting to roast on the stone. The heat was more palpable around the Ogre than even before and parts of the Iron he wore started to glow. The shaman’s distant fury and song was loud that day.

Slowly Lur’Dak turned to see how the ogre desperately tried to remove his armor. Without any more hesitation he brought his sword down to the Ogres neck and ended his life as well.

After the last legionnaire lay down twitching in death, the shaman’s song was ended and the heat vanished with the wind. Soon his mother Mar’Dak stumbled to him from a nearby hill. “Fool!” She told him while he only grinned at the victory and gore around him. “You could have avoided that wound if you weren’t so hungry for blood!”

“I am alive am I not?” He said with a weak smile while his mother’s empty eyes scolded him. She brought her hand to his chest and quickly pressed the wound. It was deep and dangerously close to his heart.

“Because your mother is foolish enough to protect you, boy!” She was as angry as always before her voice calmed a little. “Sit down.” She said yet he remained standing. “Didn’t you hear me?!”

He still remained standing while his smile quickly vanished. She raised a brow and her ears twitched. “There is a shift in the winds…” she said while her own empty eyes widened. Above the eastern mountains a cloud of wyvern riders appeared. Leading them was the small man that carried the dragonscale cloak and title of the Khan.

“He is here.” Lur’Dak said darkly.

She didn’t need eyes to understand and nodded. Her voice carried a hint of softness in her command now. “Let me close the wound, it will not be pretty but I will be fast.”

“You know how much I care for pretty.” He said and finally sat down on a nearby stone. His hand rested on his sword in the ground next to him. He was not admitting it but he knew he could not stand another fight, even if the Khan would not have the aid of his wyvern and riders.

She raised a brow. “Not caring for pretty he says…” she huffed amused. “Your father never wore a cloak like that..”

His smile vanished with a hint of shame. The blind woman had caught him again. “Traditions change…” he defended himself and sat as tall and proud as ever, despite the pain.

She started to quickly clean and stitch the wound on his chest. Some of it with whispered prayers of the old tongue. A hint of worry was in her blind eyes the more she worked on the wound. “This will be a nasty scar.” she said and continued to do her best until it finally stopped bleeding.

“Good.” He answered. If she still had eyes she would have rolled them. Thick cloth was pressed on his wound as she made quick bandages out of them around his chest. She was about to ask if he could remove the fishbones from his shoulders or the scalecloak from his back, but knew the answer. And for once, while the Khan was coming, she shared his thoughts.

A horn was heard in the wyvern cloud and the riders started to spread out. Some to villages burned by the Ogres, others to battles that were still ongoing.

“He suspects me with an army.” Lur’Dak uttered while his gaze remained on the Khan.

“And he greets you with one..” His mother continued.

He grunted and snarled his teeth. “We can’t defend ourselves against him.” He said thinking while his hatred boiled his blood.

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“Who says he is here to fight you?” she asked him with a bitterness in her voice. “The Ogres want his pressues little scroll. He may be glad that we are a wall against them.”

He shook his head. “No mother..” His voice was unusually dark even for him. “He knows that we know what the scroll is.” For his last words he turned to gaze into her empty eyes. “Who do you think is a greater danger for him?” A proud but bitter smile was born on his face and with an effort he stood up once more. His mother protested but he couldn’t hear her. He took the old shellhorn from his belt and blew it with all the breath that was left inside his lungs.

The sea answered as it crashed against the cliffs. The hightide had risen enough to drown the remaining corpses of the mudflats and the high song of the horn echoed back from the eastern mountains.

No matter if it was one of his warriors, one of the Khan’s riders or an Ogre, the eyes of the Bladelands were drawn to its Chieftain. Three of the riders turned to him, and some of his own warriors used the last strength they had to run for him. The rest of the riders flew to the few places of battle that were left. If times had been different, this would have been a moment of joy. A moment of the true union of the northern clans and Karn’Arak, yet Lur’Dak remained full of fury. Who could say if the riders would leave, or if the Khan came to end what the sorceress had started. Both of them wanted the same, and both would demand the same sacrifice. By now all of the Bladelands knew that, yet despite the accursed darkness that came from the sorceress and her minions, their hatred still lingered on the Khan. For an orc to even consider such dark sorcery, was beyond dishonour.

Among the three riders that turned for him was Dustfang. “She is with him.” He said to his mother behind him. “The masked rider.”

“Do you truly think her loyalty lies anywhere but the Khan?” His mother held her staff tight. Shells, pearls and fishbones were dangling from it, and she was ready to show them to the sky once more.

He grinned. “You know my charme, mother!”

She sighed and even he stopped joking as the three came closer and closer. A few of his own warriors surrounded him. All of them in a similar state as he was. They greeted him with a fist on their chest. Some of them reported how the battles on other headlands were going, but most started to stare at the riders with him. None of them was foolish enough to feel joy at the sudden aid.

Finally with a crash the three Wyverns landed. The great desert beast Dustfang on one side, an old dark red Wyvern on the other, and in its centre a slick beast with a long neck and a twisted tongue. Almost like a serpent in the sky if not for its wide wings. A beast of poison.

On it the Khan looked down at the young bladeland chieftain, his few gathered warriors, and his mother. For a long moment no words were spoken and nothing but the distant sounds of battle were heard.

Lur’Dak nodded up to Sha’Raph on Dustfang and she greeted him with a fist on her chest. It granted her the eyes of the Khan before he returned to look at Lur’Dak. A smile of poison was born on Aru’Gal’s face before he spoke. “Shak’Aruk honorable chieftain! I heard you are in need of aid!”

Lur’Dak grunted back and slowly shook his head. “Is that truly all you heard?” He answered and glanced back to Sha’Raph for a second, her face and thoughts hidden behind her mask.

Aru’Gal needed a moment to think before he looked down with a smile only a caught thief could make. Once his burning eyes caught the burning fury inside Lur’Dak’s again. “I have heard plenty, oh mighty Chieftain..” He replied deeply. “Still I only seek to~”

“I won’t talk to a Wyvern but a man. If you seek to speak more before you slaughter us come down here!” Lur’Dak interrupted him. His warriors nodded and grunted, while his mother couldn’t hide the pride for her son.

A hint of anger was Aru’Gal’s answer before he nodded as his two companions and all three of them jumped down their Wyverns.

Lur’Dak looked them over. Both Sha’Raph and Aru’Gal were quite small for orcs of any kind, but the third one, the son of the mountain, was big and wide enough to make up for it. And even if he wouldn’t have, he had seen Sha’Raph fight on distant shores. Her height was not an issue but part of her prowess. At least against the Ogres.

With heavy steps by their Obsidian boots the three riders came closer. He saw how his warriors were ready to take their blades high but he waved his hand to ease them.

Before they arrived at them his mother whispered over his shoulder. “His words are poison.”

Lur’Dak only nodded and continued his gaze at the Khan. It hurted him to even stand, but by the ancestors and the corpses that were swimming below, he would stand as tall as any orc ever did in front of that little man.

Aru’Gal came close enough that their weapons could meet, yet not a single step further. A smart little man. While both of his riders nodded and greeted the warriors and him with a fist to their chest, the Khan did nothing but stare at Lur’Dak.

It was the Khan that broke the silence again. “Speak your mind, Chieftain.”

Lur’Dak grunted and grinned darkly. “My mind?” he asked amused. “It is not my mind that should be questioned!” He roared and for a moment struggled to stand. The battle before weighing heavy on him.

Aru’Gal eyed him up and down, glancing at his wounds and bruises. Once his eyes returned to meet Lur’Dak’s there was a dark smile in them. “Your watcher must have had quite the words to share, while he lived.”

“Don’t you dare question his truth or honour!” Lur’Dak’s replies became louder with every moment and his face more of fury as well. He was nudged in the back slightly by his mother. He huffed and looked down before his gaze went to the distant headlands. Wyverns breathed fire there, hopefully only at the Ogres. “You are such a smart man to send your warriors away from the truth.” His burning eyes glared over to Bruna hidden behind his horned helmet. “Does he know?” He asked and pointed at him.

Nothing but deep huffs were the answer from that helmet.

Aru’Gal turned slightly to glance at Bruna and back to Lur’Dak he nodded knowing. “I thought as much! Why would you tell your sacrifices that there are but meat for your own new form! Nothing but wood for the fire of your forge!”

Now even his mother raised a word from behind him. “You already started the process did you not, young Khan?” She hissed, with judgement in her words and age in her voice “So many of us felt the fire moving away from Karn’Arak.” She shook her head while her blind gaze went into nothing. “You are on dark path, oh mighty Khan.” She pointed her wrinkled ashen hand at him. “A dark path!” She repeated and finally birthed a fire in Aru’Gal. “Shut it, woman!” He yelled at her, making Lur’Dak and his warriors readying their weapons.

The Bladeland chieftain spoke deeply but full of anger “You will address our Seer as she deserves.”

Aru’Gal’s eyes caught Lur’Dak’s again and the fire in both of them burned as bright as the horizon did in the battle of Ogre, Wyvern and Bladeland warriors.

“Ours recently died…” Aru’Gal said with a grim softness in his voice and slowly drew the big obsidian sword from his back. “It was such a tragic.” A dark snicker followed his words. A laughter of a mad man. Lur’Dak attempted to raise his blade but had to bring it to the ground once more, to not fall. While he leaned on it he glared back at Aru’Gal and glanced around his warriors. “None of you, make a move. No matter what he does.”

Aru’Gal raised a brow while holding his sword ready with but one hand.

Now Lur’Dak laughed with a proud bitterness in his voice. “If you want to strike a man already beaten. Do so. Show the clans the kind of man you are!”

His mother’s blind eyes widened “No..” she whispered, yet loud enough to be heard by all around.

Aru’Gal grinded his teeth “What else am I supposed to do with a Chieftain who has forgotten his place?!”

“I have forgotten nothing! It is you, little Khan, who has to remember that he is an Orc and no dark sorcerer of the west!”

Aru’Gal roared and raised his blade. Behind Lur’Dak his mother screamed but was held back by his warriors. The Chieftain of the Bladelands was ready to die standing, unmasking the Khan for what he was. Yet before the Khan’s blade could hit Lur’Dak it was answered by a gigantic obsidian axe. His and Bruna’s weaponed clashed and for a moment it seemed as if sky and sea wanted to answer once more.

The two stared at each other before Bruna used his muscle and forced Aru’Gal’s blade down. Fury mixed with disbelief in Aru’Gal’s eyes as they met the hidden glow of Bruna’s.

Behind Bruna, Lur’Dak’s mother made a sigh of relief and held a hand on her son’s shoulder.

Aru’Gal roared at his friend “What are you doing?!”

“Beating you, if I have to.” Bruna replied quite calmly.

Lur’Dak made a big grin of amusement yet said nothing.

Bruna stepped closer and held a hand on Aru’Gal’s shoulder. “I will follow you as far as I can brother but I will not watch you lose your honour.”

“Oh my honour?!” Aru’Gal spitted back, his words bitter and his eyes burning. “There was a time when you would have done the same! He begged for death!” He stared back at Lur’Dak and his mother. “You simply see a mother and get weak!”

Bruna’s hidden eyes started to glow with unfathomable fury.

“Silence.” Sha’Raph demanded and finally took a step forward herself. “Kill each other once only orcs are left.” She glanced at both of her companions before her gaze went over to Lur’Dak. “Has the sorceress been seen among them?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

She nodded knowingly and came back to Aru’Gal. “Do not forget why we are here. Let us fly and beat that witch.”

She said and settled back on Dustfang again, yet didn’t start to fly. The great desert beast huffed deeply and audibly, glaring at every orc in front of it.

Aru’Gal huffed a few times until he took a deep breath and sheathed the sword on his back once more. Yet he pointed at Lur’Dak behind Bruna. “Karn’Arak will return and you will be reminded of your place.” He said and turned to settle his own wyvern again. “All of you will!” He didn’t wait and flew off, Sha’Raph punched her chest towards the chieftain again and followed.

Bruna slowly turned to look at Lur’Dak and his mother. He had no chance for a word before Lur’Dak spoke. “He needs to be stopped.” His mother next to him nodded eagerly to that.

Bruna said nothing but grunted in his deep booming voice. “Kag’Magosh.” He finally said and punched his chest before he climbed Gor’Mash’s wyvern again.

“Thank you…” The seer whispered, yet her voice was carried to Bruna’s ears.

He needed to leave, for he knew his helmet could not hide his thoughts much longer.