--Just when he was about to stand up from his crouched stance, another strike came in flying. Zarak blocked it with the broken sword, but the force of the blow was so severe he fell back and the hilt was knocked clean out of his hand. He crawled backward as another attack went slashing down. It landed right between Zarak’s legs, just short of his family jewels. Kha’Zan was displeased, and it was evident in the bored look on his face. Zarak saw this as an opportunity. His opponent now had to put all of his force into pulling his sword out of the ground before attacking Zarak again. As Kha’Zan did so, wrenching his sword out of the ground, Zarak rolled forward. Kha’Zan’s face betrayed his surprise, and Zarak abused the opening by lobbing his right shin into the huge Orks groin.

--A metallic clang could be heard and Zarak felt a sharp pain in his shin. Evidently, there was a metal plate under the Ork’s loincloth. How unfortunate. As Zarak jumped on his good foot, holding the bad leg, Kha’Zan waved his head in disapproval. He made a swing aiming for Zarak’s neck, but Zarak tumbled onto the ground, turning a decapitating slice into a harmless nick on his throat. As he rolled back on his feet, he clasped some sand and threw it into his opponents face.

--Alas, Kha’Zan held his left hand out and blocked the underhanded tactic. Kha’Zan grabbed Zarak’s leather breastplate with his left arm and thrust his knee into Zarak’s stomach, expelling the air from him. Zarak bent forward and coughed as his stomach churned, and a quick armoured backslap from Kha’Zan’s left fist sent him flying into the dirt, face first.

--He was flat on the ground, and he could hear his opponent’s armour clanking as Kha’Zan walked up behind Zarak. Zarak knew what was coming. A single, downward thrust to nail him down into the ground, severing his spine and ending all chances of revenge. But what could he do about it? He was outmatched, and running out of dirty tricks that worked in the shady alleys of Bartertown. With his final look he noticed, lying on the ground a few steps from him, his broken blade.

--Kha’Zan’s sword hit naught but the dust in Zarak’s trail as he quickly spun back to his feet, his broken sword in hand. He wasn’t giving up that easily! His enemy, Kha’Zan, once again had to make the choice between pulling his weapon out of the ground thus risking Zarak’s attack, or turning on him. In a split second, it would all be over.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

--Kha’Zan anticipated Zarak would attack just like before, so he bluffed the opening, and would instead smack Zarak in the face with his fist.

--But Kha’Zan guessed wrong… Zarak’s attack was also a feint. Zarak moved in, straight after dodging the Ork’s attack. The Ork however, was so fast he threw another punch at Zarak in the instant he needed to close the distance. This one was weaker though, and Zarak took it head on, ignored it. He pushed through! His broken blade plunged into Kha’Zan’s soft, fleshy neck.

--Blood gushed out, splattering on Zarak’s calm face. Kha’Zan at first desperately grabbed Zarak’s hands, which gripped the broken blade firmly, but then attempted to push him away. Kha’Zan coughed and gagged, falling to his knees before Zarak, as he struggled to catch a breath through all the blood. Zarak however twisted his broken blade with both hands, opening the wound further.

--Yes, it was over. Zarak gazed on towards Kord with murderous intent, but the Ork king was laughing. He was laughing so hard he almost fell over, while his retinue gazed upon the scene in disgust. What was so damn funny!?

Kord, in Fanelian, barely catching breath -- You’re quite something, you stray dog you!

Zarak shouted across the battlefield, pointing at him -- You’re next!

--Kord grunted something incomprehensible to the Orks around him, as Zarak threw away his broken sword and wrenched Kha’Zan’s from his cold, dead hand. Zarak charged the Ork king and his retinue, screaming a war shout of unparalleled wrath. To the king’s command, a group of strangely tattooed Orks stepped forth in front of Kord, wielding cloth sling shots in their hands. They began to bombard Zarak with stones. He ignored the hits and charged on as his body was bruised.

--One of the stones hit Zarak’s left shin with a cracking noise. His shin guard’s leather straps tore from the force of the impact and it flew off. He fell rolling to the ground.

--He dragged himself forward, trough the dust, trying to get back up. “This isn’t over yet!” He growled, while rising in spite of the barrage. The stone rain was unrelenting. A rock smacked him clean in the forehead and another crack could be heard.

--This time, it was over.

@@@

--Thank you for reading. If you liked my work, please share it, to support my content. When you fall, keep trying to get back up.