“Good haul Bron?” The lead-man politely questioned Bron, who’d just emerged from the mines, freshly coated in itchy, annoying coal dust.
“Hmph.” Bron grunted to the irritating human, throwing his bag at the man who stumbled as he caught the considerable weight of ‘sedimentary rock’.
[Why don’t you like him?]
Bron didn’t answer the voice as he walked down the forest track, because sometimes you don’t need a reason to dislike someone.
No, he definitely didn’t dislike the human because he got promoted to lead-man after working here for a measly 2 years, whereas Bron had been working here longer than he’d been alive and didn’t even have a pay rise to show it.
No reason at all.
“EEEEEAAAHHHH!” The high-pitched scream of a Mud-ape suddenly pierced through the night, as a large dominant male member of the species leapt from a tree and landed in front of Bron.
Ah fuck, was it mating season again already? Usually, the mud-apes got fiercely territorial to show off to the females of their species, even fighting humans and other sapient creatures. Which is quite rare any other time of year for the shy creatures.
You wouldn’t think so though, with their appearance.
Even hunched over as this male was, he still stood around half the height of the towering Bron. Paired with long powerful arms, a stocky torso and sharp canines, mud-apes became quite feared in this region.
[Oh my, I would suggest slowly backing away, avoid eye contact and don’t show any teeth. Primates habitually associate those gestures with aggression.]
Bron stomped the ground and leaned forward, roaring at the wild beast, to which the mud-ape screeched its own challenge.
[Okay, probably not the best idea.]
With a short pounding of its chest, the mud-ape threw itself at Bron. Long robust arms providing the creature with surprising speed as it barreled toward the aging Orc.
“GRAAAAHHH!” Bro roared once more, batting aside a flailing hairy arm and wincing at the force of the blow, he’d be bruising there tonight. But not before he gave the fucking thing some bruises of its own.
With a resounding thud, one meaty green fist met the side of a furry face, the mighty strike slamming the mud-ape into it’s namesake. Before it could recover, Bron kicked it in the ribs as hard as he could, sending the ape rolling a few meters away.
Having lived in these woods for the better part of 70 years, Bron knew how to deal with a mud-ape. You hit it hard, and you keep hitting it until fucks off or dies.
Either works.
Not giving the ape a chance to recover, Bron darted over and grabbed one of the beast’s flailing arms. Picking it up and throwing it off the track and into the forest. The ape flew for a good few meters before colliding harshly with a sturdy tree.
Blearily shaking its head, the ape slowly stood up, stumbled around for a few seconds, glanced at Bron, and darted deeper into the green. Letting loose a few hoots as it ran.
[Huh, I thought that’d be more exciting.]
“It’s an animal, they prioritize survival. It isn’t a fucking monster.”
----------------------------------------
“I thought you said there was a town here?” Rodain questioned Jas as he looked over an empty beach, riddled with sharp craggy rocks.
“It is a pretty remote town, probably doesn’t even have a port,” Jas answered, busy with a few other men as they lowered the rowboats.
“Very well, I’ll take every sailor we have and head inland. Once we find the town, we subdue and take any able-bodied men they have. Hear that men? No killing!” Rodain shouted across the ship, receiving a few disappointed ‘aye’s.
“Jas you stay aboard the ship.”
“Aye Cap’n”
“Captain, Jas. Captain.”
----------------------------------------
[Back to this huh?]
Bron raised the pitcher and downed the contents in one breath, then moving on to his dinner, simply picking up the bowl and gulping the broth down much like the grog. After slamming the bowl down on the wood bench, Dranik handed him another pitcher.
“I hope you choke, swine.”
Bron grunted at the man, ignoring the jab in favour of the divine drink placed Infront of him.
But his attempt at poisoning himself was suddenly interrupted by the bar door slamming open, and a bloodied man falling into the bar, screaming at the shocked inhabitants.
“PIRATES! PIRATES IN THE TOWN!”
[Pirates?]
“pirates?”
“Hmph.”
The shocked muttering of Dranik and the annoying AI went unanswered as a large tattooed man kicked down the door and sunk his axe into the skull of the bloodied man with a wet thud.
“Oops.” The murderous stranger sarcastically drawled.
There was a second of shocked silence, then absolute pandemonium. The bar was overtaken with screams as every man and woman in the building threw whatever they had on-hand at the pirate, then dashed out of the building, most using windows since the main door was occupied.
Well, everyone except for two. One hid behind the counter, barely containing his own shaking body from throwing itself out the window.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
And the other grabbed all the nearby abandoned pitchers and tipped their contents into his own.
[RUN BRON!]
‘In a damn minute.’ Bron thought to the voice, carefully pouring the precious liquid into his pitcher. He couldn’t afford to spill even a drop!
“Well, well. They say in a time of crisis, a man shows his true colours.” The muscled pirate said, slowly walking over the recently dead body toward Bron. Lazily spinning the axe he held deftly in one hand, having ripped the weapon free from a skull moments earlier.
“And when you take what’s precious to them…” The pirate growled, raising his axe with a mad gleam in his eye.
“THEY SHOW THEIR TRUE NATURE!” He shouted, throwing the axe with all his considerable strength. The deadly weapon spinning through the air with vicious speed.
Bron only had time to blink before the several pitchers in his arms exploded, the treasured grog inside left to soak into the rotting wood floor.
Bron froze, the blood dripping from a long cut in his forearm not noticed or acknowledged.
“What’s it gonna be, Tusker? fight, or flight?”
Bron’s open hands curled into tightly shaking fists as he turned to the pirate.
“I’M GONNA CAVE IN YER SKULL PIG-SKIN!” He roared at the pirate, the war cry his people grew famous for spilling from his lips as he charged the man, who stood very almost as large as himself.
The pirates face grew a maddening grin as prepared to receive the charging orc, something most men would consider insane.
[His stance isn’t very spread, lead with a kick to destabilize him, then push him to the ground!]
Bron grabbed a sturdy looking chair as he passed it and raised the construct over his head, the pirate’s eyes widened as he crossed his thick arms over his face, but it did little to save him.
With a grunt of exertion, Bron brought the wooden chair, designed to hold Orcs, crashing down on the pirate’s skull with a loud crunch, sending the pirate slamming into the floor.
[Or that, that works.]
Before Bron could celebrate, his feet were kicked out from under him with shocking strength, his own significant bulk slamming into the floor next to the pirate.
“Ye got some fight in ya, green-skin.” The pirate growled as he dragged himself back up, using a table for support.
Bron rolled over and pushed himself up, the stench of his precious grog staining the floor fueling his growing rage. With a resounding roar, he threw himself at the pirate in a bodily tackle. Both of them crashing through a table, sharp splinters ravaging their skin.
“Argh, fucking hell!” The pirate swore, pounding Bron’s back with an elbow, his arm pumping up and down like a piston. Bron snarled and started punching the man’s stomach over and over, still pushing forward and forcing the pirate closer to the rickety wall of the bar.
Bron felt something crack under the pirate’s unforgiving elbow, probably a rib. The sudden pain giving him an abrupt burst of strength as he bellowed! Picking the pirate up and in a show of astonishing might, threw the man through the old rotting wall.
“Oh fu-,” The curses of the pirate were cut-off as he slammed through the wall, his bruised body showered with old wet wood. The air pushed from his lungs as he violently collided with the cold wet mud outside, his bloodied form quickly layered with the filth. The pouring rain doing nothing to wash it off.
Bron stood there, gasping for breath as he held his side with the broken rib. Swearing to gods that didn’t care when he saw the human push himself up from the thick mud.
“Fucking pig skins.” He swore again, jumping the short two-meter drop down into the muck where the pirate now stood. Landing with a gasp of pain, Bron warily regarded the buccaneer.
“Yer’ a tough one, but that’s to be expected of an old, decrepit Orc.” The man sneered, wiping the mud from his eyes.
[Ahh, a verbal joust. Tell him that he’s a son of a whore and a father of goats.]
“Fuck you.” Bron rumbled.
[Close enough.]
“Starting to wish I didn’t throw away my axe.” The pirate mumbled as he cracked his neck, slowly walking toward Bron.
[Yeah, that was pretty dumb.]
The two met in a furious clash once more, Bron’s attempt to grapple stopped with a painful blow to the nose, snapping it to the side. Bron responded with a brutal punch to the pirate’s eye, quickly swelling it up and opening a bleeding cut on their brow.
Strike after strike was traded, Bron’s were heavy and unrelenting, the pirate’s precise and practised. After blocking a particularly malicious knee to his stomach, Bron slipped in the mud. The pirate didn’t miss his chance and shoulder-checked the old Orc into the grime but got pulled down with the persistent Orc.
Bron felt his lip split from a dizzying punch and retaliated with a punch to the throat. The two twisting and turning in the muck as each tried to get the advantage, the bruises and cuts rapidly piling up as arms, elbows, knees and teeth swung and struck.
[Yeah! Get him!]
‘Useless fucking voices!’ Bron thought as he rolled through the mud away from the pirate, his cloths slick wet to his skin. But when his hand hit something painfully hard, a ferocious smile split his face. A smile he quickly hid.
[I’m moral support, at least until you get some Q-mana.]
Spitting out what he hoped wasn’t a tooth, Bron stood up on unreliably shaky legs. The pouring rain masking his gasps for air as the pirate did the same. Around the two, townspeople ran from bloodthirsty pirates as homes were torched and looted, the occupants dragged kicking and screaming out. And worryingly, several other pirates circled the two from a distance.
“There’s no escaping this swamp-skin, surrender now and I’ll kill you fast.”
Bron snorted the blooded welling up in his broken nose into his mouth, spitting the disgusting glob into the mud. Bron wasn’t going anywhere, not when the man who spilt his grog was still breathing.
[He’s also torching your entire town and killing everyone you’ve ever known.]
“I told you I’d fucking kill you,” Bron growled with his deep voice of old rage, sluggishly stumbling toward the pirate with an ugly snarl on his face.
“Dreams are well and good man-eater. But keep them REALISTIC!” The pirate yelled, falling into a dead sprint for the Orc.
Bron winced at his broken rib and severely bruised body but ran to meet the crazed pirates charge nonetheless, heavy feet pounding the mud-stricken earth with every step.
They collided with a thud and a crack.
The pirate's fist smashed into the side of Bron’s jaw with a thud.
The rock Bron had been hiding hit the pirate’s temple with a crack causing the pirate to collapse into the mud, his momentum dragging and rolling him through the sludge.
[Nice!]
Bron didn’t waste any time, scrambling over to the fallen pirate and bringing the unwieldy granite down upon his face over and over.
After a few heavy blows, the pirates face concaved, and he took his last rattling breath through broken lips.
Bron fell back into the mud, filling his deprived lungs with air as he panted without pause. The annoying voice thankfully but strangely, silent.
For a moment, Bron just relished the quiet of the rain.
“Well fought, Orc.”
----------------------------------------
Rodain watched his boatswain ‘fight’ the orc, perhaps fight was a bit strong…
Brawl?
In any case, it was a fight his boatswain was winning. Though the orc had been a tough opponent by the bruises on the boatswain’s face, numerous as they were.
Rodain just hoped the idiotic pirate remembered they needed these men alive, dead men don’t row.
At least, not on his ship.
His fellow crewmates gathered around, forming a semi-circle to watch the fight. It wasn’t code or anything to disturb fights, they just wanted to place bets. Pirates would-be pirates.
Rodain’s eyes narrowed as they saw the Orc subtly hide a rock behind himself, angling his large body so the boatswain wouldn’t see the deception. Sneaky, sneaky orc.
Perhaps, the boatswain wouldn’t be winning this. Rodain supposed now is when he should jump in and subdue the orc, but if he was honest, Rodain never liked the boatswain anyway.
Sure enough, not 10 seconds later, the Orc was in the process of beating the man’s skull in with the stone. The blood and brain matter mixing with the wet mud. It was a gruesome sight, causing even the pirates to go uncharacteristically quiet.
It was a brutal, underhanded and devious move by the orc, a decidedly….
Pirate move…
“Well fought Orc,” Rodain announced, shocking the orc from his battle-rage as the pirate captain carefully considered his options. Especially since now, he was short a boatswain and his strength specialist at that.
“But if you’re done excavating my good boatswains’ grey matter, I have a proposal.” He continued, pulling the barkeep he captured's head back by the hair and gently resting the blade of his sword on the dwarf’s throat.
“I have a proposal.”