The Orc and the Archmage an excerpt from the book of Heroes origins.  

  Once not long ago there was a young orcish lad being raised by his adoptive human father. The human who was of noble birth had taken up farming as a hobby and moved out of the capital. Having found an orc baby after the human-orc war instead of turning his back he adopted him. Years passed and Orith grew strong and with puberty, he grew rambunctious and impatient. Orith was hated by the locals and all the other children his age were smaller than hin. Everyone but his foster father called him names and often would throw rubbish at him. Some would even throw pigs feed at him and try to treat him like an animal.

Sick of this treatment Orith ran away from home. Having been taught since young to read and write. Orith was not only literate but trained to use low-level magic. Orith was one of the only Orcs in the world other than orc shamans that could use magic. Taking and reshaping a plow into a makeshift ax Orithe ran away from home. Orith's adoptive father "Veld" tried to stop him but in a fight that Orith always regretted he used his strength to push his old father down.

Orith was accepted into an orc tribe he had found because of his magic talent and youthful strength. He spent years with them as they sometimes raided towns when supplies were short. Orith had only ever killed warrior but in this time he had seen some of the other tribe's men cut down women and children. This bothered him but being of low rank and level Orith had little choice but to keep his mouth shut. 

One day his tribe picked a fight they could not win. A legion of knights was waiting in a village and they slaughtered the orcs. As strong as Orith was death was inevitable. He lost his ax as A knights blade separated his arm at the shoulder. Losing consciousness Orith saw the impossible. His father standing before the knights and the knights looking terrified.

Later, Orith awoke in his own bed. A tray of food sat at the foot of his bed. Wiping the sweat from his forehead Orith realized his arm was reattached. It was like it had never been removed. 

"Ahem" coughed Veld.

"Father?" Orith questioned surprised.

"Yes son, we have much to talk about." Veld stated.

" I don't understand are... are we dead?" Orith asked.

"No son, you are alive and well but I have been keeping secrets from you and now I feel you deserve to know", replied old man Veld.

"Secrets? Why?", Orith muttered.

"I'm the Archmage, son. That's how I was able to reattach your arm. I had a wife and daughter once and it was during the war that your biological father killed my family. I hunted him down and slaughtered him like livestock but then I heard a cry. In the next tent over your mother had died from childbirth and she was holding you. At first, I wanted to kill you too but... I saw the sparkle in your eyes. You were innocent and pure like any other child. you weren't borne evil and in your eyes, I saw the chance for me to be a father again. So I took you and I never cared what anyone else had to say about it." Veld said tears in his eyes.

"I see..." Orith said.

"I hope you can forgive me for taking your culture and family from you", Veld cried.

Orith hugged Veld, "No father, you saved me twice. Why are you not mad at what I've done these past years?" 

"That's because you are my son and I love you no matter what", Veld coughed.

"I love you too Dad" Orith smiled.

Orith never abandoned Veld ever again. Archmage Veld died during the Great Demon Invasion in his son's arms.

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  As a result of my time on earth, my education exceeded the common folk of this world called Yor. So now much of Emma's and my time each day is spent teaching youths in classes. Things like simple computations, reading, and writing. This includes both elvish, dwarven, and English lessons as all these language's are commonplace here. Even Grillo had the Dwarvish and smithing classes. My mother taught herbalism and my dad combat training.

I joked that my dad was basically the PE teacher which got a laugh from Emma but confused everyone else. The new education system we were setting up hadn't ever existed here before. It was revolutionary to the elves who had never had large batches of children all at once before.

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I was fueling the forge for Grillo's smithing class when one of our scouts sounded the alarm. The lower level adults took the children to hide at the old cave system below and behind the mountain. The rest of us armed ourselves for combat. I had assumed that our enemy was a larger group of human slavers or a large Orc raiding party. Most orc tribes were like tribal land pirates that moved around continents raiding small towns. They could also be compared to Vikings. 

I equipped my axes and calculated what spells I should use. Grillo equipped his new prototype for Elorium based rune armor. A Gaunlet made of Elorium that enhances the wearer's strength. The old dwarf had used it to help him smith longer without tiring as easily. Next was his two-handed Adamantium alloy hammer. It was both a weapon and the best-forging hammer that he rarely used. 

Luna took a position in a nearby tree and scanned for enemies. My mother readied her medicine pouch while my father took the front. I stood one side of my father and Emma on the other. In the far distance approached thousands of men in red cloaks with a coiling snake pattern. The snake in the pattern was positioned with its fangs bared. The cloaked men had jagged daggers on their rope belts. At the front of this force was a man on a black horse in black armor. 

This man's eyes glowed red and black smoke was flowing out the crevices of his armor. It did look a bit intimidating. I tried to use [Soul Analyse] but for the first time other than Zotherg I failed to do so. A prompt appeared saying "failed". I didn't understand how that was possible. How can an enemy have resistance to something that so far hadn't existed? I tried again but...

[Failed]

[Failed]

[Failed]

...

I told my father what happened. A worried look covered his face before he told me what that meant. If I could see his level at nearly 1,000 then our enemy was ether five times that or a God. Possibly he was even both which meant were seriously screwed. Like, with a cast-iron pole lubricated with powdered glass. As in up used syringe needle creek without a paddle and about to go down a needle version of a waterfall. I tied to remember if there was anyone that had it out for me.

I cursed when I remembered "Muiren!"

The lesser God that had his followers create the goblin curse. The system warned that he had it out for me. The men in red robes certainly looked like devote cultists. 

 My dad yelled, "Are you friend or foe?"

We were fairly certain they were enemies but best to check first before fighting someone that will wipe the floor with us. The man smiled and pointed his sword forward. The cultist's then charged at us. 

"Well, its definitely foe" I shouted.

Luna shot an arrow at the black armored horseman. He caught the arrow easily even though it attacked him from behind at an upward angle. such a shot was near impossible and no one should have been able to predict such a shot much less catch it. If Luna had shot that at me I'd be dead no arguing about it. It's why my in-law scares me sometimes. Not that I'd ever cheat on Emma but her mom is one amazing archer and an arrow to the crotch is not a way I want to die. 

Using my axes I cut down some cultists. My father, Grillo, and Emma did the same. Luna took down waves with her regular arrows. An elf could be seen tossing bundles to her to reload.

The man on the Horse stayed put where he had been from the beginning. We had by ourselves killed a quarter of his forces with no loses. Why is he doing nothing? I thought. Then he raised his hand which emanated darkness. It smelled foul like the worst garbage and silent dog farts mixed together at once. Like rotted corpses mixed together with diarrhea. Then the bodies of the fallen cultists rapidly rotted and stood up. 

He had raised his followers into the walking dead. They had been cursed into serving him after death! What sort of madman would serve someone who did this to his followers? Yet none of the still-living cultists batted an eye over this. It was like this was something they desired. To be given eternal life through death or some psycho nonsense. The worst part was that the dead flooded towards us without fear.

All living beings have some hesitation being afraid of pain or having uncertainty. The dead, however, had no reservations but instead an endless hunger. They weren't slow zombies either they were like fast ghouls or something. If their levels had been any higher we would have been unable to handle the sheer number of them. The cultists all had around level 300 like myself but after being raised were around level 200. The cost of being raised was a third of the original level. 

After killing the undead cultists The black horsemen once again raised the dead. Not just the ones who had just died but the ghouls that we had re-killed. This time they became much more deteriorated and slower zombies. Yet the startling realization was that our enemies number had not lessened at all! The strongest opponent had yet to enter the field of battle. The black-armored horseman was still smiling at us. I now noticed that the horse he sat on was also undead and his eyes were the darkest pitch black. He was much viler than I ever could have imagined.

 I saw one resurrected zombie put its head back on its shoulders. I used both my axes the sever an undead's head into quarters and said: "Come back from that dillweed".

Then it still pieced itself back together again. So that was it! I finally decided to use fire hot enough to leave no remains. I didn't want to do this as burning such a large area while being careful to not hurt my allies would consume most of my mana.

I focused my fire magic and unleashed intense flames cremating the dead. Some of the wind elementals I had met before came and fueled the flames with the air. Using the air to boost my fire and control it better. Now the dead could no longer raise. I looked to our opponent expecting the smirk to be gone from his face but instead, he showed his teeth. With another burst of his dark power, the elementals made a screeching sound as they were banished. He had waited for the low-level elementals to come to our aid so he could banish them from the continent.  Now with most of his forces gone he dismounted his horse and drew his sword. The smirk still on his evil twisted face.