Blade Plains.

The young orc boy grunted as a thick boot connected to his gut. The far larger orc snarled down at him.

"Get up."

The orc boy struggled to do so, his brother watching what happened from nearby. The larger orc snarled and kicked him in the gut once more.

"What kind of orc can't defend himself?!"

The orc boy vomited upon the dusty ground as tears formed in his eyes from the pain and humiliation. The larger orc glared down, grunted, and turned away before barking out a command.

"Continue."

The two orcish brothers stared at one another. The one still standing held his training sword tightly while the one still on the ground reached out to grasp his own that had fallen aside. As his hand tightened around it, his brother rushed him with a feral snarl. A roar came from his throat as he launched himself upon his brother and discarded the wooden sword and proceeded to wrestle him instead.

The younger, and skinnier, of the two struggled against the onslaught. Until his brother leaned down during the struggle and whispered harshly to him.

"I'll give you an opening and you take it."

The younger orc didn't quite understand what his brother meant to do or even what he was supposed to do as his brother continued to batter and grapple him until he was nearly unconscious. His vision swam, his hearing rang from the assault, and he tasted blood in his mouth. Then he saw it. The opening his brother promised him! His brother turned towards their father while giving him a quick side-eye.

He seized the moment. He grabbed his training sword and swung with all his might! Striking his brother in the side of the head and sending him crashing into the dust! He didn't relent though and pursued him! Not forsaking his sword and using it to batter his brother just as he had done him moments ago.

He didn't stop until he was just as bloody as he was. He still didn't stop until his brother's eyes fell shut. He breathed heavily from adrenaline. He turned towards his father, expecting some sort of congratulations. Only he found disdain and contempt. His father marched towards him and kicked him in the chest.

The orc boy coughed and looked up at his father.

"But I tried my best!"

"An orc should EARN their victory! Not be given it!" His father barked before kicking his brother to awaken him.

His brother's eyes barely fluttered open when his father seized him by his neck and held him up to his wrathful eyes.

"You don't EVER give an enemy a chance to strike you! If they should win it must be because they were stronger than you, not because you felt pity for them! To do so would dishonor your enemy and dishonor your death!"

His brother gasped and choked.

"But he's kin!"

"It doesn't matter if you share blood in your veins! An enemy is still an enemy! NEVER show them weakness!" His father bellowed before dropping his brother.

Their father turned around and stomped back towards their tent. The two brothers just numbly stared at his muscled, scarred, back as he left them down in the dust. Then they looked at one another. Both were beaten, bloody, and bruised. Yet both had learned something. Just not the same lesson it would seem.

-----

Sea of Sands.

Lorgash awoke drenched in sweat yet again. He grumbled as he freed himself from the mounds of flesh and hide that was his wives and bedding. He hated the heat, he thought. He only had those dreams, those memories, when the heat beat against him. He had them constantly since coming to this forsaken desert and he was welcoming getting what they needed and leaving it. Unlike all his other conquests, this place held little in anything worth of value. Barely any people to justify making the trek just for thralls. No worthwhile natural resources that couldn't be gained elsewhere. The only thing of any value here was the environment itself. The harsh desert was a good way to weed the chaff from the strong. The heat and lack of resources forcing those of his warhost to adapt or die just as all orcs strived for.

Yet even it had done far more than he had thought it would. Tens of thousands down to only a few hundred. If they did not find their goal and depart this place soon, he wouldn't fall to blade or axe but to heat and sand. A pitiful end for an orc warchief, he thought as he hauled himself from the mess of flesh, pelt, and sweat.

He went over to a water barrel in his tent and eagerly dunked his head into the cool liquid before taking deep gulps of it to refresh himself. He thought back to his memories as he let the coolness soak into him. His father had been right. As harsh as he was even for an orc, he was right. Never give your enemy an opening. He learned that on that day. But he didn't fully grasp it until his own brother tried to gut him in his sleep.

His brother was smaller and leaner than other orcs their age. That didn't change even as they grew. What did was how he grew bitter and skulked around more as they did. He had thought he was resentful towards their father. It wasn't until Lorgash challenged his father for the right to lead the tribe that he learned he had resented them both. After his father was lain to rest after being defeated in single combat, and after they all had their fill of meat and grog, his brother had crept through the camp to his own tent, and tried to kill him.

He wasn't sure what his plan was. No orc would follow him after such a dishonorable act. If anything they'd kill him then and there when they found out. He assumed that maybe he would try to lie to them. Say that it was someone else. But he never got the chance to. Despite having the element of surprise, he had easily laid low the orc he had called brother.

The punishment was death. But Lorgash still had some sympathy for him. Instead of death, he exiled him. Hoping that perhaps he would find honor elsewhere, or at least an honorable death, he thought as he left the tent as the others awoke and began to disassemble everything.

He marched into the blazing sun. His skin was cracked and reddened, just like all the others. None of them had gone unscathed from its heat. Food wasn't an issue as anything killed could be left out to dry easily enough. But water was scarce. Even more so since their "guide" had sacrificed their water ants.

He didn't trust him. Even less so since he and his scouts had begun to notice flickers of movement over the dunes. They seemed to be getting more frequent as they continued on, as the "guide" continued to use the sun stone to reflect surfaces of water along the way towards their goal.

While he hadn't led them astray yet, he had little doubt that they were nearing an end to their "cooperation" and that an ambush was imminent. When and where were now the deciding factors, the Warchief thought as the camp packed up once again and he marched towards where Magnus continued to argue with the catkin he had been given.

"No! You take some!" The former duke argued as he pushed the waterskin back towards the cat woman.

Instead of drinking from the waterskin though, she continued to hold onto it. Never taking a drink for herself in case her master needed it more than she did. Magnus groaned and rubbed his own reddened skin. Hissing in pain as he touched the cracked skin.

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"Still not listening, Magnus of Daele?" The Warchief asked as he neared.

The former duke turned a weary eye upon him.

"I have yet to see her drink anything. If she is a slave how come she does not do as I tell her to?"

"Perhaps she's come to care for you. I have little doubt you've treated her better than her former masters have." He rumbled.

"If she does care for me she should drink what she can." He said more towards his 'slave' than to the orcish warchief.

The orc chuckled and called for the warband to move out. His troops assembled and began to follow after him, Magnus, and their "guide". He walked now along with the rest. Their warg mounts fared longer than they feared, but not longer than they hoped for. His own had fallen to the heat the day before. What remained were beasts of burden that looked like even their hearty constitution would falter before too much longer.

He had little to do as they travelled. The heat made wanting to converse difficult as it battered down upon them almost constantly during the day. Normally they would travel at night, where the freezing cold was more manageable. But their "guide" had informed them that they were nearing their destination and so they marched on, intent on getting to their goal and leaving this infernal place once and for all.

But something had struck an interest in the Warchief. He turned towards Magnus as he continued to argue and insist the cat woman drink from their precious little water.

"What did the terrorbeast remind you of, Magnus of Daele?"

"What?" The former duke asked tiredly.

"The look on your face when you saw the beast. That wasn't the look one gets from seeing something new. It was the look of something seen before. An old fear. What was it then that made a terrorbeast the least fearful?"

The duke scoffed and walked on, ignoring the offered water from the cat woman and the Warchief's own questioning. Eventually he relented, either from the heat or because of boredom.

"Have you ever went hunting for a leviathan?"

"No. Never had the honor. But I have heard tales." The Warchief stated with interest.

"Well I have. When I was a young boy, I grew restless as all young boys are want to do. Especially the sons of royalty that feel restless and desire a bit of adventure." Magnus explained as they marched on.

"I take it hunting leviathans was what got your attention?"

"Aye. There were plenty of others that went out to sea. To hunt corsairs, or simply fishing. But leviathans? Those were the prize only the bravest sought after. Or perhaps the maddest. If one were to drink the blood of a leviathan a violet ring forms in their eyes. Showing to one and all that they braved the deadliest the sea had to offer and lived. The more blood, thus the more hunts, the thicker the ring became. When I heard of this, I wanted to be a part of that brotherhood. To prove to others that I wasn't some pampered dukeling."

The duke paused and took the waterskin offered by the cat woman with a frustrated sigh. He took only a couple gulps before handing it back to her with an order to drink. He went silent for many miles before continuing.

"When the time came for the next leviathan hunt, I snuck out. All nobles and royalty have places that they thought were so stealthy and secretive that allowed them a bit of time among the commonfolk. I took a newly discovered path in the hopes that I might get to the docks before my father's guards caught me and brought me back."

"I bought some simple sailor cloth and rubbed some dirt and muck on my face in the hopes of disguising me from anyone that might recognize me then ran down to the docks intent on having my adventure. When I got there, the captain of the leviathan fleet looked down on me with eyes that were almost fully violet! He asked me simple questions. Simply asked if I was of age and who to contact should I perish. I was and I gave them a name of one of my servant's family. With that I was pushed aboard the lead ship of the fleet."

Magnus sighed as they walked and glared up at the sun.

"When hunting leviathans, you never take a single ship. They are too big and aggressive. Instead you take nearly a dozen. If you are confident enough. Some hunts end up dragging well over twenty ships out to sea. I heard one time that they managed to gather a hundred that brought down some sort of whale that was bigger than the entire city!"

"Did you see it?" The Warchief asked.

"No. Never in the flesh that is. Sailors told me that the bones were all carved up and sold off. Could never tell if they were having a lark whenever I asked if some bit of ivory was from that monstrous whale and they gave me the ring around."

"So what was your task aboard the fleet?"

"As the newcomer aboard. I was little more than a cabin boy. I mopped. I peeled. I threw up. I scrubbed until my hands blistered. But if I knew what I did now I would never had even considered getting on that ship."

The Warchief cocked a brow at the duke who had paused and seemed to be collecting himself. He even took another swig of the waterskin, though more to comfort him than to slake his thirst before continuing.

"Want to know how they hunt leviathans? Four of the ships carry a large iron ball between them on a joined crane. It is so solid that the ships are at risk of capsizing during any light swell. On that ball are four small windows. Barely big enough to fit a hand through. Once we find a chum pond. A place where leviathans frequent enough that chunks of flesh float up and where vast flocks of seabirds and other scavengers go to feed on what is left. Once we find a place, they put someone into the iron ball. The one that is given that duty? The newcomer."

Magnus paused for a moment before seeming to gather his courage to continue.

"I was given a candle and forced into the ball. Was told that I would only be brought up under two conditions. Either when something grabbed me, or after a few minutes. I was told, repeatedly, that I had to wait until the ball was in place before lighting the candle. Otherwise I would run out of air long before they would bring me up. After that they sealed the thick latch that required six seasoned sailors to secure, and then dropped me down into the water."

"I panicked almost immediately as the ball sunk fast. The foamy red water making way to deep blue, then pitch blackness. I watched as creatures of the sea swam away or gave the iron ball a curious tap before darting away in disinterest until they grew scarce. I did not feel anything as I was dropped leagues under the water except for the pressure of the sea that pressed against the only thing between me and the dark depths. Then the ball shuddered as the chain reached its end. By then I had soiled myself. But I kept true and didn't light my candle until after I felt the chain go taught. It was almost blinding after being in nothing but darkness for so long. But the view was breathtaking. Through the small windows I could see things flitting in the beams of light. Some were small, but looked like something from a whole other world. But on occasion something big would come by and tap against the ball before swimming away. None I ever wanted to see ever again."

"For a long while all I could feel was my air slowly going out as the candle consumed what little air I had. Or the creaking and groaning of the iron ball as the depths pushed against it with all its might. It gave me only small comfort to find the inside of the ball was riddled in Dwarven Runes that I hadn't noticed in my state of panic and fear before, even the small windows were covered in them. But what small comfort I got from it was replaced my fear and terror as I saw something through one of the windows. Something that looked right at me."

"From a distance it looked no bigger than my finger. But the way it looked at me, and the way it moved. I knew it had to be bigger. It looked like some kind of pike mixed with a crocodile. It was almost motionless in the water that I thought for a second that I was hallucinating. Then it shot at me. Faster than something that big had any right to be. The ball jerked from the impact and my candle went out from the quick movement. Plunging me into the dark once again. I could not see anything anymore. But I could feel, and hear, as the beast assaulted the only thing between me and death. The iron groaned and screeched while the glass cracked from the attack. Then I felt the ball lurch as it was pulled upwards. Heard the beast roar a ungodly roar that still haunts my nightmares some nights. Then it pursued. The ball lurched and bucked as it was brought up not nearly as rapidly as it had sunk. The whole time that monster bit and thrashed against me. I managed to relight the candle. It gave me enough light to see the the inside of the beast's terrible maw. Then with another glamp of its jaws a window cracked enough that a stream of seawater began to flood in. I dropped the candle and was in the dark once again until we entered a part of the water that light from the sun could reach."

"The water was empty now. All those feasting beasts and birds were long gone. I said a thousand prayers in a single breath by the time I breached the water and was greeted to the sight of open sky once again. But my task was not yet done. The beast was tenacious and didn't want to let me go just yet. Something the fleet counted on as hundreds of sailors threw everything they had at it. Harpoons, spears, arrows, even some ballistae mounted on some of the ships, what few mages we had threw spells at it as well. Anything and everything was hurled at it. Some even drew swords or axes and climbed the rigging to throw themselves at its hide with fishhooks to keep them on it as they hacked away."

"I imagine it was quite a prize." The Warchief stated with respect.

"I am sure it would have. If it did not eventually decide that I was not worth it and let go. Sending me crashing through the crane and by the grace of the Blessed Goddess barely managing not to be thrown into the sea as well. And dragging as many men that were still attached to it down into the darkness with it."

"It escaped?"

"It did. It happens. Leviathans do not get that big or ferocious by being stupid. Many are smart enough to know when a meal just is not worth it. Eventually the crew managed to free me from my torment and I soiled myself yet again as well as emptying my stomach onto the nearest thing there was, which turned out to be my captain. He was not near as mad as I thought he would be. He smacked me on the back good-naturedly as the entire crew laughed at me. Said to ignore them, that they all had to go through being leviathan bait. Told me to go get clean and changed and for us to make our way back to port for repairs and other business."

"So we did. Despite the teasing, plenty of sailors gave me more respect just for surviving the ordeal. Said that plenty of others didn't make it. Some either panicked and lit their candle far too soon and suffocated down in the dark alone, or the iron ball ruptured from impact with a leviathan, or some simply died from fear and terror. I felt somewhat better. While I didn't get leviathan blood to drink, I got plenty of respect that has followed since. What little good mood I had vanished when we returned and I saw my father coming down the docks with his guards."

"Turns out, my disguise wasn't as good as I thought it was. While the captain was questioning me, he sent a runner to the castle to inform my father. His response? Let the boy go. Either he'll die a fool or live long enough to be wiser for it. And wiser I was for it. I never snuck out to join leviathan hunts ever again. Never got close to the sea for many years after that. When my father passed and I became Duke, one of the first trials I oversaw was that of a murderer. The man in question? My old captain. His eyes were completely violet. Slaughtered his entire family and then some. Said the deeps needed to be fed, needed to be sated. After his execution, and the increasing cases of leviathan hunters going madder the more leviathan blood they drank, as well as the mounting cost in life for each hunt, I banned them. Didn't start them up again until some years back when fishing in general was getting low and leviathans were becoming more of a threat. Not like it did any good. Lost more than enough ships and men from the hunts with little to show for it except widows and orphans."

"So that was what I saw when I beheld the terrorbeast. I saw myself back down in the depths. Face to face with a monster that lurked within them." Magnus concluded before going silent as they continued to walk into the desert.

They walked along in silence after that. Magnus having his fill of conversation, and the Warchief looking at the former duke with a bit more respect. He had hunted large beasts in the plains before becoming warchief. Even more so afterwards. To hear that there were humans that had that same drive, that same sense of glory as well, earned man a bit more respect in his eyes.

After a few more days of travel, they reached their goal at last. As they crested a large dune they came upon it. A large temple of sandstone built on solid reddish stone. At its center was a large dome that spanned many miles. The guide gestured towards it with a sly smile.

"I give to you. The temple of Sytrix, The Record Keeper."