Held firm in my mother’s muscular embrace, we headed out into the expansive Orc city. Though the morning was just beginning, hundreds upon hundreds of Orcs marched around to perform various tasks. As we traveled, my mother would speak to me with a soft voice. Were I able to understand her, I bet she’d be explaining the various functions of the buildings that we passed. Upon further inspection, many buildings were made of more than just timber and animal hide. Many included stone in their construction, such as one of the larger buildings crafted from carefully cut stone blocks patched together with what looked to be some form of cement. The massive chimney from where smoke constantly billowed and the loud banging of metals clearly marked this as some type of blacksmith.

One of many judging by the multiple blooms of smoke flying into the air.

My mother made small talk with others that carried babies of their own as we passed through the city. I paid them little mind however, as I was far more interested in the tanners that laid out hides to dry in the warming sun for the day, the stalls that gave away food and drink to any who approached, and innumerable homes from which denizens constantly emerged. This was beyond anything I had ever imagined such a savage society could ever achieve. In fact, this went far beyond savage society. These Orcs were civilized! We had been walking for over ten minutes and I hadn’t seen a single street brawl. I felt quite unsettled by my assumptions proving incorrect, it called into question my very thin grasp of fantasy stereotypes. Whats next, Elves that aren’t stupid and actually rule the world?

‘Perhaps I missed something important in my skimming…’ I sighed in my mind as I prepared to do the one thing I hated most, reading. ‘Learn more, Orcs.’

Orc:

Hardy denizens of the world of Alrand, the Orcs live in small, brutish collectives known as Clans. These Clans are led by the biggest and the strongest of all the Orcs, titled as Chief. The Chief leads the Orcs in all things from scrounging for food and their tribal rituals, to raids and war. Native to the heavily-wooded marshes of the Mire, they are used to rough terrain and are natural hunters and ambushers. Some Orcs are said to have the ability to commune with spirits of their ancestors in order to guide them to areas that are bountiful with animals to hunt. These Orcs are given the title Shaman and are the second most important member of a Clan and are capable of some small amount of spell-casting.

While they are inhumanly strong and able to withstand the most grievous of wounds, they are among the most impotent spell-casters. Not that there are many Orcish Mages, as their martial society promotes physical strength over that of arcane advancement. An average Orc will live to about thirty-five years old. The reason for it being so low is often due to their eagerness for battle. Were they not so driven towards fighting impossible battles, they could live beyond the standard hundred years that a human does. Their natural division between clans leads them to not being considered a threat to the more civilized nations of Alrand.

‘Orcepedia, your information is either wrong or seriously outdated.’ I grumbled in my mind as I looked out to the horizon to see farms being tended to by my green-skinned brethren. ‘Orc farmers, just what has this world come to?’ Had I the ability, I’d laugh at the sheer strangeness of such a sight. Yet all I could do at the moment was stare, drool, and make a light ‘goo’ sound. Almost everything about that information was wrong. This was no small Clan, we weren’t living in swampland, and I swear that I saw old Orcs walking around with canes to support their frail bodies. The only parts about that entry that were correct was that they were a martial society, as every Orc that I glanced at had the Warrior or Ranger class below their names. Some even had new ones I hadn’t yet seen, such as lightly armored Orcs wielding pairs of wicked-looking axes being Berserkers. Another type were the ones wielding bows or javelins with some form of animal, such as feral-looking dogs that I assumed to be wolves, or some type of large cat, following them being Hunters. I chose not to examine them though, their roles were pretty self explanatory.

Besides, if the Orc entry was mostly wrong, how much more of the information that I would read would be incorrect as well? Could I even trust these systems? Sadly, without another frame of reference, there was no way for me to tell what was correct or incorrect. I’d be forced to take everything I read with a grain of salt and temper it with experience.

‘So much for an easy cheat sheet.’ I griped.

“Mugo’grok Zakka dan Kotek Zaban.” My mother spoke as she held me out to an elderly stranger wearing light colored robes. The old man, possibly woman, I don’t know, I’m not an Orcologist, bowed their head and accepted me into their wrinkled hands. Another Orc mother passed her own baby to the elder holding me speaking her own Orcish lingo. With practiced motions, the elder held both of us babies without looking the least bit uncomfortable. After handing the two of us off, my mother and her companion strode off. ‘So what, is this Orc considered the designated Daycare Orc?’ I pondered as I looked up at my new acquaintance. A kind smile greeted me as they noticed my attention. Yup she was a female as her tusks weren’t as pronounced as a male’s.

But most striking was her class.

Zakka Jir’iroc Lvl 18 Shaman

‘Learn More, Shaman.’ I commanded in my mind.

Shaman

Orc Exclusive

Shamans are Orcish ritualists who beseech the spirits of their ancestors for aide. While many Magi doubt the validity of such claims, the spellcraft that Shamans bring to bare are not to be questioned. From healing magics to destructive spells, the Shaman is a versatile opponent and one must always be wary when engaged in battle with one. The Shaman classification appears to be inherited, as the only observed way of creating more Shamans is through long apprenticeships to an already established Shaman. Thankfully, due to the Orcs’ natural developments, one possessing the qualifications to ascend to Shaman-hood is very rare. At most, a Clan will only contain two to three Shaman.

‘Strange…this description looks like it was written more like a report than an assessment of the class…what the hell?’ Things just kept getting stranger and stranger in this world. I’d have to keep these thoughts to myself for now, not that I had a choice. There would be a time for answers, and I would seek them out as soon as I could. First though, I had other matters to attend to, like why my mother left me with this old woman.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Looking around curiously, I discovered that my mother had brought me to a clearing within the city. Various logs and stools, many of which that were already occupied, surrounded a large ring filled with what appeared to be sand. Within the ring were two young Orc children with the Villager class. They wore only their loincloths as they punched and kicked at one another with frenzied motions. Their faces scrunched with concentration as they traded blow after blow.

While I’m no professional fighter, it was obvious even to me that they were making a lot of mistakes. Overextension being the main offender among both of them. Not to toot my own horn, but I could have taken them…if I were the same age as them that is. ‘No don’t block that! Grab his arm dammit! Argh, you’re useless!’ I cried out in my mind as I watched the fight unfold. Before long, the two were exhausted, but one got a lucky punch in and knocked the other flat on their ass.

As the young Orc raised his arms in victory and roared into the sky, a peculiar sight caught my eye. The status below his name had changed from ‘Villager Level 2’ to ‘Villager Level 3’.

‘Interesting…very interesting. So fighting others can get you experience…’ The gears in my mind began to turn as I considered my options. ‘Perhaps staying in this city wont be so bad…’ the thought of power-leveling off other Orc children made me smile with glee. ‘And it won’t even be considered child abuse! Child protective services have no power here!’

“Thung ol’tor kon Kotek.” The elderly Orc spoke to me softly as she gently moved me to a better position. “Dabba sol kon.” Her words were clear as soon as I saw the next two challengers to enter the ring. Flexing her muscles, my mother stepped into the ring facing her acquaintance that she had left with. With a guttural bark, the two moved at each other with fury.

‘Kick her ass, mom!’ I cheered in my mind as a yawn escaped my mouth. ‘Kick…her…ass…’

———————————————

The sound of flesh colliding with flesh cracked across the dueling ring as Dabba and Hokka fought against one another in a brutal frenzy. Kicks and punches flew at one another in unbridled fury as the two did their best to land successful attacks against one another. Compared to the match that had taken place before, the audience watching were all at the edge of their seats. It was one thing to see younglings fight one another for practice, it was another to see two accomplished warriors of the Clan duel. The rivalry between Dabba and Hokka was well known, and many a Orc had shown up when the two were seen walking towards the dueling ring.

“Your moves are sluggish.” Hokka taunted as she blocked a series of Dabba’s attacks. “Perhaps you should rest longer after giving us a child.” Dabbad growled in response.

“I could birth five children and still crush you.” Hokka roared at Dabba and rushed forward with a series of punches. Dabba watched her opponent closely as she blocked strike after strike. An instant later, her patience paid off. Hokka had left her chest open to attack. Seizing the opportunity, Dabba struck like lightning, only to feel a sharp crack of pain run up her leg as Hokka spun away from the attack and into a kick.

Dabba clenched her fists and focused her mind as she danced backwards from Hokka. The faint sting of pain throbbed on her left calf from the kick she had taken. ‘Stupid.’ She scolded herself and growled. Hokka had left her center exposed, only to strike like a wicked serpent the moment Dabba sought to land a blow. Dabba felt her blood boil as she circled her friend, eager to pounce like Grefane, Lord of the Mire.

“Rah!” Dabba cried out as she rushed forward in an explosion of energy. A series of rapid punches and kicks thrashed against one another as the two women fought. With a quick hand, Dabba grabbed Hokka by the arm mid-punch and pulled her forward with all her strength. With wide eyes, Hokka fell forwards right into Dabba’s waiting fist. Fist met flesh as Dabba’s fist cracked solidly against Hokka’s cheek. A cry of rage echoed through the town as the audience cheered the solid blow.

With a snarl, Hokka pushed back against Dabba, freeing herself, before launching a series of kicks towards her opponent. With the grace of a predator on the hunt, Dabba dodged backwards from the assault. As soon as Hokka’s attacking foot touched the sand, Dabba rushed forward with a series of hard jabs aimed at Hokka’s torso. Once more, Hokka found herself on the defensive as she desperately blocked punch after punch. A grunt of pain escaped her lips as a powerful blow landed directly into her stomach.

Desperation began to fill Hokka’s eyes as she gnashed her teeth together. She had to win. She was the first to birth her child, she was the more successful huntress, she had caught the eye of the stronger male. But despite all her success, fighting and beating Dabba was never a clear affair. She had lost as often as she had won, and loathed the thought that they were equal. Fury boiled her blood as she roared her defiance.

“I claim victory this day!” She yelled as her fists flew. Once yellow eyes now glowed dark red with fury as the strength and speed of her attacks grew. Dabba grimaced as she dodged and blocked, Hokka had harnessed the power of her Bloodrage. It was a technique that only the strongest of Orc warriors could unleash. The Shamans often spoke of the Bloodrage being a gift from Grefane himself, and Dabba believed it. Were she a regular Orc, she would have fallen easily. But as it was, she managed to dodge what attacks she could, and blocked the rest. Hokka’s barrage left no openings for counters.

Blow after blow rained upon Dabba’s arms as she did all she could to avoid exposing herself to a direct hit. She knew from experience that Hokka only needed to land one good hit to finish this duel. Dabba could not let that happen, not in front of her newborn child. To do so would bring her shame she had never known before.

‘Kirkotek, grant me guidance!’ Dabba desperately prayed to the Mistress of the Skies. Her heart thrummed inside her chest as she watched Hokka’s movements closely. Her foe’s face twisted in glee at Dabba’s inability to strike back. A cool chill ran down her spine as she watched her opponents movements begin to slow ever so slightly. All sound became muted and distant. ‘This is!’ Dabba gasped as she felt everything around her slow even further. What was once an unending barrage of bone-shattering attacks became little more than the regular strikes the two of them had traded earlier.

And Dabba effortlessly blocked each attack.

Hokka’s face shifted slowly from raging glee to uncertainty, the red glow of her eyes dissipating entirely.

‘Now!’ Dabba cried out in her mind. A roar surged from within as she put all of her strength into her next attack. Pain erupted in her right shoulder as one of Hokka’s punches collided with her, but she paid it no mind. With everything she had, her fist flew straight into Hokka’s stomach. The moment her attack connected, the world returned to it’s normal pace. Hokka gaped wordlessly as she fell to her knees, clutching her chest. Her surprise worn clearly for all to see.

Silence engulfed the duel ring as the audience gaped at the two fighters. Dabba’s labored breathing the only sound anyone could hear. A moment later, Hokka fell face-first into the sands. Elders rushed forward to heal the fallen warrior, already chanting their incantations to request aide from the spirits.

Exhausted, Dabba began walking from the ring towards Zakka. Despite the sweat dripping off of her darkened skin, she couldn’t wait to hold her child once more in her arms and revel in her victory. Slowly, the adrenalin subsided and her breathing calmed as she reached Zakka, only the smile in bemusement at the sight. There, nestled in Zakka’s arm was her child, sleeping peacefully.

“The boy fell asleep the moment the match started.” Zakka whispered as she gently handed over the baby. With careful hands, Dabba gratefully took her child from the aged Shaman.

“A shame.” Dabba sighed happily as she cradled him close to her chest.

“Dabba!” A ragged voice called out from behind. Dabba turned to see Hokka walk towards her as if the fight had never happened. “A good fight.”

“May we have many more.” Dabba inclined her head to her opponent.

“And we shall.” Hokka grinned as she noted the sleeping child. “Missed the duel?” Dabba grunted in response. “A shame. Children learn by example, the teaching must begin young.”

“Mmm.” Dabba nodded and watched Hokka take back her own child which slept just as peacefully.

“It seems our children shared the same exhaustion.” Hokka grumbled. “Until next time.”

“Until next time.” Dabba responded.

Without another word, the two went their separate ways.