Kor grumbled as he sat guard, his dirty hand scratching at the fat that hung off his second chin. “What do you think caused that big boom up there?” He asked, turning to his fellow orc, who was currently messing around with his broken ax.
“Shit, if Urg knows. The only thing Urg knows is that we stay here and guard,” Urg grumbled. The orc scratched at his scalp as he held the ax up to inspect it. The blade then fell off onto the longship’s deck.
“Dammit!” Urg cursed in frustration before he moved to reassemble his ax. “Why are we here anyway?”
“Guarding meat for tonight’s feast. We’re going to kill and cook them here.” Kor responded, his eyes moving to the club in his hand. It was a sturdy piece of wood made long ago during Blood-Irk’s raids on barbarian lands. He would prefer it over that shiny rapier he had snatched from Fir earlier that day.
“Errr, but there is no butcher?”
“Our butcher went off to get more meat from the tent, remember?” Kor reminded the other orc, watching as the slow idiot processed his words. The butcher, Dras, had gone off to fetch one of the main courses, that of traitor Silas. Kor gritted his teeth at the thought of that blasphemous orc. How the bastard had tried to kill Blood-Irk for doing what was natural, which was eating the flesh of their foes. Thankfully, Silas was next up on the cutting board, with even Blood-Irk proclaiming that the traitor would be cooked and eaten for his crimes against the tribe.
“Hmmm, Dras is taking much longer to get the meat,” Kor mumbled, his head moving to look at where the tents were. They were the closest to the encampment, their longship’s bridge connected to the dirt that made the camp’s foundation. He can see the flames in the distance, how they emitted pillars of smoke from the burning tents.
“Blood-Irk is going to have someone’s head if they don’t get that fire under control.” His focus on the tents was suddenly broken by the sound of rattling chains, the source of which was below the deck.
“Let Dog out! Dog will kill all of you!”
Kor sighed as he stepped to the hatch that led below the decks. “Shut up, you animal! You aren’t going to do shit!” Kor shouted. The crazed orc imprisoned below shouted some more, his chains rattling audibly.
“Dog did nothing wrong!”
“You sided with that traitor, Silas! You even tried to bite Blood-Irk before he knocked you out!”
“Errr! Blood-Irk asshole! Dog don’t like human meat! Dog like humans alive!” The prisoner shouted.
“You’re a delusional idiot,” Kor mumbled, shaking his head as he looked towards Urg. Urg seemed to be focused on his ax, which now seemed to be together again. Kor watched as Urg did a couple of practice swings with the weapon, which thankfully stayed together.
Kor soon heard the sounds of footsteps walking up the bridge behind him. Multiple footsteps, in fact. It seemed as if Dras had brought more humans than necessary. The orc sighed as he turned to the deck bridge.
“Dras, you were only supposed to get one of—”
Kor’s eyes widened in surprise as a round shield’s edge struck against his jaw and lips. The orc recoiled back from the impact, his teeth definitely broken now. Kor spat the blood and teeth from his mouth, his eyes blinking a few times before he finally focused on the attacker. It was a bearded human, armored in leather, as he held onto a shield stained with Kor’s blood. It looked like one of the many round shields the orcs had taken from that town days ago. The blond human also carried a short sword, and a broadsword was slung over his back. Kor glimpsed the grin underneath the human’s steel helm, the sight infuriating the orc.
“You little–!”
Before Kor could do anything, someone else joined in. They suddenly shoved him, pushing him further back onto the deck. Kor then saw the flash of steel, and his reflexes kicked in. He raised his armored gauntlet, a rusted ax head burying itself into his forearm. It bypassed the cheap leather vambrace he wore, sending specks of blood flying. While painful, the attack was stopped short. A wounded forearm was better than his jaw getting lopped off. Kor looked at his second attacker, and his blood boiled at the sight of the traitor’s cocky grin.
“Remember me?” Silas asked before he pulled his ax from Kor’s arm. Kor backed away, holding his club up with no trouble.
“I’ll kill you for that!” he exclaimed, gritting his teeth as he kept his distance. Kor examined his opponents, the human, and the traitor. He risked a quick glance at Urg, wanting to know his situation. His fellow orc was currently fighting with an armored dwarf and three other humans who had scraps of armor and clothing on them.
‘He’ll be fine. He is well armored and trained.’
“I see you killed Dras and took his armor?” Kor called out to Silas, who held the aforementioned orc’s ax.
“That was him? I couldn’t tell from the way his head was. It looked like that of a burst melon,” Silas taunted with another one of his shit-eating grins.
“Bastard!” Kor shouted, and he rushed toward the traitorous orc before him.
In his rage, however, he had forgotten about the human. Kor felt a sharp pain at his side, making him halt as he winced. He turned to the source of the pain, his focus on the human from before. The orc could see how this man had a bloodstained short sword in his hand, its tip positioned for another attack. Kor wasted no time, his club swinging at the human in front of him.
Just as the club was about to strike, however, the man dropped like a sack of potatoes, ass hitting the deck as the Kor’s weapon missed his head. It was strange, but Kor used the momentum from his initial swing to spin around and make a second advance on the human, aiming straight for his arm. The human quickly blocked with his round shield, taking the hit head-on.
The club struck true, sending the human onto the ground from its impact. As Kor moved to advance, Silas swiftly swung a rusted ax at him, interrupting his movement. Kor blocked and dodged the attacks, his club taking most of the swings headed at him.
“Sloppy!” Kor shouted, his foot kicking at Silas’ shins, making the other orc lose his footing. Kor took the chance to attack, swinging his club at Silas’ chest. Success. The other orc stumbled back from the impact, his ax dropping as he fell onto the deck. Kor raised his club above his head, ready to finish Silas off. He felt another sharp pain at his side, this time much more excruciating, as a blade was twisted into his open wound.
“Agh! Fucker!” Kor cursed, his head swiveling to see the blond man from earlier, his hands twisting a short sword’s handle. Kor didn’t give him time to react, his fist punching the human right in his armored face. The human flew back, helmet flying off as he landed on the deck. Kor winced again, realizing that the human had left his short sword inside the orc’s side.
Kor gritted his teeth as he pulled the blade out of his flesh quickly and brutally, some blood staining the armor he was wearing.
‘How did that human recover so quickly? I surely broke his arm when I hit him. Shield or no shield.’
“Damn human,” the orc muttered, dropping the short sword as he caught his breath. He turned to Silas, who was still trying to recover.
“I’m going to enjoy tearing you apart,” Kor called out to the traitor. “Bring your head to Blood-Irk himself.” Kor kicked at the orc, and his club moved to take a finishing blow. Before he could kill Silas, however, his eyes caught something quick passing by him, the movement stunning him for a bit.
“What the…?” The orc blinked, his head moving to see what had just passed him. He soon felt something sharp stab into his calf, drawing a pained yell from the orc.
“Who the—?” Another stab of pain interrupted the orc. His head swiveled to see a gnome at his side, a large dagger in his hand as he stabbed at Kor’s exposed weak points.
“Agh! You little!” Kor shouted as he tried to grab at the nuisance. The gnome was too fast, his agile legs moving him out of reach for the orc. Kor felt another stab at his left, his eyes spotting another gnome at his side.
“Little bastards!” Kor reached out once more, this time certain he was going to grab the little shit. Unfortunately for Kor, the orc would fail. His exposed left hand was suddenly chopped down by the edge of a broadsword, the blade cutting all the way to the bones of his fingers.
Kor shouted out in agony, his eyes moving up to see the human from before. His helmet was gone, exposing messy blond hair and scuffed beard to the wind. He was damp with sweat and blood, his dark blue eyes staring down at the orc with renewed strength. Kor watched as the man stomped on the orc’s wrist, pulling the broadsword out with some effort. Kor winced and screamed from the action. Still, he did not plan on giving up despite the agony. He used this chance to grab his club with his right, moving to swing at the human before him.
The blond man quickly backed away, the club missing its mark as it slammed against the deck. His boot kicked at Kor’s wrist, forcing the orc to drop his weapon. With a shout full of vigor, the human went for another swing at the orc’s exposed arm. He missed his mark, the broadsword deflecting off Kor’s armguard. Kor took this chance to disarm the human.
This man somehow dodged his grasping hand, almost as if he had perfect reflexes. Kor’s eyes widened as he watched the man’s boot rise again, this time aimed at the orc’s exposed face. Kor recoiled back from the blow, feeling the blood trickle down his nose and mouth. He spat the oily substance out, trying to get his bearings as he stifled the bleeding with his good hand.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Had enough yet?” the human asked right after, clearly out of breath. He was slouched over as if his sword weighed like cement.
“Damn you! I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do!” Kor shouted. He slowly moved to pick himself up, feet stumbling as he did so. He fell to the ground on his knees, his body feeling weak.
“That’s a shame, then. Because it won’t be,” the human answered, puffs of vapor coming out of his bloodied lips.
Before Kor could say anything to the damnable bastard in front of him, he noticed a tall shadow cast over him. His eyes widened, and he turned to see the towering form of Silas, ax raised above his head.
Kor started to shout, to say anything, to have his last words actually mean something.
In the end, the orc settled for “You wo–” before his head was cleaved in half. The last thing Kor ever saw before the darkness came was that of Silas, the Traitor.
----------------------------------------
James fell back onto the deck, his lungs taking in the cold, frigid air as he rested his overheated body. He watched as Silas pulled at his rusted ax, wrenching it from the dead orc’s skull.
“Thanks for the save,” James sighed in relief, his hand dropping Edmund’s broadsword onto the deck.
“Is he dead?” One gnome on the other side asked, a dagger in his bruised hands.
“He isn’t getting up soon,” James muttered, the taste of blood and blackberries on his tongue. He made a face, spitting at the deck to his right. There was a red tinge in his spit due to his cut lip. “So yeah, he’s dead,” James added clearly, groaning as he slowly stood back up again.
The gnome sighed in relief, his small hands dropping the dagger. However, his friend was still adamant against the green fiend, his dagger stabbing at the bleeding corpse.
“Die! Die! Bastard!” the gnome shouted angrily, most of his strikes bouncing off the armor rather than piercing the flesh.
‘Feisty fellow, isn’t he?’ Faust commented.
James raised an eyebrow at the raging gnome before he moved in to pull the enraged fighter off of the dead orc.
“He’s dead,” James reiterated, furrowing his brow at the gnome. The dagger wielder caught his breath, a look of manic rage in his eyes as he panted heavily.
“Bastards took everything! Destroyed our home!” The small man shouted in clear despair.
James watched the gnome scream out his frustrations and even throw his dagger at the corpse. He felt nothing but sympathy for the former prisoner, knowing well that the gnome had had a hellish experience these last few days.
“The day’s not over yet, my friend,” Silas commented, his hand picking up the sturdy club the dead orc dropped. “There’s plenty of time for us to get our revenge on those bastards.” The orc grinned as he examined the club, wiping away some of the blood that stained it. James frowned at the sight of the club, his arm radiating with pain as he recalled the blow that nearly broke his Carapace spell.
‘That asshole almost broke my arm from that single blow. Just how strong was he?’
James looked over the dead corpse to his left. His eyebrow raised when he spotted something shiny. James bent over, his hand reaching for the orc’s belt. After some struggling with the straps, James pulled out a sheathed rapier, its hilt shining silver.
“I was wondering where you were,” the young man muttered. He unsheathed the weapon, his eyes focusing on the rapier’s thin blade, which was uniquely engraved with runes.
‘Delilah, was it?’ James questioned mentally, Faust’s voice coming in to respond a second later.
‘Ha! Almost forgot about that ridiculous elf and his rapier. Do you think he’ll cry if we reunite him with his precious sword?’ The spirit asked in an amused tone.
‘Well, let’s just hope he’s not among the dead first,’ James responded before he sheathed the rapier.
He looked over to where Bjorn was earlier, remembering that the dwarf had taken on the second orc guard. James was met with the sight of the mercenary resting and drinking out of his flask while the group of humans next to him kicked at the dead corpse of the orc. James watched as Bjorn shared his drink with the other dwarf prisoner, who gladly took the steel flask with a grin.
‘They seemed to have had an easier time dealing with their orc,’ the young man thought with envy, rubbing at his hurting arm.
“Alright then, let’s get started on freeing the prisoners below,” James called out, his hand picking up his short sword and Edmund’s blade.
Silas nodded in agreement, holstering his ax as he slung the club over his back. “Let’s get to it then. The faster we get done with this, the faster we leave this hellhole.”
“Agreed,” Bjorn seconded as he stood back up, heading his way to where James and Silas were.
“You think you can get his hatch open?” James asked as he eased Edmund’s broadsword back into its sheath, his other hand propping the awkwardly placed scabbard so the sword could slide in. Bjorn scoffed at that, his shield hand already preparing to bash at the hatch near James and Silas.
“There’s no need for that.” Silas stepped in, raising a hand to stop Bjorn. He raised a hand, jingling a set of keys that had specks of blood on them. The orc crouched near the locked hatch, his oversized hands fumbling with each of the keys as he tried to open the hatch. As the orc did his job, James noticed a disappointed look on Bjorn’s face.
“I didn’t know you enjoyed bashing locks so much,” James commented, using the hem of his tunic to clean his short sword.
“It’s not that,” the dwarf revealed, sighing as he scratched at his beard. “I was looking forward to a challenge today, but…” he grumbled as he looked back at the rescued prisoners, who were currently dragging the bodies off to the side.
“Yeah, there wasn’t as much fighting as I thought there was going to be,” James agreed, his eyes scanning the encampment nearby. He squinted his eyes into the distance, watching as more plumes of smoke rose into the sky, darkening the clouds even more. “I’m sure Haggard is having his fair share of action,” James mumbled, his hand sweeping back the dampened mess that was his hair.
He heard the telltale sound of a lock clicking, signifying that his short time of rest was over. James sighed as he picked up his fallen helmet and sturdy shield, courtesy of Aldren’s pillaged armory. He looked down at the steel helm, noticing how much more scuffed and dented it was compared to the shining piece of armor it was at the beginning of their adventure.
‘Remind me to go back to that dwarf blacksmith in Vindis after this is all over.’
James turned to the rest of the freed prisoners, who all seemed to want to follow the young man beneath the decks.
“You should all stay up here,” James offered, his hand gesturing towards the open hatch. “I doubt there’s much space down there, so I think it’s best if you all stay out here, stand guard and such.” He watched as some of their reactions soured to his words, but none of the men seemed to complain.
James nodded, turning back to the open space below him. With little of a word, James followed Bjorn, slipping into the open hatch. The first thing that hit James was the smell of what he could describe as ‘sour sweat,’ the disgusting stench outrivaling the one back in the tent. He covered his nose and mouth with a gloved hand as he walked around the dark space beneath the longship’s deck, his eyes squinting through the sparse light. This was much more spacious than James had expected from the longship, especially since it was smaller than Frostbite. Just as the young man was about to ask Silas something, he was suddenly met with the loud sound of chains yanking against metal, making James jump from surprise.
“Shit!” James cursed out, his hand quickly going for his short sword.
“Free Dog! Dog want out! Let Dog go!” a growling voice called out. James stopped, his eyes focusing on the source. There was an orc that he hadn’t noticed, this one’s arms and legs bound with chains. The orc was a lighter green than most, his eyes frantically looking over James and his companions.
“What the…?” James muttered before Silas stepped up to the orc, his hand raised at the strange brute.
“Down Dog,” Silas ordered, his voice commanding and strict. The orc did as ordered, his body relaxing as he sat down.
“Uh…?” James questioned, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at Silas.
The orc sighed as he swept back some of his coarse hair. “Dog is one of my companions. He’s strange, as you can see.”
“No shit,” Bjorn commented, the dwarf looking at ‘Dog’ with a look of confusion.
“Why does he call himself Dog?” James inquired, watching as Silas moved to unlock the chains on the orc, the lock of which was connected to a rod on the floor.
“A few months back, he fell off one of our longships. We thought he was dead until a month later when we found him in an abandoned settlement. Turns out, he had washed up there and survived by befriending a group of canines that lived on the island… and somehow lost a good deal of his own sanity. He only listens to me and won’t hurt humans unless provoked,” Silas explained, standing back up as the lock and rod dropped onto the ground.
“Dog, stand,” Silas ordered. The orc named Dog slowly stood up, his scarred body now much more visible to James. He could see claw marks, long scars, and even what looked like burns.
“Dog no like the smell on the human,” the orc muttered, sniffing the air as he turned to James. “Stinks of the dead, human dead,” Dog growled.
James blinked, confused at what the hell this orc was talking about. He hadn’t killed a single soul his entire life, not even any of the orcs he had fought beforehand. At least, not counting the two abominations he had put down in the last week. Then again…
‘Does he smell you, Faust?’ James realized that the orc focused on the spirit that inhabited his body.
‘If he really can, then we might have a problem,’ Faust murmured.
“Everything smells like death down here, you overgrown idiot,” a voice suddenly called out, catching the attention of everyone. James felt a grin come onto his face as he came eye to eye with a certain black-haired elf, a scowl painting his face as he raised his chains. “Are you going to get me out of here or what? I feel disgusting breathing in this stench!” Archibald complained loudly, pulling on his chains.
“You’re one to complain,” another voice answered, this one gruff and boisterous. James turned to see another orc in chains, along with what seemed to be another couple of imprisoned orcs next to him. “We’ve been breathing in this stench for Dremor knows how long! Silas! Quit gawking like a fool and get us out of here!”
As James’ eyes adjusted to the faint light, he could see more human prisoners nearby where Archibald was, including a certain mercenary who was gagged.
“Mmmf! Jmms!” Edmund exclaimed, his gag muffling his voice and words. As a result, other prisoners awakened nearby, their own voices shouting out for help, not unlike the last time James was put in this position. Bjorn sighed audibly, adjusting the shield on his left as he stepped up to James.
“So, I free the ones on the left?”
“And I free the ones on the right,” James finished, readying his round shield as he looked to Silas, who was already moving to free his own companions. James sighed, stepping up to Archibald, his round shield ready to bash away the lock that held the elf captive.