Harb walked through the camp with the two sentries escorting him. He did get some strange looks; he was large enough to stand out, and his darker color was a stark contrast to every Orc that he passed. He quickly read the description of Dire Orc in his interface. Dire Orcs: Thought to be the progenitors of the Orcish race, they now live alone or in small communities. They are larger, smarter, and more vicious than the common Orc. They usually choose to live underground but have been known to reside in strongholds. Unlike the Orc ability of night vision, the millennia of time spent in mountain caves or subterranean realms have given the Dire Orcs the dark vision ability. Dire Orcs are fierce fighters and should be avoided. Harb was unsure what would happen if the Orcs found out what he was—if they didn’t know already—and he decided to see if he could pass as a regular Orc for the time being.
As they walked, he saw different types of Orcs; the larger Orc escort was clearly one of the soldiers. They had metal armor, and each wielded an axe, scimitar, war hammer, or mace. The fellow with the bandolier was one of the scouts, and apparently the ammunition housed within his bandolier was poisoned darts instead of bullets. There were also some who were doing labor within the camp.
Harb noticed as he moved around the encampment that there were no female Orcs. That meant that this was not the entire clan. The design of the village was another indicator that this was not their permanent residence. This group of Orcs must be a contingent that was tasked with raiding or skirmishing for resources—it was likely a good representation of the fighting force of the clan.
He stopped to wonder at his assessment of Orc life. He did have knowledge of what Orcs were like from literature, movies, and games, but those descriptions varied widely depending upon the author of the work or the creators of the game. He didn’t know if his thoughts were from a specific source or an amalgam of the various sources, but he suspected that he had some intimate knowledge of the Orcs in this game. He hadn’t known the clan names, but he did know some of their inner workings. It might be because he was himself an Orc, even though the Dire Orcs might not have the same social structure as Orcs. It could also be some skill or ability at work. He quickly scanned the skills and abilities that were listed on his character sheet, but none of them could account for the knowledge. He thought that he might have an ability that was not specifically listed.
They arrived at a group of tents and weapons racks placed in a mostly square formation. There was a large area between the tents where the Orcs were sparring with wooden weapons. Who knew that they would be so civilized? Another area was dedicated to the scouts, where several practice dummies were arrayed for them to throw their darts at. Harb wondered whether the practice darts were poisoned, too.
One of the Orcs was observing the practice, and given that his armor was nicer than any of the others Harb had seen, he had to be in charge. The soldier leading the way walked straight up to him, hit his own chest in a salute, and exclaimed, “Captain Vultag, sir!”
The captain looked at his subordinate and then over at Harb. Returning his gaze to the soldier, he asked, “What rock did you find this creature under?” His voice was gravely and full of contempt.
This was all a bunch of boot camp bullshit to Harb, but he decided to play along. He brought his own fist to his chest in a fair imitation of the soldier’s salute. “My name is Harbinger, sir. I come from clan Dire Bear and wish to see how the other clans operate.”
The captain cocked his head. “They all as large as you up north?”
“No,” he said simply.
Vultag walked over to stand directly in front of him. His face was hard, sharp, and emotionless. The Orc looked him up and down and then settled on his eyes. “What are you here for?”
Harb had seen a few war movies, and the scenes in training camp had shown the recruits staring forward and not looking directly into the eyes of the drill sergeant. For some reason, he felt inclined to not follow the lessons of the movies, instead opting to look down at the captain. “I want to see how you boys down south do it.”
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After a moment, the captain nodded and pointed to a weapons rack. “Grab a weapon. We will see how they do it up north.”
A small red dot began flashing in front of his eyes. It took a moment for him to realize that this was a prompt the game interface was using to let him know that he had a notification for something. He moved his eyes to the upper right corner of his vision twice, and his HUD display became fully activated. He then made it mostly transparent, which let him view his surroundings as he walked to a rack with several axes leaning against it. He mentally opened and then read the notification. Congratulations! You have gained a level in the skill intimidation. You are now level 2 in the skill. He closed the message. Wow, getting the captain to back off got me a level in the intimidation skill—that’s pretty cool.
Harb assumed that Orcs believed in the philosophy that you need to show strength, so he intended to make himself look strong as often as possible. He picked up a wooden replica of a greataxe and gave it a few practice chops. He didn’t like the feel of it, so he tried another. He tested all five on the rack before making his choice. None of them were to his satisfaction, but he settled on the heaviest one, as it would do the most damage. He was certainly strong enough to use it effectively. His own axe was extremely heavy, so he took it off and set it against the rack. The wooden version would be usable one-handed, but he took swings while wielding it in both hands. He somehow knew that he could get more force into his attacks if he used it that way. He held it up to let the captain know he had finally chosen a weapon.
“Slog,” the captain said, addressing the soldier who had found him. “I grant you the right to duel the newcomer.”
“Thank you, sir!” Slog replied, again saluting his captain. The Orc turned smartly and walked towards a different weapons rack. He selected a shield and a curved wooden sword that resembled his own weapon, then walked to the center of the practice yard and turned to face Harb.
Well, they are wooden weapons, so there should be no fatalities. Harb wondered what the test rules were but didn’t ask. He was unsure if the duel was something that was known to all Orcs, and he wanted to avoid making any of them suspicious. He strode towards Slog and stopped when he was a few feet away from the smaller man. He held his greataxe at the ready, waiting for instructions or a signal to start. The other Orcs stopped their own practice activities and took up positions outside the practice area to better view the impending fight. The two combatants stood there for a minute with no start command, and Harb could hear several Orcs placing bets on the match. Suddenly, the captain yelled, “Fight!”
Slog was the first to react, and he made a quick slashing attack with his scimitar-shaped practice sword. He struck Harb on the side before darting back to avoid any counterattack. Even though it was a wooden weapon that held no edge, the hit was painful. Harb wondered at the technology that allowed pain to occur in a VR setting, which was the style that he presumed that the game was utilizing. While he had not heard of anything close to this being available, it was far more believable to him than ‘he was on another planet and had been transformed into an actual Dire Orc.’
He took some probing chops, but Slog was able to back away and avoid the strikes. Harb extended and swung in an overhand attack meant to bisect his opponent from left shoulder to right hip. Slog was not able to dodge quickly enough to avoid the attack, but he was able to block the axe with his shield. The force of the blow staggered him, but he was able to stay on his feet. Cheering erupted after the blow, which Harb found to be odd as he was the outsider. They might just want to see some hits and didn’t actually care who won the fight, or maybe the cheering came from those who had bet on him.
The two combatants slowly circled each other. Slog was now far more wary, not wanting to have to block another big strike. The crowd had quieted as the action had slowed, but they remained enthralled by the combat. Harb felt exhilarated by the feel of the axe in his hands and the ease with which he was able to wield it. He had not only been equipped with the knowledge of how to handle the weapon; he seemed to have the muscle memory as well. He had a special attack called cleave, so he planned on attempting a feint and then trying the cleave attack if Slog fell for his feint. They circled once more before he made his attempt. Harb slashed from left to right, giving the impression that he would attack on that side, but he pulled his weapon back as Slog extended his own weapon to block. Harb saw his wooden axe glow slightly as he whipped it back and spun it around in a circular arc that culminated in an overhead strike. Slog was too slow in bringing his shield up to intercept the attack, and he suffered the full force of the weapon as it crashed down on his shoulder.
Slog staggered from the attack. It had been mitigated somewhat by his armor, but there was a severe dent in the epaulette, and his shield arm hung limply. Harb took the opportunity to press his attack. Slog was only able to retreat and slap at the unrelenting attacks, and he grudgingly yielded before he was forced out of the practice area entirely. Many of the spectators cheered, and coins exchanged hands.