It had been an hour after the battle, dozens of goblins lay dead, most of them being burnt to pieces by the fires we set. The entire town was set ablaze and the loot was ours. In the middle of the night the fires kept burning, but it was time to gather the loot. We took as much loot as we could, trying to stuff as much as we could on the hyenas.
We gathered additional hyenas that the goblins had who were quickly subjugated by the goblin chieftains “Alpha” hyena, using them as pack mules. The jewelry and such aren't nearly as important as steel, so I had them under strict orders to bring as much metal as they could carry instead of going after jewelry.
A few precious stones could be stored on one’s person after all. Secondly, I made sure that I took as many of the bows and arrows I could salvage. I needed to find someone who could help me replicate bows and the arrows required for my clan. This was the first instance I had ever seen bows being used on these plains so I needed to seize the tactical advantage while I could.
Archery is paramount to a functioning force, plus, Orcs are much stronger than humans. The massive war bows that we could create would easily decimate most foes. Tactical value was much more important than material value. Regarding the two of my squad that perished, Ok’Rik and Mal’Sh, I just had their bodies cremated and their ashes brought back. Personally, I would have liked to leave them to die but their family would bitch and moan at me.
They were quite useless, but however, destruction of the old leads to the opportunity of the new. Perhaps I would get two actually competent people who could join my war squad. But first and foremost, I needed to deal with my immediate problem. The goblin chieftain who was known as “P’avev”
Under torch light, he looked uglier and more cowardly than usual, his disgusting form writhed slightly in his bonds uncomfortably. Of course, I had him gagged and didn’t feel like ungagging him. His voice irritated me and bored me to death. He had outlived his purpose, I gave a nod to Chaganath. As P’avev realised what was going on, he started struggling harder and screamed into his gag. Probably about the promise or something along those lines.
As a little courtesy, I glanced towards him before speaking in a bored tone, “Yeah, I promised that I wouldn’t kill you. I’m not, Chaganath is. I haven’t broken my promise, so goodbye. Say hello to Pandar for me.”
I yawned loudly, gesturing for As’Kal to help ready the hyenas to move out as Chaganath slashed open P’avev’s throat with his bronze blade, draining the blood from the wound in an instant. I didn’t bother retrieving the body, just deciding to leave it to rot. It’s value was miniscule anyway.
I adjusted my lion hood as we made the slow trek back to Camp, it would take maybe 2-3 days to make it back but such is life. As we walked through the tall grass under the starlight skies, I sat atop one of the hyenas, thankfully, I was still small and young enough to ride on them. Though Orcish bones were thicker and heavier than goblin ones, the hyena under me struggled a little to move with my additional weight on her back. But no matter, we had plenty of other ones anyway.
Chaganath and As’Kal didn’t have the luxury of riding, but were forced to march beside me, keeping a watch out. I kept a watch out from the centre, Chaganath the rear and As’Kal the front. The place in an ambush, I reasoned most likely to get hit is the front, so if As’Kal dies, no real loss. Sure, he isn’t useless, but he isn’t competent either. Chaganath’s strategic value is much higher than his anyway.
I yawned, leaning onto the hyena as the days passed by, boredom aching into my very being.
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Chaganath’s perspective
Finally, after three long days of travel, we have made it back to the Camp. And as expected, we were met with a large crowd. Partially because it was the “Chosen One”’s first raid and it was because we came back with a large pack of hyenas. But the crowd quickly turned into a mob when they realised what was on the hyenas backs.
Sacks and large bags of something, the something being large amounts of steel and bronze tools. For a lack of a better word, everyone went fucking insane. Even the guards and high caste elites who were supposed to set an example for the masses lost their normal calm and were whipped up by the crowd's energy.
Cries of joy, shock and praise filled the air. All singing the praise of Pandar and the Chosen One. At the front of the mob jockeying around us (thankfully not too close since the Hyenas would occasionally snap at those who got too close), were the youngbloods. They saw that of the 5 who left, only 3 returned.
They surrounded us like how vultures surrounded carrions, the largest and strongest pushing first and being the loudest. They all cried out for us to accept them into their war squad, their voices overlapping and forming into one.
“Please Lord, let me serve you!”
“Lord, I am the strongest here, let me!”
“Lord, I am experienced, let me join!”“No Lord, pick me!”
My Lord Simba seemed quite amused, deciding not to say anything as he sat atop the hyena, not saying a word. It seemed he was content to remain, sitting back and watching the crowd. However, after what was about a minute or two, he seemed to gesture the hyenas forward, pushing ahead slowly but surely. Of course, the crowd parted, none of them were stupid enough to stop the son of the Chieftan, let alone the “Chosen of Pandar”
We managed to slowly push our way towards the Chieftains hut. To the credit of the elites, the moment they realised we were nearing the Chieftains home, they managed to snap back into action and order the other Orcs back, pushing them away and sending them packing.
No Orc was stupid enough to fight back against the elites, so after a few minutes of herding and the occasional threat of violence, the crowd disperesed. But the whispers of the excited masses filled the air, enveloping us all in their words of joy and praise.
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In all honesty? I was glad for it, I was glad people were recognizing my strength and my ability. Hopefully this would help me secure a good woman in the future. My relationship with my lord will be most beneficial after all. All of a sudden, Simba dismounted from his Hyena before glancing over at me and issuing me an order,
“Take your 20% of the cut, make sure As’Kal gets the same. The other 20% can go to the families of the two who have died or something. Now, get to work. I need to see my father.”
Without another word, he quickly ducked under the flap of the Hut and stepped inside away from view. Of course, I complied immediately but I couldn’t help but wonder, what were the conversations that were going on inside that hut between Father and Son.
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Gortholax’s perspective
As My son entered the flap, he chucked down a large bag in front of me. A mass of steel and bronze weaponry spilled out onto the floor, closely followed by precious gems such as small emeralds. He sat down in front of me with the pile in between us, leaning back with a smug look on his face as he grinned at me.
“Well father? What do you think?”I paused for a good second, pondering my answer. I then opened my mouth giving my response, “Honestly, you have exceeded my expectations. I have only one question, how?”
What came out next was a roughly 10 minute long story on how he bravely faced the enemies one by one, defeating them all in glorious combat. About how he and his men faced 100 goblins all by themselves in honorable combat. I sighed loudly, extending my hand towards him to indicate to him to stop, which he did.
I stared into his eyes with a piercing gaze, one I used on criminals or people I was torturing. I exhaled and inhaled loudly before speaking, “Don’t lie to me, boy. Tell me the truth, and I mean, the whole truth.”
I put strong emphasis on the phrase, the whole truth. I did not believe for a second that my son and 4 other people, 3 of which were not nearly as skilled as the rest, could hold off a goblin horde of 100 men or more. Sure, he might’ve had his lightning ability that could destroy swathes of people at once, but, definitely not strong enough to wipe out more than 20, 30, if I was being generous.
Plus, considering the fact he used ambush tactics in the fight against the Goblin chieftain, I wasn’t surprised if he did it again. Normally I’d punish him strictly for it, but since Pandar’s Chosen was not struck down by lightning or seemed to be punished. I decided to let sleeping hyenas lie, plus, he also challenged the goblin leader to a hand to hand duel, defeating him in combat.
I glare into his eyes, gesturing for him to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. As I relaxed onto the antelope hide carpet, listening to him retell the story. His regalements had a hint of fear and anxiousness in his voice, he had obviously known what I was catching him out on. I examined the steel and bronze weaponry that he had chucked down in front of me, as well as a few of the precious gems.
For the precious gems, they were cut in such a manner and quality that it could not be of the people of the plains. They had to be of a foreign group somewhere, none of the races across the wide open plains could achieve such level of gem cutting to create master pieces such as these.
For the steel weapons? None of them seemed to be in the style that we do. Double edged straight blades were used with a distinct triangular tip. They seemed to be one handed, at least for an Orc. But considering Orcs did not make it, I couldn’t be certain if it was to be held one handed or two handed.
Various steel daggers and swords, all in the same simplistic design, a few spears. There was no curved or wave-like edge on the weapons, all of them straight and triangular. With the only variance being in length. They also had a curious rectangular metal or wooden ending jutting out the side of the grips directly underneath the blade.
Upon further inspection, it became obvious that it was to protect the users hand from incoming blade strikes and potentially could be sharpened to use to stab at someone in close quarter combat. The edges of the blade were relatively sharp and the quality of metal was definitely high. The race of people that created these tools definitely had advanced metallurgy, mining and gem cutting techniques. They were probably leagues ahead of us in developing armour and various weaponry.
Regarding the bronze weapons? The bronze seemed to be of goblin make and origin, though the quality of bronze was far higher. Most likely bronze gained from the Race of people that the goblins stole. No goblin smith, let alone smith of these plains, was skilled enough to produce bronze weapons such as these.
As my son finished his story, having told the truth from top to bottom. It was as I expected, he had obviously ambushed them, before challenging one of the chieftains to battle. As he had succeeded and yet again, Pandar did not strike him down, there wasn’t really much I could do. I would have to consult my Shaman in the future regarding what to do.
I scratched the base of my chin before picking up a steel sword and gesturing the grip towards him and pointing at the blade as I spoke, “Do you know what kind of race made this blade? It is obviously not goblin in design and origin.”
“I interrogated one of the goblin chieftains father, it apparently belongs to a race known as ‘humans’ beyond the Afwan river to the West.”
“Anything specific about them?”
“Not much, that they are taller than goblins but shorter than orcs. Faster than orcs but stronger than goblins. Their skin tone seems to be varying shades from pale pinkish, to bronze. Their hair color varies as well, from yellow to black to brown.”
I nod, scratching my chin as I begin to ponder on what to do regarding this revelation, “Alright. You can take the war spoils you desire. Keep in mind, the festival will be coming soon. Having some steel weapons to trade would reap large amounts of value, we’ll be the talk of the festival.”
Simba nods as he gets up to exit the tent, no doubt to find the goblin slave Kiv’lar, who he shares an odd kinship with. I exhale loudly as I lean back, deciding to organize and sort out the weapons and jewelry.
“I’ll probably never understand that boy…”
______
Simba’s perspective
I quickly left to get some fresh air, deciding to sit behind the hut away from everybody. No other orcs came to bother me and such. Of course, behind the hut was Kiv’Lar working away at menial tasks. Washing clothing, washing armour and various tasks that weren’t “fit for an orc to do”. I merely nodded at him as I approached, he recognized me and gave a humble bow but spoke no further.
Having known me for 2 years or so now, he had known that at some times, I didn’t want to be disturbed. Wanting to just sit alone in silence. Sure, even in my past life I would rage down the road with the boys, screaming and shouting. Attacking people and reveling in the ecstasy of life and combat, thriving off of the adrenaline high that it gave me. But, that being said. One must take some time to relax and move away from the screaming high that one could be sent into.
The festival would be in a month. Every 4 years the orc tribes all gather in one large festival for a week or two. Celebrating Pandar, trading, intermingling. Peace was the official motto with no real wars or skirmishes being started. It was there where the future of Orcs as a race is discussed, but those are empty words anyway. Orcs will never truly unify, not without me that is, or so Pandar thinks.
Regardless, many brawls and fights happen anyway. Some drunken, some duels, some both. In all honesty, I would be looking forward to the festival. Perhaps it would be good to get some allies in the other clans to make my take over of the enemy clans far smoother. One must plan for the future after all, and to move a mountain, one must begin by picking up the first stone.
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