Grim V

    "Today was a good day." Grim rubbed his aching shoulders, sitting around a fire.

    "When will you start teaching me to fight with a sword?" Kruzz raised his tusks. "I can't use a staff with two hands, so I thought a sword would be more natural.
    "Yes and no." Dax threw another log into the crackling fire, sparks flying past the trees of the near forest into the night air,. "A sword would be more natural for your one hand, but you would get too accustomed to a certain style of fighting. You would get set in your ways and wouldn't evolve if it felt too comfortable. It is my intention to prepare you for any situation and make you work for it. I believe challenging you is the right path for you to grow into your potential."
    "What our wordsmith is saying is that you never know when you have to fight and what weapon will be at hand. I've been in battles where I stormed into the fight with an axe and ended up with two swords. It's good to know how to fight with different weapons and especially how to fight against them as well."
    Grim emptied his waterskin, wishing it were ale instead of water. A memory of pain tingled along a scar on his shoulder. Most things could be used as a weapon if the situation called for it. A piece of a shattered clay pot had given him that scar right before he killed the mother wielding it. Right before he turned to her broodlings. He could still smell the smoke in the air, feel the sting of it in his eyes.
    "Grim?" Kruzz tilted his head and looked at him as if he were drunk. "You alright?"
    "Fine. I'm fine. Was just thinking about stuff better forgotten." Grim shook himself, scratching the still tingling scar.
    "You looked like you were far far away. Wait! What was that?" Dax turned and peered into the darkness.
    "I don't hear..."
    "Shh!" Grim quieted Kruzz to listen.
    He did not make a grab for his weapon yet. He only tried to hear what Dax had heard. It was possible that the know-it-all had better instincts when it came to this. He had spent years with the Elves after all.
    The fire crackled as all else was silent. Grim remained as still as Dax, a sharp glance at Kruzz told him to do the same. Another crack shot through the night, but it didn't come from their fire. It must have been a branch off in the woods.
    The three of them had set up their fire a bit further away form the rest of the settlement. Grim and Dax had taken charge of Kruzz's training and they liked to keep to themselves. Now they were on their own and didn't know what was coming their way.
    It could just be an animal or it could be a band of humans. Silently, Grim removed a short blade form his boot, the leather grip was smooth and comfortable in his hand, better than the rough grain of the wooden sword they had been practicing with, which he placed his other hand on. Dax already had his fingers curled around his staff and Kruzz was following suit.
    A rustling of leaves made Grim tense. There could be no mistake. Something was out there. Dax didn't hesitate and slid from the light of  their circle into the dark woods without a sound.
    More snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves meant whoever or whatever it was, was coming closer. Grim turned to have the fire behind him, to not be blinded. There was a shape coming into the gloomy light. It was huge, too big to be a human and definitely not an animal.
    It was an Orc. Grim's muscles relaxed a bit, but he held on to his dagger, just to be safe. It was a really big Orc.
    "Ho!" The Orc said and raised his giant hands. "By my mother's teats! You're Orcs."
    "So we are." Grim grunted. "Who are you? Where are you from?"
    "Name's Brock! Brogdah Clan! This the Turak settlement?"
    "Yes, it is." Dax appeared behind Brock, leaning against a tree.
    "Whoa. Where'd you come from?"
    "Just being cautious. There is a conflagration in the making."
    "Cautious? Conflagration?" Brock seemed to be tasting the words as he made the sounds for them nice and slow.
    "He means he was being safe. There's war afoot." Grim had been spending too much time with Dax. Not too long ago he would have looked just as dumbstruck as Brock.
    "Ah, okay. That's why I'm here actually, my Elder sent me. Gwarr is done with raiding. He wants to gather a horde and show the humans what we Orcs are made of."
    Kruzz leaned forward, brow furrowed. "What happened? Why would he stop raiding?"
    "Humans lead a cavalry charge against us and trampled many grunts to the ground. He's no longer out for revenge on behalf of the Griklog Clan and what happened in the mountains. Now it's more personal."
    "The Brogdah Clan was defeated?"
    "We had to retreat. Gwarr did't like it, but he said it was the best tactical decision. I would have kept on fighting, but Gwarr ordered us back, leaving some of the wounded behind." Brock balled his fists. "Now, I want revenge for my brothers more than ever."
    "But what does it mean for us?" Kruzz asked looking from Grim to Dax. "How will gathering a horde effect us?"
    Dax scratched the back of his head. "Gwarr will send messengers to all the clans and every Elder will have to decide if they will send their grunts to his aid or not. It will be like in the Great War against the Elves. There will no longer be a question of what this conflict with the humans will bring. If our Elder says we must aid him then that's what we'll have to do. Every one of us."
    Grim scowled and put his blade back into his boot. War. He knew it had been coming, but now it was closer than ever. He did not envy Worg's position as Elder, but was glad that it was not his own choice to make.
    He still remembered the screaming and the fear from so long ago. If it were up to him, he would not return to that life, but if he was ordered to go to war. Then so be it.
    At least, that's what he was telling himself.

   

Kruzz VI

It no longer hurt as much to walk around. The first couple of days his legs had screamed at him for every step he made. Kruzz cursed them for their weakness and then himself for having let himself slip down the path of defeat. But most of all he cursed the loss of his arm.
    He sometimes woke in the middle of the night and felt it tingle from his fingertips all the way up to his elbow, but when he tried to massage some life into his limb with his right hand he grasped at nothing but air. He cursed his mind for not understanding that his arm was gone.
    As he neared the fighting pit in the early dawn, he saw grunts of the Griklog Clan, his clan, get ready for war. Traglok was taking all the grunts of their clan that would follow him to go kill humans. Maybe they would be able to take back the mines and their camp, maybe not. Either way, Kruzz yearned to go with them, but as he had been before, not as he was now. He cursed them all for leaving him behind.
    "Morning, Kruzz. How's the cursing going?" Grim stood in the middle of the pit, wooden sword in hand and a shield on the ground next to him. Dax sat next to him cross-legged with two staves resting on his knees, scowling.
    "It's going well enough." A slight tug at the side of his mouth almost turned into a smile. A reflex of old that he did try to suppress, but the bitterness came rushing up inside him, drawing his lips back into a grim line.
    "I still don't think it's the proper thing to do. Sure, anger can have its uses, that's how I got him up on his feet again, but now I think it would be better for him to be more focused on better things. Let him get back to full strength with positivity and serenity." Dax raised his eyebrows and tusks in unison, looking at Kruzz hopefully.
    Kruzz knew he meant well, but Grim's suggestion helped more than he would let on. Grim had told him to curse everything that annoyed him, deny none of his emotions, just let them reign free. It was the Orc way and anger would fuel his determination. Grim was sure that it was what he needed most and Kruzz couldn't deny the strength he took from it.
    "I think you're just moping around, because I suggested something and it's working." Grim flipped the shield up from the ground and caught it in his free hand, laughing out loud. "Your not always the smartest, you know."
    Dax stood up and tossed Kruzz a staff, "I'm quite capable of conceding my own short comings, Grim. I'm just inclined to believe otherwise and think a different tack would be the wiser course."
    Kruzz wanted to curse Dax for his weird way of saying things and for always thinking that he knew everything better, but he didn't. Dax had helped him when he needed it most and he wouldn't be standing here, once again with staff in hand if it weren't for him.
    Keeping silent, Kruzz began to go through the motions with the staff. Dax had shown him a routine of movement that helped you focus and strengthen your body and sense for balance. Balance was something he needed most. When fighting, actually when moving in general - Dax had explained - the body had to move in certain patterns to stay balanced. Two feet standing apart, knees bent and arms spread brought you into a simple balanced position, but if you were missing an arm, you ended up with too much weight on one side. Shifting your stance and bring more weight on the opposite leg could bring you back into a balanced state.
    Kruzz cursed inwardly every time he felt himself wobble, struggling to stay on his mark, but he was getting better at it. His body was learning what to do and began to compensate for the weight differential on its own. The more he moved, the more he learned.
    "You warmed up and ready?" Dax tapped his staff on the ground three times.
    Kruzz twisted out of the routine movements he had been taught and spun his staff at Dax in response. The older grunt parried and tried to knock Kruzz off balance by pushing harder and harder. Kruzz stopped putting pressure on his staff and let himself get pushed back, spinning his body to the side to let Dax pass him.
    "Good!" Grim shouted as Kruzz jumped aside from one of Dax's blows. "Your opponents will always think you are weaker, because you're missing an arm, but strength isn't everything."
    Dax caught a swing of Kruzz's staff right before it touched his temple. Kruzz leveraged his weight to pressed against Dax's staff to no avail.
    Dax grabbed his staff with two hands and held against the pressure. "Trying to match your opponents strength when they have two arms against your one is futile. Unless you are significantly stronger you will lose balance and..."
    With little effort he shoved Kruzz aside, but Kruzz used Dax's shove to spin around and whack his staff against Dax's shin.
    "And will have to use the fact that your opponent underestimates you to your advantage." Grim finished for him, tusks spread wide."
    Kruzz felt his lips twitch and settle back into a line. It wasn't every day Grim could beat Dax with words, but it wasn't enough to fully break through Kruzz's shell. Not even the added bonus of Dax jumping up and down from the blow to his shin helped.
    The first bout in a best of five against Dax went to him. So far he had always lost three to one or less. He was starting off on a good foot today and he had made sure that Dax only had one good foot left.
    Kruzz lost two in a row, won the fourth and again lost the last match. Although he didn't beat Dax, he felt as if he had improved and that was all that mattered. He knew that Dax was still holding back, giving him time to adapt to his deficiencies, as he called it. Kruzz cursed himself for letting Dax take it easy on him, but he could accept it, for he knew that Grim would not.
    So far he had never scored a hit on Grim. Kruzz did not curse himself for that. It was his challenge. At the moment, everything he had to do and learn was a challenge, but beating Grim was the challenge above all others. It was only made harder by having to wield a staff against sword and shield, but he would learn to wield others weapons with one hand too when the time was ripe.
    Grim was as tough as ever, blocking every swipe of Kruzz's staff with shield or sword. He mostly stayed on the defensive to let Kruzz try to get in some strikes at first, but at some point he would switch into an aggressive stance and Kruzz would find himself hard-pressed trying to back away or block incoming attacks.
    It was their third bout, Kruzz having lost two. He spun with his staff, Grim parrying the strike to his right side with his sword. Kruzz used the pressure of the parry to pivot the staff and strike left, which Grim caught on his shield. Kruzz backed away a step and turned as if to try another spin attack. It was a feint. Instead of following through he sprung forward with the staff slicing through the air, going for Grim's left side again.
    Kruzz's own left side was wide open with no arm to protect himself. Grim's sword lashed out to thump against Kruzz's ribs with it's dull edge. Kruzz felt the pain and gasped, but also felt his staff slide along the rim of Grim's shield and thump against something hard.
    "Ouch!" Grim shook his head, a red spot at his temple marked where the staff had hit him. "You got me."
    "You got me first." Kruzz had dropped his staff to rub at his side. "But I did get you right after. It doesn't count, but it's improvement." And then he smiled.

   

Dax III

'The early riser chooses his path!'
    That was a saying Dax had learned from the Elves. One of many wisdoms he remembered from his time with those so different from his own kind. Their philosophies on life were often focused on patience and understanding.
    Unlike elves, Dax did not have more than a century of living and thus patience wasn't always easy, but he had been patient. It was what Kruzz had needed, for his path would not be easy. But now, patience had run its course.
    The sun was rising on the horizon, giving the sky an orange glow, but all Dax could see was the flap to the shaman's hut, where Kruzz still lay. Today, he told himself, would be different. He had been patient as long as he could be. Now, he had to get the brood back on his feet or it would be too late.
    Dax took a deep breath to find his center, then shoved the flap aside and entered the hut. Kruzz was still lying on the slab of rock, asleep. The shaman, Vorg, lay a few feet away on the ground under some furs. Dax would not be needing his help today.
    He went to stand over the brood and watched. Kruzz's brow was furrowed, tusks bared as he tossed his head from left to right. It was a fitful and restless sleep. Dax's gaze slid over the young orc's body and stopped at the sight of the stump where his left arm ended. It was well bandaged and probably healing at a good rate. The rest of his body was covered by a fur.
    Dax lifted the cover from Kruzz's legs. As he had feared, their light green color was turning pale. Their strength was ebbing away and the longer it took for the brood to get back on his feet the harder it would be to get them back to their former strength.
    Dax sighed, but he knew what he had to do. It was not the Elvish way that he had been taught, but the Orcish way that was in his blood. He tossed the fur from Kruzz's body and pulled on his good arm, bringing the brood upright with a jolt.
    "Ahhh! What are you doing?" Kruzz jerked to wakefulness.
    Vorg stirred in the corner, but when his eyes were no longer clouded from sleep and he saw what was happening, he only nodded and lay back down.
    "I'm doing what needs to be done to get you on your path." Dax heaved the young orc onto his shoulder.
    "What path? There's no path for me. Let me down!" Kruzz struggled feebly. He didn't have the strength to stop Dax.
    Dax stepped out of the hut with Kruzz pummeling his back with his good arm. He ignored it. Kruzz showing some spirit, displaying a will to fight was the whole point of this endeavor. Without saying another word Dax strode forward through the settlement to the fighting pit where he had recently fought Ragnur.
    Kruzz's wailing continued, but Dax shut the brood's cries from his mind. He crossed to the middle of the arena and set Kruzz onto his feet. Either his legs or his will could not hold him and he fell on his backside. It didn't matter. He would be getting up soon enough or never again.
    "What are we doing here? Take me back to the shaman!" Kruzz's whining was turning into outrage. That was good.
    Dax remained silent and walked to the edge of the arena where he retrieved two staves. He tossed one to the broken orc sitting on the ground. It bounced once and rolled the rest of the way to Kruzz's feet.
    "What am I supposed to do with that? I can't fight." He kicked the staff away.
    The rage of a moment before gave way to despair. Dax saw the shift of emotions clearly. Where once the brood had been confident in his abilities, knowing he would conquer the world, now he lacked all self-esteem. It was time to force some of it back.
    Dax began to circle the youth, twirling his staff in his hands all the while. Every three seconds he'd tap the end of the staff on the ground with a thud. Kruzz remained impassive as Dax set the beat. Now he would have to make the brood listen.
    "You are an orc." Thud. "Orcs are warriors." Thud. "They fight no matter what!" Thud. "But you have given up." Thud. "So what does that make you?"
    Instead of thudding the staff on the ground he jabbed Kruzz in the chest. Not hard, rather in a goading manner to make his anger flare up. The brood only gasped in surprise.
    "I'm nothing!" Kruzz shoved the staff from his chest, but Dax brought it back with force.
    The staff took the brood under his chin, knocking his upright torso toward the ground. Kruzz cried out, catching himself with his right arm. Blood dripped from his mouth to the dirt and as he returned to his sitting position his eyes darted at Dax filled with rage.
    "Another insolent remark and you will regret it even more." Dax bared his tusks in a snarl.
    He had to be tough now. Had to be strong and superior, ignore his friend's trembling and his hate. Dax could think of no other way to draw the youth from the edge of desolation. He resumed his circling and carelessly twirled the staff once more.
    "A grunt has proven his strength." Thud. "He has fought and prevailed." Thud. "He will fight again to protect his tribe." Thud. "You have proven yourself, have fought and prevailed." Thud. "But you would not protect your tribe." Thud. "You say you cannot fight."
    Another jab to the chest. A fire burned in Kruzz's eyes, tusks raised in defiance. Dax knew and feared the brood's thoughts, "I can't fight!" But they remained unspoken, maybe out of fear or respect of being beaten again. When no further response came, Dax continued walking around him.
    "A brood is as reckless as a berserker." Thud. "As thickheaded as a rock." Thud. "And when he's hurt he cries and gives up, running to a mother." Thud. "That's what you are to me, Kruzz. A brood!"
    A final jab that would break or make him. Dax shut his eyes, not knowing what the next step would be. If Kruzz gave up, there was no more he could do. The staff shot toward his chest and stopped.
    Dax opened his eyes, he felt resistance where there had been none before. Over the tip of the staff he saw Kruzz holding its end with his right hand. It hadn't touched his chest. Now Dax saw his eyes and knew he had succeeded. The rage and fire was there and sullen defiance had turned into action. All of this, Dax realized in a second, but it still didn't give him enough time to react.
    Kruzz shoved the staff back into Dax's face with such force it snapped his head back. Blood dripped from his nose as he grinned.
    "I went on the Hunt! I fought and I proved my strength! I am not a broodling anymore!" Kruzz bent his knees and got onto his feet with some effort. He was still shorter than Dax, but he swore the young grunt had grown since last he stood.
    "Good!" Dax wiped the blood from his face and went to pick up the other staff. "Then show me what you can do and I'll teach you whatever you think you can't do."
    Dax tossed the staff and Kruzz caught it in his right hand, ready to start anew.

   

Zir III

Zir lay in the high grass on a small hill. He had a clear view of what had been the battlefield. The many dead humans were being carried off and buried. The dead Orcs of which there were too many were left lying in the mud.
    He had warned Gwarr and things had turned out badly, but there was more to come. The damp earth in his hands pulsed as he thought about the war. The Earth agreed. Its warning still stood. This war needed to be stopped.
    Zir slowly scooted backwards so as not to be seen by any human scouts. Out of sight, he scrambled down the hill. He would be going west where Gwarr and his survivors had gone, back to the Brogdah Clan's encampment, but he'd move on.
    Zir knew he would not be welcomed by Gwarr the way he was before the battle. His presence would only remind him of his losses and if Zir knew Gwarr, he'd also be planning his revenge. Gwarr would start seeking allies throughout the clans to gather a mighty Orc horde. He'd be doing the exact opposite of what Zir was trying to do.
    As he walked through the fields, Zir pondered his next destination. Orcs were a tough breed. As Gwarr had said, they were made for war, but Zir knew that they could do more than just fight. There were ways of living peacefully, they had had a relative peace for over a century. Sure there had been the occasional confrontation with humans and Elves, not to forgot the constant struggles between clans, but for Orc standards it had been a relative peace.
    The sun began its descent, leaving the sky a dark red, mirroring the blood that had been spilled in the day's battle, before turning purple. As the sun sunk behind the horizon the stars began to sparkle in the sky. Zir looked up in wonder at Nature's beauty as he continued on his way. Where he was going, he still did not know.
    His feet began to tire and his wandering mind was going in circles. He still did not know which clan to go to, who would be willing to help in his endeavors to end this war before it truly began. The darkness was bringing a chill with it, convincing Zir of finding a place to put his head down for the night.
    He would have preferred a cave and maybe a fire to keep him warm, but he was seeking guidance. Where better to ask for a sign than under the night sky. Zir searched for higher ground so that he might be closer to the stars, but the only hill he could find was dominated by a dead tree, seemingly struck by lightning not too long ago.
    Zir sought to be surrounded by life wherever he went, sleeping under a dead tree was not something he relished, but who was he to ignore nature's whims. He wanted a hill, nature delivered. Maybe the tree itself was already a sign of this war and how it will scar the earth.
    He could be wrong though. Maybe he was just searching for signs so vigorously that he saw them where there were none. It could just be a hill with a dead tree. It did not matter. He was weary and needed to rest. So, even though it was not the kind of surrounding he preferred this would be the place where he would lay down his head.
    A cool breeze blew over the hill. Zir had a cloak of woven long grass, but it was not quite enough to stave off the chill. His thoughts wandered some more, before he came to a fitful sleep.

Lightning struck from above, the earth under his feet torn asunder. A deep chasm split the world in two, its long tendril snaking always forward through the land all the way to the Blacktop Mountains. a terrible roar came from the giant slab of rock as it trembled and cracked. It did not split, but from its summit a clear blue spring blossomed. The water cascaded down the mountainside with beautiful serenity, until halfway down it transformed into a thick black mass.
    The black goo slid down the mountain much slower, but seemed to be getting more at an alarming rate. When it reached the grass below the mountain it spread like a flood covering all life beneath a blanket of black sludge.
     Zir watched on as the settlement that had belonged to the Griklog Clan swarmed with humans. They were oblivious to the blackness oozing towards them, going about their daily business. Zir wanted to shut his eyes, but he couldn't, was forced to watch.
    Through the blackness a stream of the crystalline water from the spring above burst forth and flooded the settlement. The humans grew in size and vigor, only to be consumed by the black sludge as everything else.
    This disease grew over the land, its tendrils reaching so far as the human capital. Zir panicked, realizing the dire situation Zirayus and its people were in, but he could do nothing. In desperation he searched the land until he discovered a flicker of light. It came from the Turak Clan settlement. He didn't know what or who shone in the distance, but it was a wisp of hope to grab onto.

Zir awoke with the rising sun. A new day, a new path to follow. He did not know what expected him at the Turak Clan, but he had asked for a sign and nature had sent him one. It was a long way to the settlement, but Zir had plenty to ponder on after that most unsettling dream.
    After carving some bark from the tree and planting an acorn a few feet away, Zir went on his way to grasp that flicker of hope that was on the horizon.

   

Skard II

Skard let fly another arrow, one of two dozen raining down on the humans. He had watched with mixed feelings as the first wave rained down around the Giant. Skard still held a grudge against him for winning their fight, but he also respected him after returning his axe. Death by a hail of arrows was not what he deserved.
    The last he had seen of the Giant was him on his knees before the oncoming human army swarmed over him. A third volley of arrows fell upon them, picking off a couple with screams of pain being swallowed by the din of the charge. Most of the arrows were blocked by their shields. The Brogdah Clan didn't have too many archers and there were a lot more humans coming at them than they could shoot.
    It was too late now anyway. Dropping the bow where he stood, Skard kneeled down to pick up his axe. The leather grip felt good in his hands. It felt right. He added his voice to the guttural chanting of the front line.
    The humans were close now, they'd crash into their line in less than thirty seconds, but that was not the Orc way. The Brogdah Clan would not sit and cower behind a wall of their comrades. The Brogdah Clan would do what they did best.
    Skard tightened his grip on his axe and yelled, rushing toward the oncoming humans. What had once been more than one hundred shouting, raging, charging humans, prepared to kill a clan half their size, suddenly turned into a chaotic rabble of those with the passion for war, who fought, and those useless sacks of flesh who fell to the axes and swords of the Orcs.
    Skard reveled in the action of it. He swung his axe with both hands, removing limbs and lives. He had already killed at least three before he found himself facing an actual warrior. The human was well armored with a long blade covered in scarlet Orc blood.
    Who had he killed? How many had he wounded? Did it matter?
    No!
    Skard would show him what Orcs were made of. He would show everyone how to deal with that kind of human. Letting out a deep growl he leaped at his foe.
    Skard's axe lashed out in an arc, barely passing over the human's head as he ducked. The human swiped his blade over the back of Skard's leg. The metal biting through leather and flesh. Skard stumbled, crying out in pain, but did not dare fall to the ground.
    Though it hurt like hell, he kicked out with his wounded leg, knocking the human into the dirt. The axe came down with a spray of blood as it sunk into the human's chest. Not even his armor protected him from the force of that blow.
    Skard raised his tusks triumphantly and roared. All around him lay the human wounded, the dying and their dead. His brothers and sisters were victorious, their calls echoing his own success. The surviving humans fled toward the other half of their army, all the way across the field. The reinforcements should have joined the fight sooner if they hoped to win against the Orcs. It was too late now. Now they cowered behind their shields waiting for their defeated comrades to return.
    Sweat and blood dripped from Skard's chin, he hadn't noticed until now that the cut over his ear had reopened during the fight. He struggled through the mass of bodies underfoot, pain searing through his leg with every step. He saw more Orcs scattered among the dead than he had expected. His friend, Borkin, who he had known since they were little broods, lay among them. Jaw clenched shut, Skard moved on.
    Gwarr was a bloody sight to behold, but there were no wounds that Skard could see. Their elder was a rallying point and everyone was slowly making their way, looting the dead while they passed. Mexta stood next to him, a nasty cut spilling blood over half her face. Other than that and the evil eye she was giving Gwarr, she looked unharmed.
    The blaring of a war horn made Skard turn. He was surprised that the humans would want to resume the battle after having lost so many, but then realized that the noise didn't come from across the field to the east. It came from the north, still quite a bit away, but dust could be seen rising from trampled ground. The cavalry was coming and the humans who were defeated a moment ago shouted with renewed vigor.
    Without hesitation, Gwarr's roar signaled the attack. Their elder charged forward, the clan at his heels. Skard stumbled over the fallen, his wounded leg troubling him until the battle rage took hold of him, taking his pain, storing it for after the battle when it would return tenfold. The charging Orcs left the dead behind them, reaching the clear field, where only a few dead humans lay, having been killed by arrows. The Giant was surely face down in the grass here somewhere.
    The Brogdah Clan neared the human front line. Skard could see their faces. They were scared at the sight of the battle enraged Orcs, looking north toward their saviors. The cavalry wasn't there yet though, this was their chance to tear apart the demoralized troops before they arrived.
    Orcs screamed in pain and anger as they slammed into the human's shield wall. Spears jabbed at them, but the wooden and metal shields were not enough to stop the oncoming behemoths that were the Orcs. Skard's axe tore through a shield - breaking it into two halves - and cleaving into its owner.
    Again the humans outnumbered the Orcs, but they were terrified by their brute strength. Skard saw it in their eyes as he swung his axe with glee. Though the humans had more than twice their number they began to fall back. He respected the fact that they did not outright flee and was glad, for it meant that more remained to be slaughtered.
    Another human blocked his path, better than the others. He parried Skard's blows or dodged when he could. The young grunt wearied at being thwarted. He even tried to bait the human giving him an opening, but the coward would not take a risk. Fighting continued all around them, humans and Orcs shouting their pain and rage.
    As Skard took a breath before starting a new assault on his opponent, the blowing of the horn resounded, but much closer than before. Too close. To the north the cavalry crashed into the battle. Orcs had positioned themselves to stop the onslaught, but there were too many riders, breaking through their ranks and tearing them to pieces.
    A sudden motion drew him back to his foe, the human finally going on the offensive. Skard growled, knocking the sword aside, taking the shield to his face. Slightly dazed, his instincts took over, slipping his axe behind the human's legs, pulling them out from under him.
    Skard lifted his battleaxe to give the finishing blow to the human cowering under his shield, the gallop of a horse barely audible in his triumphant state. A sword slashed across his back, followed by the horse's shoulder and rider's knee.
    Skard stumbled, dropping his axe. Pain from his earlier leg wound shot upward, bringing him to his knees. The human he had been about to kill now stood over him, sword arm raised. Riders galloped past them, swarming over the battlefield. A riderless horse was the last thing Skard saw before it crashed into him.

   

Mexta IV

Her battle axe gleamed along its edge. Mexta spent the morning sharpening it and preparing. The battle was nearing and she planned to trim lots of human heads off their shoulders. The human army was gathering on the far side of the field. They must have been marching over a week to have made it here at this time. They would be exhausted and easy to kill.
    On the other hand, the humans outnumbered the Brogdah Clan five to one. Not great odds, but their kind was weak compared to the broad-chested, hulking berserkers that were the Orcs. Mexta saw this battle going only one way. The humans would regret having started this war, cursing the day their king commanded them to attack the Orcs.
    Mexta stepped through the gathering crowd of Orcs, tusks held high, a twitch of a smile at the corners of her mouth. The battle would be the entire clan's victory, but her fight would be her own. She had waited for this day ever since the raid on that first human village. When she saw the Giant in battle she knew she had found a worthy foe. Someone it would be an honor to die against.
    Of course, she had no such thing in mind.
    Each of her steps radiated confidence and inspired awe among her fellow Orcs. They made way for her as she neared the fighting circle, closing the gap behind her. She was there and ready to face the man she had kept alive for the last couple of weeks. Today, the Giant would die by her hand.
    He stood in the circle armed with the longsword he had taken in his first fight. His armor was now a complete set of plate with a chainmail vest, having traded Skard's axe for the protection. Skard was pretty beat up about his loss, but glad to have his weapon back.
    The Giant was looking over the gathered group, not even the least disturbed by their yelling and growling. He was watching the gathered troops of his king. For the first time there was more than just defiance in his eyes. There was hope.
    He slowly turned to regard his challenger of the day, eyes widening as he understood. The shock was all she had hoped it would be. She had decided not to tell him that he wouldn't be facing one of the young grunts.
    "You knew I've wanted to fight you since the day we raided your village. Well, now the day has come. It's now or never."
    The Giant glared at her. He took a deep breath, lifted his sword in front of him and let it drop to the ground. "Then never. I will not fight you and you will not kill me as long as I don't fight."
    She had worried that he might respond that way. Grinding her teeth, she nodded her head to the circle's side at Gwarr. He stood tall, surrounded by his clan, wearing his scarred armor, a great two-handed sword strapped to his back. "I wouldn't kill you, but he would. He's wanted you dead since I brought you to our clan. If you don't fight me, he'll kill you before the battle for the entire human army to see."
    Gwarr grinned. He would finally get what he wanted. Mexta would hate not having had the chance to fight the Giant, but in the end Gwarr was still her Elder. It was his decision.
    She watched the Giant carefully as he processed the information and thought about his options. Not that he had many to choose from. His eyes darted across her fellow Orcs toward the human army and then back to Mexta and down at his sword. He sighed and picked it up.
    "I'll fight you." His voice was void of emotion, the strength and vigor that had built up over the last days was drained in an instant. "But if I win, I want to be let free."
    Mexta smirked at that. "If you win you'll have to kill me. This fight is to the death. Either you die or I die, there can be no other ending."
    The fire in his eyes that she had grown to relish faded. His hope of survival dwindling away. "If I kill you, your clan will kill me."
    Mexta shrugged, hefting her axe into both hands. The Giant's shoulders slumped and she realized this was not the Giant she wanted to fight against. It would not be the challenge she had hoped for.
    The defeated Giant slowly turned his body into a defensive stance. He was waiting for Mexta to attack. As she stepped forward she saw that he may have lost the fire in his eyes, but the fire in his heart still smoldered. He would fight to live, even if only for a bit longer, all she had to do was show him how serious his situation was.
    She took one slow step at a time, closing the gap between them. The Giant waited for her to strike, unmoving. Mexta lunged forward, swinging her axe over her head and bringing it down in a diagonal slash. The gathered Orcs shouted for blood.
    The Giant's eyes darted between the edge of her weapon and the movements of her body, anticipating the arc of her blow. He dodged aside, a renewed spark lighting up in his eyes, just as she had hoped.
    His sword darted out at her, thinking she had given him an opening, but she spun around with her axe and parried with a clang. Her tusks spread in a grin.
    "This is the Giant I wanted to slay." Her words were swallowed by the howls and growls of the onlookers.
    Recovering from the clash of there weapons, the Giant gritted his teeth.
    "I will not die!"
    Mexta didn't know if he was telling her, the Orcs around them or was trying to give himself strength by saying the words aloud. She didn't care. The Giant had risen and the battle blood was surging through his veins as it pulsed through her own.
    A growl built up in the Giant's throat that could be heard over the clamor of her clan. He sprung into action with speed and fury. His sword was long and nimble compared with her axe. All she could do was block the incoming blows and turn them aside with the metal haft of her weapon.
    Although Mexta was being driven back, her brethren cheered. They reveled in the action, the impending danger, the imminence of blood being spilled. Their own urge to kill would be rising and when the battle started their strength would prevail against the humans.
    The Giant repeated "I will not die!" with his onslaught. Every strike caused sparks to spring from the clashing metals. He had driven her from one side of the makeshift arena to the other, but with his next strike Mexta finally countered. She let his sword glance off the haft and drew it toward the hooked edge of the axe's blade. With a sharp twist the weapon was jerked from the Giant's hand.
    The maneuver weakened her own grip on the axe and before she could ward him off the Giant swung a mailed fist at her face. The blow knocked Mexta to her knees, but she held on to her weapon.
    A high pitched ringing sounded in her right ear. She tasted metal, seeing red as she looked up at the Giant towering over her. Deep bursts of sound pounded through the ringing. The constant roar of her clan could not be heard.
    Mexta spat blood from her mouth. Biting down on her lip, she forced herself to stand, her grip on her axe tight. It wasn't until the ringing started to ebb away that she recognized the deep sound as that of the blowing of a horn.

   

Grim IV

"He needs to get up and move around, dammit!" Grim shoved the flap to Dax's hut aside and entered.
    "Hello Grim. What can I do for you? Dax sat on an old tree stump, reading a piece of parchment he had unfurled in his hand.
    "Kruzz is as stubborn as a rock. Hell, he's a mountain. How am I supposed to get him back on his feet if he ignores me, sits there, does nothing and ends up yelling at me, telling me to leave." Grim paced back and forth in the small hut, gesturing wildly with his hands.
    Dax sighed and rolled up the parchment. "You must understand that the brood is still going through a period of shock. I agree, he should be moving around. It's not good for his muscles to be still all the time, making it harder for him to move once he does, but that's his choice. For now we must give him time."
    "Brood. You always call him that. He killed that huge beast, he's a grunt now and he should act like one." Grim's fist slammed down on a wooden chest. The pine split from the impact. He barely felt it.
    Dax stared at his broken chest with surprise. "I understand that you're upset and want to help him. You're letting your anger out to compensate the frustration of not getting through to him. Let's go outside and talk where you can't break anymore of my things."
    "I don't want to talk to you anymore. All you do is talk. Talk, talk, talk. You never get anything done." Grim turned and stormed out of the hut. He needed to cool off. He was seething with anger the way when battle rage was upon him.
    He didn't realize it immediately, but he was on his way to Worg's hut, his elder. Some deep anchored feeling of trustworthy guidance must have led him there. Every Orc grew up knowing that the elder was the wisest grunt in the settlement. If you had something troubling you, you could always turn to him.
    Yargol was guarding the hut and stood menacingly in front of the flap. He held out his hand for Grim to stop and usually he would have. Any other day he would have respected the elder's privacy and the guards task to protect the elder, but not today.
    Grim slapped Yargol's hand aside and backhandedly knocked his fist in his face. Yargol stumbled out of the way not knowing what hit him. Stepping through the flap, Grim found himself standing behind Traglok who was having an audience with Elder Worg.
    Both turned around as Yargol dashed through the flap shouting, spear poised at Grim's throat. Yargol's eyes darted from Grim to Worg. Worg's surprised look turned sour, tusks raised. He shook his head and pointed for Yargol to leave. He did so grudgingly, fire burning in his eyes as he watched Grim before leaving the hut.
    "Grim. What do we owe this surprise visit to?" Worg sounded tired. The disappointing look he had given Grim at his interruption had faded to drooping tusks and heavy jowls. He was old and he looked it.
    Grim wondered if he had been right to come here. From the look of him Worg didn't have it in him to give advice. The attack on his settlement had rattled the old grunt and Kruzz's injury had given him the rest. He was broken.
    "I came..." Grim didn't know what he had come for. Advice? For what? Worg wasn't handling Kruzz's situation any better than he was.
    "It doesn't matter what you came for. It matters that you're here." Traglok interrupted. "Grim, you and I have had our differences, but at heart we're both warriors."
    Grim wasn't too sure about Traglok being much of a warrior, but he was glad that he had spoken, giving him more time to think.
    "Worg, when we left our settlement at the Blacktop Mountains you pronounced me as our leader in battle. So far we've only run. I can't take it any longer. We need to fight back. Those bloody humans killed our mothers and our broods. I say it's time that we get our revenge."
    Worg shook his head back and forth gently. If it was possible, he looked even older than before. "Go. Do what you must. Less than a week ago I would have stopped you. I would have told you what to do and you would have listened, but not anymore. I don't have the energy to stop you. Lead those that will follow you and get your revenge, Traglok. I will not stand in your way."
    Worg sat down on the ground, cross-legged, defeated.
    Traglok grinned and turned to Grim. "Are you with me? We could use a fighter like you." After the attack on their home Traglok had said pretty much the opposite. They had fought about who should lead the Clan in an attack. Grim had been enraged, full of fury and had wanted to avenge those he had seen slain, immediately.
    Now though, he was relieved that Traglok had been given command. He wouldn't want that burden on his shoulders. Telling others to do horrible things in war wasn't easy, but being told to do so by your commander didn't make doing them any easier. Grim's anger had almost put him in a position of command, something he had been running from over the last few years.
    His thoughts about Kruzz still had his blood boiling and the prospect of crushing some human skulls was tempting, but reason won out. Grim would not let his anger drag him back to a place where he didn't want to be? "I don't think so, Traglok."
    Traglok shrugged and exited the tent, leaving Grim and Worg alone. "So if you didn't come here to support him, then why did you come?" Worg patted the ground, beckoning Grim to take a seat.
    With reason came some sort of peace. He still felt the frustration, but the uncontrollable rage had dissolved. He still wasn't sure if the old grunt would be able to help him, but where was the harm in letting him try? Grim could think of none and sat down. "I'm troubled, Elder."
    "Aren't we all? Is it the young grunt that's gnawing on your conscience the way he is on mine?" Worg's lips twitched into a sad smile as Grim nodded. "Life throws many obstacles in our way and we must find the best solution to each problem. I've lived for a long time and I've overcome many rivers and boulders in my path, but how to deal with a grunt that does not want to get better. That's new for me too."
    Grim's tusks sank. As expected, he would find no answers here. He shifted and started to get up, but was stopped by Worg's hand on his knee.
    "It's new for the both of us and together we will find a way. It can take some time, but with dedication we will get Kruzz back on his feet. I don't know how, but by Nature's Will, I know that we'll succeed."

   

Skard

Skard twisted his hands around the hilt of his battle axe. Today was the day. His day to prove himself. He would succeed where the others had failed. Every day, since the Brogdah Clan went to march to war, one of the younger grunts had to challenge the Giant. And every day the human won.
    Not today though. Today Skard had challenged him and he was going to beat him. He was sure of it. He heaved the axe onto the plate mail on his shoulder. He was more used to wearing a leather jerkin, but a chain mail vest and plated shoulder pads and bracers were the safer choice, considering the longsword the Giant had taken from Borkin.
    After every fight the Giant claimed whatever he had managed to take from you. He now had a longsword, a leather cap, an iron gauntlet and a shield. With every day and every fight he became more daunting as an opponent, but Skard wouldn't let himself be intimidated. There was no way the Giant would be taking his beloved battle axe.
    "You ready, youngin'?" Mexta stood between him and the Giant. A crowd had gathered, building a circular fighting pit around them. Everyone was excited to watch the daily spectacle before they had to pack up and go back on the march. Even Elder Gwarr was among the viewers, although he didn't look pleased.
    The rising sun glinted off the sharpened edge of Skard's axe. He scrunched up his face and snarled at the Giant. The human didn't react. He had a solemn look, but there was a glint in his eye that spoke of wildness. He would do whatever he had to to survive.
    Skard didn't have to worry about his own survival. Mexta's deal with the Giant was that each fight could be his last. Every grunt had the right to kill him. He on the other hand had to beat his opponent and leave him alive. If he killed anyone it would be his own death sentence.
    Skard stuck out his tusks in a wide grin. He had studied the Giant in each fight and knew his strategy. He was always defensive and careful. He waited for the grunts to strike first and then when they gave him an opening he would defeat them. Skard wouldn't let it get that far.
    Mexta roared for attention and signaled for the fight to begin. Skard was overcome with yearning for glory and charged with determination. He'd attack the Giant so fast he wouldn't have time to look for an opening.
    His feet stomped the ground, his muscles burned and his eyes widened as he saw the Giant do the same. Too many thoughts raced through Skard's mind to follow. The Giant never charged, why was he doing it now? The whole clan is watching. Should he stop or try to evade the human? He had to win.
    His thoughts didn't matter. There was no more time to react and the two heavy combatants screamed for blood as they clashed together. Skard swung his axe, wedging it into the Giant's shield, his feet carrying him onward. The Giant delivered a painful blow to Skard's head with the flat side of his sword as his own strides brought him crashing into the grunt.
    Both were knocked to the ground in a tangled heap. Skard had lost hold of his axe and a long gash over his left ear was gushing blood. The Giant struggled with the straps of the now broken shield. The crowd erupted in a bloodthirsty uproar.
    Skard was half blinded by the blood covering his eye. This was not going as he had planned. He wanted to think about what to do next, but his body was forced to react on instinct as the Giant once again lashed out with his sword. The thick metal of his bracer blocked the flat side of the blade just in time to stop the blade from knocking him senseless.
    His legs were still tangled with those of the Giant and he kicked him where it hurt. The human howled with pain and swung his sword anew. This time with the sharp edge coming dangerously close to cutting off Skard's hand below the bracer.
    Luckily, he rolled to his right and the blade only scraped across one of his shoulder pads. The onlookers howled in outrage while others grunted in excitement. They were enjoying the show while dread started to sink into Skard's stomach.
    He scrabbled away from the Giant on all fours and managed to get his hand on his axe once again. He turned just in time to see the human get up and swing his blade downward. It caught on the haft of the axe as Skard lay on his back and held the weapon above him with both hands.
    With a twist he made the Giant's sword slide off to the side and the human went off balance. Quickly Skard got up onto his feet. Breath rushed in and out of his lungs. This was his moment. This was his chance. He heaved the axe up over his head and brought it down with a crushing blow.
    The Giant dashed forward, under the falling axe. With all his weight he rammed into Skard and lifted him off the ground. Together they came crashing down, the axe falling from Skard's hands and his breath bursting out of him.
    When he came to, he was on the hard packed earth. The crowd was a loud incoherent jumble all around him. He could only see through his right eye. The Giant stood over him, a smile on his bloody lips. Skard's beloved axe in the human's hands, the sharp edge hovering over his neck. The fight was over. Skard had lost.

   

Kruzz V

Kruzz opened his eyes. He was in a shaman's hut. Herbs were burning next to him. His vision blurred as he moved his head. He wanted to get up, but he didn't know how to tell his body to do so. Someone sat next to him on his right.    "Hey there little grunt." Dax's voice was strong and reassuring, but also worried.
    "What happened? Why am I here?" Kruzz tried to lift this head and focus on Dax, but he didn't have the strength for it. His right hand pressed against the slab of rock he was lying on. He didn't even feel his left hand and thus couldn't manage to push himself up into a sitting position..
    "Calm down, Kruzz. You need to rest. Just lay still. Try to sleep some more."
    He gave up and lay down. He didn't have the strength he needed. "I feel like I've been sleeping for too long. What happened?" Kruzz slowly lifted his right hand to rub at his eyes. He still couldn't move his left.
    "You killed a big creature on your Hunt." Dax smiled.
    Memories slowly started to resurface. He remembered the fight. He could feel the pain in his left arm, where the creature had cut a deep gash... Kruzz turned his head to look down at where his left arm should be. All he could see was the shoulder and a bit of his arm ending in a stump.
    Now he remembered the screaming as they cut into him. He wanted to shout out in horror as the realization set in. Dax put a hand on Kruzz's right shoulder and squeezed.
    "I know, my friend. I know it is hard to take."
    Kruzz shifted to get the older Orc's hand off of him. "How could you know? Did you lose a limb?" Tears came to his eyes unbidden. He wanted to get up and scream, throw a tantrum, but he didn't have the energy for it.
    Dax lowered his gaze and let his hand drop away. "No. I haven't experienced what you are going through, but I hoped I could help you gather strength in this hard time."
    Kruzz turned his head to his left, away from Dax. His lips pressed together in an act of silence. He didn't want to see anyone at the moment, but now all he saw was his stump, so he shut his eyes.
    A rustling came from behind him as someone entered the hut.
    "Hey there, Kruzz. You're awake!" Grim's rumbling voice awoke something within him. Lately, Kruzz had been telling himself how he wanted to be just as good a fighter as Grim. As strong and as fearless. That could never be now.
    Why did this happen? What would they be able to do about it? Nothing!
    Kruzz opened his eyes and turned to the two of them. "Go away! I want to be alone." Tears leaked down his cheeks as he snarled at his friends. They couldn't help him. No one could.
    "Now look here, Kruzz." Grim grabbed a hold of his shoulder. The one that still had an arm attached to it. "Things may look bad now, but as soon as you've recovered and the shaman says you can get up. You and me, we can spar and work on fighting with one arm. I'll teach you all I know. You're a grunt now and you should learn to fight like one." His tusks rose up hopefully.
    Kruzz sniffed and turned his head away from his friends, looking straight at the ceiling. Under his breath he said, "what's the point."
    "Maybe we should let him rest some more. Give him some time." Dax sighed and got up from his seat.
    "You said that he needs to know that..." Grim turned on Dax.
    "Yes, but he needs some time to digest this first. Let him rest and we'll come back soon." Dax started to move toward the hut's flap.
    Grim smiled down at him. "You'll see. Once you have your strength back we'll still make a warrior out of you. It'll just take some more training."
    "What's the point!" Kruzz yelled. "Stop wasting your time with me and leave."
    "But..." Grim's tusks sank and his shoulders fell.
    "Get out!" Kruzz's throat burned and all the energy he had was drained out of him. He just wanted to be alone. Be alone and sleep. Forever.
    "We better go." He could see Dax out of the corner of his eye, coming back to lead Grim out of the hut.
    "I tried. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I thought I could make him look forward to training. You know? Now though, I don't know if I'll be able to get through to him. What if he never lets us help him?" Grim's voice trailed off as they walked further away, leaving Kruzz alone.
    Broken and alone.

   

Zir II

Zir sighed as he looked up the rocky hill. The trek to the Brogdah Clan was always a tiresome one. He could of course take a detour around the hill, but it would take a lot more time. He did not want to shy away from the obstacles nature put before him.
    He took his firsts steps up the hill. Small rocks dug into the callouses on his feet. Uncomfortable, but no more than a slight nuisance. The wound on his foot was already healing well. The hillside gradually sloped upward, making it more difficult to walk and more necessary to climb.
    Zir's hand took hold of a bad stone and it slipped from his grasp. A shower of some small and a few bigger rocks followed. They clonked off the bark on his arms and shins. A few bits landed on his head, but his thick hair cushioned the impact.
    Slowly, he made progress and finally managed to reach the top of the hill. The descent wouldn't be much easier, but he would make it. Nearby, he could make out the smoke of the Brogdah settlement. It wouldn't take much longer to get there.
    Zir didn't much relish the thought of talking to Gwarr. He was young and hungered for battle. It would diminish his honor to even consider peaceful actions. So why was Zir even wasting his time to go there? The same reason as always. To do nature's bidding.
    As he reached the clan's boundaries he was surprised to not be overrun by the little broods. Instead, he noticed a big commotion in the center of the settlement. A big circle was made by onlookers, shouting and screaming in delight.
    Zir squeezed through to watch what was happening. There was a human in the circle with a knife in hand, a giant of a man. Across from him a young grunt stood with a blade that shone brightly in the sunlight. The human was large, but he did not stand much of a chance. His small knife was nothing compared to the grunts sword.
    Zir tried to shout into the masses. This wasn't a fair fight. Where was the honor in this? It was the slaughtering of a human for entertainment. He could not let this happen. He shouted and tried to squeeze through the masses, but he wasn't heard and no one would let him pass to the coveted front where it was easiest to see.
    As Zir tried to get some attention, there was a loud gasp from the crowd. Zir looked up with dreaded anticipation. The grunt had charged and even though Zir had been sure that the human would be slashed down, he was wrong. The human wasn't only tall, he was strong too. He caught the grunt's sword arm in one hand and slashed across the grunt's leg with his knife.
    The Orc cried out in pain and punched the human with his free hand. Zir winced as the rest of the crowd whooped in excitement. The human still stood and began to twist the grunt's sword arm. He let his knife drop and used his free hand to punch the Orc in the face. Over and over again.
    The grunt swayed and dropped to the ground. The human had somehow taken his sword and was now holding it over the Orc. The sharp edge glinted in the sun as the tip came to rest on the grunt's throat. A hushed silence spread over the gathered crowd.
    The human had a bloody nose from being punched, but he smiled and removed the sword from the Orc's neck. He swung the blade back and forth, testing it's balance. "I think, I'll keep this." He said in the human tongue. Then he went to the stake in the middle of the circle, rammed the sword into the ground and sat down next to it, resting his back against the pole.
    Zir didn't realize how he had been holding his breath and slowly let it all out. The crowd started mumbling excitedly. Some went to help the grunt up from the ground while others just talked. No one went near the human, except for one.
    Zir recognized Mexta and decided to join her. Maybe he would be able to find out what that was all about. She was kneeling next to the human, grinning. As Zir approached she looked up.
    "Zir!" The smile on her face faded. "Does Gwarr know you're here?"
    "Not yet." He nodded toward the human. "What was all that about, just now? I was worried the clan had become prone to public slaughtering."
    The human dabbed at his bloody nose and looked up curiously. "What's he saying?"
    "I wanted to know why you were fighting the grunt." Zir answered in the human tongue.
    Mexta's tusks rose in a grin once more. "He just won his first fight. If he fights every day and wins then he stays alive. It's a deal I've made with Gwarr. Otherwise the Giant was going to be killed before the big battle. Human troops are already headed our way."
    Zir scowled. "Sounds like there isn't much time. I better talk to Gwarr." He started walking to the elder's hut, but turned around once more. "I also don't like this whole idea of the human fighting for his life. I'll have a word with you about that later."
    Mexta waved him off and he continued on his way to Gwarr's hut. He was pretty sure his talk wouldn't get him far, but he had to try. Gwarr was hungry for war and wasn't going to let an insult to the clans go by.
    A big grunt stood before the elder's hut. He smiled, recognizing Zir, but for the life of him he couldn't recall the grunt's name. He stuck his head into the hut and came back out.
    "Gwarr will see you." He stepped aside and held the flap open for Zir.
    "Thank you." Zir entered and wasn't surprised to see Gwarr polishing his sword. He always liked to present an intimidating picture.
    "Zir! You want to stop me from going to war?" He growled.
    "It's not what I want. The Earth wants that. I'm only speaking on its behalf." Zir straightened his back and prepared for his speech.
    "Tell me. What will happen if I don't do as you ask? If I go to battle the humans and kill them? What will nature do?" Gwarr put his sword aside and picked up an axe to clean next. His tusks widened into a grin.
    The air went out of Zir. "I don't know. I just know it won't be good. Not for us and the humans as well. Not for anybody." How could he make anyone see reason if he couldn't explain the consequences. "War just isn't the answer. Do you see no other way?"
    Gwarr's smile wilted. He put his axe down and got up, placed his hand on Zir's shoulder. "You are wise, brother. You know many things that I do not, but you have also forgotten things that I have not. We are Orcs and if there is one thing we are good at, one thing that we were meant to do. It is war."

   

Dax II

The shaman's hut was filled with herb smoke. Dax could tell that some of the herbs were being burned to dull the senses, but others just made the room smell better.
    Kruzz still lay on the slab of rock and Vorg was seated next to him. A frown was on his face as he studied the putrid flesh of the young Orc's arm. The brood was unconscious. Dax should be calling him a grunt, he had proved his strength after all, but seeing him in such a weak state reminded him of how young Kruzz still was.
    Vorg looked up at Dax, eyes red and brow furrowed. Even with the plugs in his nose he was bound to inhale some of the herbs. He should go out and get some fresh air, but he had been trying to help Kruzz any way that he could. To no avail.
    "I've dissected the creature he killed. It's poison glands were mostly full, but I couldn't make an antidote in such short time. It's spreading too fast."
    Dax clasped his hand on Vorg's shoulder. "You have done all that you could. Nobody expected more."
    Vorg shuddered. "I'm going to have to take his arm off. At least that way he'll have a chance at living. If I don't do that the venom is bound to spread all the way to his heart."
    Dax sighed. Poor Kruzz. It seemed like he was going to have a bright future ahead of him. This changed everything. Maybe he hadn't been ready for the Hunt. But who could have foreseen such a huge creature as his animal. What was the meaning of that beast coming to him for the Hunt?
    "I better get things ready. The sooner we do it the better. I had just hoped that my treatment would work, but it's too late now." Vorg got up with a grunt and headed towards the flap. "I'll need your help when it's time. You and that other big fellow. Grim was his name?"
    Dax nodded. "I'll go and get him."
    They both left the hut, leaving Kruzz behind.
    It was still early and the sun blinded him when he stepped outside. Dax went to look for Grim in his tent, but he wasn't there when he looked inside. He took a look around the fighting pit where some of the grunts were training and some of the broods were watching and imitating them. Grim wasn't there either.
    Nor was he bathing in the stream. That would surprised Dax anyway. Grim probably hadn't bathed even once in the last month. It was far more likely to find him where there was something to eat. But even the burning meat on the spit hadn't lured the big brute over.
    There wasn't much else he could do, but ask around. Someone must have seen him. Who better to start with than their elder. Elder Worg was in his hut, but he wasn't alone. Dax was asked to wait outside by his guard while he went in to ask permission for Dax to enter.
    The guard came back out and grunted with a nod towards the flap. Dax went inside and was surprised to have finally found Grim, who was standing next to where Worg sat. "There you are. I've been looking for you."
    "Then you've heard. Your shaman wants to take the little grunt's arm off." Grim scowled. "I guess it's better than letting him die, but what will his future hold now. You said the Hunt had meaning. What does this outcome say about Kruzz's fate?"
    Grim's eyes were ablaze. Not with hatred for Dax, he could see that. It was frustration and anger at the world. Maybe there was more to Grim than he would have thought. Not just a lazy, strong, brute who did whatever he wanted. He genuinely cared for Kruzz. That was clear.
    Worg's head sagged on his chest and he looked old and weak. Not like the strong leader that a clan should have. "It's my fault. I thought he was ready. I thought he had greatness within him. The Hunt was going to be his first triumph of many more to come. My plans for him have failed."
    Dax watched Grim grind his teeth. He probably wanted to yell at his elder, but he had too much respect to do so. Did he think it was Worg's fault? Worg was taking the blame, but that didn't make it true. What the two of them needed was something to keep them from despair. They needed hope.
    Dax took a deep breath and slapped his fist into the palm of his other hand. "Don't you two see what this is? This is a decisive moment not only for Kruzz, but for us. It will be hard for him to get used to only having one arm, but with our help he will be able to learn that not only strength matters. It will be our task to make him what he can become. Losing an arm does not make him less of an Orc. Losing hope will make him less than he can be."
    A slight grin spread over Grim's lips, his tusks thrust upward. "You always know what to say, don't you?"
    "I don't know if this will work." Worg still sat on the ground, his body slumped. "But we should at least try to help this young grunt. He will need us in the hard time to come."
    "Good!" Dax crossed over and gently laid his hand on Grim's shoulder. "Then there's only one more thing to do, before we can help Kruzz on this hard path. Vorg asked me to get you, so we could help him do what needs doing."
    All of the good vibes he had just spread were sucked away in an instant. Grim's smile turned into a frown and a deep rumbling growl came from his throat. "We'd better get it done then. The sooner the better."
    Together they stalked out of Worg's hut and walked silently through the settlement. Inside the shaman's hut, Vorg was waiting. He had his tools laid out before him and fresh herbs were burning.
    "Here, take these." He handed them plugs for their noses. "You'll need all the strength you have to hold him down. He'll struggle as soon as I start."
    Grim held on to Kruzz's legs and Dax held on to his arms. The brood winced when he grabbed the wrist of his left arm. It's light green coloring had become increasingly blue over the last few days. It was getting high time to remove it.
    "I'll make the cut up here." Vorg indicated a spot slightly below the shoulder, well above the infected flesh. "You two just keep him restrained."
    Vorg lifted the saw from his collection of tools and placed it where he was going to cut. "Hold on tight now."
    The brood looked peaceful as he lay there. His eyes were shut and his breathing was calm. Then Vorg began to saw. Kruzz's eyes burst open, his limbs struggled and he screamed. Oh, how he screamed.

   

Mexta III

"Why don't you finally just get up and fight?" Mexta held out a bowl of gruel to the Giant's face so that he could eat out of it. "I mean, why go on living for a few more days. Maybe a week. You know your fate. Why not just snap that rope and fight? Die with honor."
    The Giant ate greedily and swallowed the moist paste with difficulty. He licked some bits from his dry lips and looked up to her. "I'd rather not die at all. I still have something worth living for."
    Mexta let out a bark of laughter. "You still have hope in your survival? You think you can escape?"
    The Giant dropped his head. He knew that his chances were close to zero. She could tell. But he still didn't give up. He would still try if he got the chance. "Let's say you make it out of the settlement. I'll follow you and bring two grunts with me. We track you and catch up. What would you do then? Would you fight to get away or would you give up and let yourself be dragged back here?"
    He lifted his head, jaw clamped shut. His eyes were aflame with hatred. He still had some fight in him. She had hoped for that. It was just slumbering under a layer of doing what was necessary to survive. She would rattle him further until it was finally awakened.
    Mexta drew a knife from her belt and cut her thumb. Blood began to well up and she smeared it on the Giant's face. He tried to lean away and she slapped him for it. He hung limp, taking the beating and not the bait. He wouldn't fight her yet.
    The fire that burned within the Giant, the sheer force of brutality which he fought with was something she respected. She wanted the warrior inside of him to come back to the surface and she wanted to beat him. She would have to wait.
    She got up and went to Gwarr's hut. The sun was setting and he would be waiting for her. Brock was on guard duty in front of Gwarr's hut. It wasn't that they were afraid of someone coming to harm their elder, the guard was rather a protection from unwanted visitors. If Gwarr were in danger he would probably knock Brock aside to fight his foe himself.
    Brock wasn't the sharpest weapon in the armory, but he was tall and strong. Intimidating to most, but not to Mexta. He smiled with his big tusks thrusting out of his mouth and nodded that Gwarr was inside.
    She entered the hut and saw Gwarr studying a map he was holding in his hands. He looked up briefly with a scowl on his face. That's what it would look like to most, but she saw a slight spark in his eye. That was the only kind of smile you could expect to get from him.
    "You were with him again, weren't you?" Gwarr murmured as he resumed his work.
    "Yes." Mexta stepped up next to him, her shoulder touching his. "I think it won't be long before the Giant bites. He still has hope of living. That will make him desperate"
    "Well, he won't live long. Scouts have reported that the human army is already on its way. This," he jabbed a finger at a large field on the map. "is where I want to do battle. We'll be marching in two days. If that Giant of yours doesn't fight until then he will be executed before the battle."
    "And if he does fight he will die before then." Mexta grinned. "Is there anything else you wanted?" She turned to leave.
    Gwarr's hand flashed out to grab her wrist and he pulled her towards him. She could feel his hot breath on her cheeks. His face was only inches away. "How much longer do you want to keep this up? I want you!"
    She leaned in towards him. Lips about to touch. Her hand shot up to grab one of his tusks and pull him towards her, giving him a massive headbutt. It hurt, but the stunned look on his face was priceless. "I'm a fury through and through. Claim me and I'll gut you like a fish and I'll use your tusks as toothpicks."
    She turned and exited the hut, her cheeks flushed and a smile on her face. If she wasn't mistaken she had even seen a hint of a smile on Gwarr's lips before she left. That would have been a first. She strode past Brock too flustered to even say a plain goodnight.
    Gwarr was the greatest warrior she knew. The youngest elder of any of the surrounding clans. He would be an excellent mate indeed. One day she might consider becoming a mother, but not anytime soon. The excitement of battle was too precious to leave behind.
    In the mean time she would focus her energy on the Giant. At first, she didn't understand him and always expected him to fight at any moment. She would have torn the rope days ago and would have fought and killed until defeated. He didn't do that though and it looked like he wouldn't fight at all. Everyone from the Brogdah Clan thought so.
    Mexta had tested him often. Trying to find the right way to challenge him. He always surprised her by not taking the bait. Their talk earlier however, had led to a new discovery and a new challenge. After she hit him, even though he probably didn't notice right away, she had dropped her knife.
    To her dismay, when she neared the center of the settlement, the Giant was still there, tied to the stake. She was so sure that he would try to escape. Was he a coward to not take the chance or was he sensing a trap? She didn't know.
    The sun had set and the settlement was only lit by torches here and there. The stake where the Giant was bound was mostly dark. Mexta was only a few feet away and he wasn't moving. He was already asleep.
    Well, if he wasn't going to take his chance, she might as well get her knife back. She bent down to look for it in the semidarkness. It was hard to see with the flickering of torchlight so far away. She searched the ground where she knew the knife should be, but couldn't find it.
    Mexta lifted her head to look at the Giant and saw a smile on his cracked lips. His wrists were free from the rope, her knife was in his hand. "I thought about killing you just now." He flipped the knife and caught the blade, offering her the hilt. "But what good would it do me? You're the only one keeping me alive. If I were to escape your clan would follow and kill me. I want to live. So how do I do that?"
    Mexta snatched the blade from him, her mouth dry, but her heartbeat eerily calm. He could have killed her without a second thought, but he didn't. She gave him a toothy grin. "You have to make yourself invaluable." She offered him the knife back. "You'll need this and will have to do exactly as I say."

   

Grim III

Grim sat in his hut mulling over his thoughts. Was Dax right? Could he have done more? Could he have been more? He was in deep thought. Something he wasn't used to. Something he hadn't let himself do in a long time. He had tried to bury his past, but now memories long gone were coming back to the surface.
    He could still smell the smoke in the air. Orcs lay dead and dying everywhere. Only a few of their own clan were among them. He could still smell the blood and feel his heart pounding in his chest. The battle rage was upon him and he loved every second of it.
    Their elder had ordered them to kill every last mother and broodling. It was not a regular feud between the two clans. Not the kind of problems that could be dealt with through a show of strength, a few raids and a final finding of mutual respect. Their elder wanted to destroy the clan and wanted to make sure that none of them survived.
    Grim was young at the time and strong. He did not think about his orders, he just did as he was told and killed with ease. Now he would have questioned those orders. Especially, after what he saw that day.
    Grim rose up from the ground and grunted as he knocked a large jug aside. Why was he torturing himself with those memories. He was no longer there. He was here and everything was good.
    Except that a war was coming. Actually, it had already begun.
    Dax's head popped through the flap into his hut. "Grim! Kruzz is back from his Hunt. He's hurt!"
    Grim huffed and stomped outside. "Is it bad?"
    His tusks clamped over his upper lip. He liked the little brood. It would be a shame if he wouldn't make it.
    "I think his arm was severely injured. I saw a lot of blood. He's with Vorg, our shaman." Dax went ahead taking quick strides to the shaman's hut.
    A lot of blood. That didn't sound good. "Did he at least kill the beast?"
    "I don't know." Dax opened the flap and stepped inside. Grim followed.
    Smoke filled the room. Grim could smell the shaman's herbs. They would take away pain, making you numb and drowsy. Kruzz was lying on a large slab of rock. Burning bundles of herbs were placed next to his head, one on each side. Vorg was bent over him.
    Dax circled around the rock and hissed when he saw Kruzz's arm. Grim went to look as well and drew in his tusks. The left arm had a long deep cut that went from his wrist, past his elbow, halfway up to his shoulder. The blood was still running freely, rather than thickening and the edges of the wound had a bluish-purple color.
    "Poisoned?" Dax asked Vorg.
    "Looks like it." He pressed against the flesh. Kruzz winced, but his eyes were still closed. "The creature he killed was a big beast. I've never seen its like around here. Its venom is acting fast. You two help hold him down while I bind his arm and treat the wound."
    Grim obeyed and held the brood down by his shoulders. Vorg got a leather strap and pulled it across Kruzz's arm, above the wound. Dax leaned over his body and held on to his hand, pressing it against the stone. As the strap was tightened, Kruzz began to struggle and when Vorg got out some powder that he pressed into the wound he began to scream, but Grim didn't let him budge.
    Afterward Kruzz was breathing heavily. He twitched sometimes, but Grim thought he was going to be alright. He looked up at the shaman, but Vorg was shaking his head. "I've never seen this before. I don't know if my treatment will help. We have to wait and see."
    "He'll be alright. You'll see." Dax smiled weakly."Look, he's awake. He's a strong one, he is."
    Kruzz's eyelids fluttered open. "Grim? Dax?" He winced and drew in a sharp breath. "I killed the beast. I finished my Hunt."
    "Yes, you did." Grim grasped his right hand. "You're one of us now. A grunt! But now you need to rest."
    Kruzz smiled. "Okay." He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

   

Zir

Zir sighed in relief as his feet entered the cold river water. One would think that after years of travel the thick calluses on his feet would give him enough protection, but being barefoot and walking over a dozen miles a day was hazardous. Sticks and sharp rocks could sometimes break through the thick skin and then he'd have to deal with the consequences.
    Zir watched a small trail of blood vanish in the flowing stream. The water would clean his wound and afterwards he would walk through the soft grass and mud which would make a protective patch over his sole. He trusted in the land. Nature would take care of him.
    He would of course consider taking a break for a day, but it was only a few more miles to the Droklag Clan settlement. He might have to favor his left leg a bit while he marched on, but he would make it before midday.
    Zir thanked the water and asked the grass to be gentle. It tickled and stung when he pressed his foot into the dirt, but he gave a satisfied grunt. Life was nothing if not the acceptance of pain.
    It took him longer than it would have if not for nature's little jab, but he knew there was sure to be a reason and he did not complain to the wind or the sun or the earth as he wandered on. The top of the settlement's huts could be seen in the distance and he kept moving towards them at a leisurely pace.
    When he entered the settlement boundaries a horde of little broods came running his way. It had been months since he'd last been at the Droklag Clan, but the broods remembered him well. He was quite the attraction wherever he went.
    They all tugged on his knee-length hair to test if it was real and ask him why he was wearing tree bark on his arms and had vines wrapped around him. "Calm down, little ones. I'll come spend time with you later. First, I need to speak with your elder. The land needs to be listened to."
    The broods reluctantly let him go. Zir marched on towards the elder's hut. The grunt guarding it looked at him with irritation. He grumbled something as he went inside and came out again shortly afterwards.
    "Elder Ferkud will see you." The grunt's tusks were raised high in contempt.
    "Thank you, my brother."
    The grunt huffed in Zir's neck as he passed, but closed the flap to the hut without quarrel.
    "What do you want, Zir? Or should I say what does the land want?" Ferkud was an old grizzled Orc with gray hair on the sides of his head. The top was bald in a neat crescent.
    Zir knew that the elder didn't like it when his time was being wasted, which always put him in a lousy mood. But Ferkud was no fool and knew that Zir could bring useful information. If from other clans or from nature, it did not matter as long as it was useful.
    Zir leisurely stepped up to the fire pit in the middle of the hut and grabbed a fistful of the ashes of last nights fire. He wet one of his fingertips and dabbed it into the ash and licked it off. "Mmm. These are good ashes." He rubbed the rest into the wound on the sole of his foot.
    Ferkud was sitting cross-legged and had his hands propped on his knees, striking an impatient pose. A part of Zir enjoyed making him uncomfortable, but he was here on nature's behalf. Zir raised his hands up high for his proclamation.
    "Zirayus, the land, from the mountains to the plains, from the seas to the desert. " Ferkud sighed and his arms slumped. He hated it when Zir started his speeches like this. "The earth, dirt, rock and metal. The wind, from the slightest breeze to the howling gusts of a storm. The water from the salty sea to the fresh icy spring. Zirayus, our land has spoken to me."
    Zir's brow tightened and his tusks made his usual smile turn grim. "War is upon us!" Ferkud's back straightened and he was brought back to attention. "The land is unhappy with the bloodshed that this will bring. Something in the air has told me that no good can come of this and it must be stopped!"
    Ferkud's facial expression went from annoyed to outraged. "How dare you come to me and talk about stopping this war. Orcblood has been spilled. Unprovoked. The humans are to blame. It is our nature to fight back and show them what we are made of. No Orc will idly stand by and let those filthy beings do as they please. I don't care what the land tells you."
    Zir's tusks sank and he smiled sadly. "I thought you might react that way. I will have to find another clan elder that is willing to do something against this unnecessary evil. There is more to this war than just greed and honorless attacks. Someone needs to negotiate and find out what it is. Otherwise more will die."
    "Yes! More will die. More humans! Nobody hurts the clans and gets away with it. Nobody!" Ferkud snarled and got up to his feet, getting ready to through Zir out.
    "I see that I'm wasting my time and yours. Just know that the rivers do not want to flow red with blood. Neither Orc nor human blood. Death is always a waste."
    Zir turned and left the hut, leaving the elder behind. He sighed in sorrow for the land. He was doing what he could, but he could not make the clans change their ways if they did not want to listen.
    He went to play with the children until the sun began to set. The mothers gave him a meal as they often did. Afterwards he left the settlement and was back on his well trodden path. On to the next clan. To the next elder, who would reject him as well.