War Stories: The Braduks

[the 1 bow 1112]

((5 wars. 2 conflicts. 78 pages. 35,938 words. War of the black flag and The battle for the badlands are essientially the character development stages for the Village Wars, the Fall of Kenuk is an explanation, the War for Elysium, The Ugluk War/Braduk rebellion and War of the horn and claw were actual things that happened in game. Now, I'd like to stress with the in game wars that yes parts were embellished for entertainment, and would like to say that this is not a historical document. Not only is this Braduk perspective, but was written to entertain. If you happened to play an antagonist in those stories and felt like I undermined you, or went to astray with your character, I apologise in advance. Credit to Higgsy for writing to Village Wars like a year and a half ago because it is really the back bone for all Braduk lore. Credit to ilikefooddude for doing the recount that is the War of horn and claw.

 

If you have any criticisms, comments, issues or would like to offer tribute please don't hesitate to post.

Thankyou))

 

War of the black flag

 

 

A brutal war had been tearing the orcs apart. The Clash of the Clans. Orcs had their homes destroyed and were left with nothing, so many banded together. A tent village had risen, but would soon be threatened.

 

First encounters

 

“Pirates?”

 

“Yes, Pirates.” Braduk grunted, this news was not something he wanted to hear. He ran his fingers through his jet-black dread locks. The young orc who was barely in his twenties paced back and forth in his tent.

 

“How many?” Braduk asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

 

“I saw four ships. But there is bound to be more, they look well equipped.” It was Gorfjol, Braduks half brother. The two had a close relationship. Gorfjol was smaller than his brother, also younger, about eighteen. Braduk hooked his shorthammer to his belt.

 

“We need to tell father. These people look to him as a leader. The clans are still at war and we will receive no help. He can rally the people.” Gorfjol nodded in agreement and exited Braduks tent. Before them was a sprawling tent village, an unofficial settlement of hundreds, maybe thousands of orcs. With the clans at a vicious war, many orcs were left without a home. The biggest and strongest orcs took to being the leaders. The biggest and strongest of them all was Braduk and Gorfjols father, Urdnot. He stood a foot above the rest of the orcs with a hair braid as long as an arm. The leaders tent sat atop a small hill. Braduk and Gorfjol entered, and saw Urdnot hovering over a table with a crudely drawn map of the settlement, three other leaders were present. Urdnot looked up as the flaps of the tent flew open, seeing his sons before him. “Father, we have news.”

 

“Of what kind?” Urdnots voice was low and stern. Gorfjol spoke up next.

 

“We are now threatened, its pinkskins.” With a growl Urdnot motioned for the other leaders to exit.

 

“Leave us.” Urdnot moved over to a chair, sitting down gracefully. He leaned back, pulling out a pipe. “Speak, my sons.” The two orcs sat down, and Braduk nudged Gorfjol.

 

“Oh, yes. Me and some boys were scouting the badlands like you said. We went to the moved around to the cliff side where the sea is. Ships, four of them. Judging from the look of their ships they’re not military, but they are pinkskins. Pirates.” Urdnot took a moment to process the information, puffing out a smoke ring. Gorfjol quickly added “I have a feeling theres more than the four I saw though.” Urdnot leaned forward, nodding.

 

“This raises a bit of a problem. They have no purpose here, so its safe to assume they want to move inland. We could defeat them in open combat, but they wont dare try it. They will send out a scout soon no doubt, make sure you get your hands on him. Bring him directly to me, unspoiled.” Braduk and Gorfjol nodded their father, got up and left. Walking back to their tents they spoke as they walked.

 

“Whats your take on this Braduk?”

 

“I’m not sure. We cant be certain they are not just passing by, but if a scout is sent out we know they want this land.” There was an awkward silence between the two brothers.

 

“What?” Gorfjol finally asked, breaking the silence. Braduk looked dead ahead, his voice rough yet completely serious.

 

“War is coming.”

 

The Orc and the Buccaneer

 

The blistering desert sun beat down onto the sands. There was no such thing as a lazy day in the village, so all the orcs were at work. Braduk and Gorfjol lead training sessions with younger orcs. It was then an orc no older than fourteen came sprinting over to the klomping pit.

 

“Braduk! Gorfjol! W-we have secur…” The young orc was panting heavily. Braduk placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Take a moment, catch your breath boy.” Gorfjol walked over, still clutching his scimitar. The boy spoke.

 

“The groups Urdnot commanded to watch the Cliffside, they have taken a captive, a scout from the pirates.” Braduk and Gorfjol exchanged glances. The boy looked at the two orcs with a slight sense of intimidation.

 

“Thankyou, return to your works.” Braduk patted the young orc on the arm and he ran off. Braduk looked to Gorfjol, folding his arms. “I need to get these grunts finished up. Go get the pirate scout.” Gorfjol laughed.

 

“Have I always been your errand boy?” The two brothers laughed and exchanged punches to the arm.

 

“No, you had a few years in your mothers wo-…” Silence. Gorfjol looked to the ground and quickly left. Braduk realized what he was saying all too late. Braduks mother was alive, she was crippled, but alive. Gorfjols mother died in child birth.

 

Gorfjol arrived at the Cliffside at the edge of the badlands at noon. The orcs there had the pirate hogtied. Gorfjol approached, sighing.

 

“You are smaller than I expected.” Gorfjol mocked. The pirate was an average sized human, wearing black pants and boots with a red shirt half buttoned up. He looked terrified. Gorfjol crouched down next to him. “You have no real position with your people, do you, human?” The pirate squirmed, trying to break free. Gorfjol stood up and kicked him in the ribs. “When I ask you a question you answer, maggot.” He turned to the orcs. “Where’d you find this one?”

 

“He was wandering into the valley. Heh, lucky we found him, he wouldn’t have lasted a day in the badlands.” The orcs all laughed, Gorfjol however did not. He spoke in a serious tone.

 

“This poor excuse for a creature may not last a day here period. Come on, lets take him home.”

 

“Gorfjol, wait.” Gorfjol cocked an eyebrow. “Look…” The orc motioned towards the sea. Off in the distance, a fleet. Ten ships, armed, large, and armoured. The pirate began to laugh as he layed on the sand.

 

“Oh you think its funny do you, you grotty SCUM!” The pirates head whipped back as Gorfjols foot collided with it, knocking him out. “Hoist him up, we need to return to the village. Now.”

 

Returning to the camp Gorfjol nodded to the orcs who had been at the Cliffside and slung the pirate over his shoulder. He began to make the long trek through the maze of tents to get to the hill where his father would be. Cubs kept trying to poke the pinkskin, for many it was the first time they had seen one. Gorfjol swatted them away. When he arrived at his fathers tent he heard yelling on the inside. He dropped the still unconscious human onto the ground and pulled the tent flaps apart.

 

“You are a real skah head, you know that Urdnot?!” It was Kroaha, Braduks mother, Gorfjols ‘step mother’. Urdnot sighed, slamming his hands on the table.

 

“You are crippled Kroaha, you cannot bare another cub from me.” It was clear this argument had gone on for a while. Urdnot’s face showed exhaustion, and even though he spoke calmly, there was a sense of anger and frustration in is voice.

 

“Just because my leg is messed up doesn’t mean my…” Urdnot slammed his hands down on the table once more.

 

“Enough! I will hear no more of your complaining. Out of my tent, now before I make you get out.” Gorfjol couldn’t help but smirk, the mighty Urdnot, losing his cool over a fearoc. Kroaha hobbled out on her crutches, ignoring Gorfjol. She never cared for him, nor him for her. With another sigh, Urdnot beckoned his son to enter fully. “She bore my strongest son but is a mad fearoc.” His fathers words stung, knowing he meant Braduk but Gorfjol chose to ignore them. “Shes not like your mother was. Your mother was a warrior. She could keep level headed.” Urdnot sighed once more, looking to the ground.

 

“You have never spoken to me about my mother.” Urdnot’s face turned hard and cold, sadness hung over his expression like a dark cloud but Gorfjol sensed something else. Anger?

 

“Another time. You’re obviously here for a reason Gorfjol so get on with it.” Gorfjol raced outside the tent and brought the pirate inside.

 

“A scout, from the pirates. They…” Urdnot interupped.

 

“Your brother, I’d prefer to speak to him on this matter.” Gorfjol was stunned.

 

“B-but.”

 

“Go. Find. Him.” Urdnot stared at his son, his expression turned emotionless.

 

“Yes father.” Gorfjol left the tent, filled with shame. No, he was a strong orc. He was not ashamed of who he was. Or so he thought. He sought out Braduk, who was drinking with some orcs and ferocs at a make shift tavern. “Braduk, father wants you.” Braduk chuckled, standing up. He turned to his drinking partners.

 

“We will continue this klomp at a later date.” All the orcs laughed. Braduk pointed to one of the orcs, it was their cousin, Gundabad. “I will out drink you, you sandy coloured piece of skah.” An eruption of laughter occurred. Braduk slapped his own face trying to sober up, turning to his brother. “Everything ok?”

 

“Yes, of course. Father wants to speak to you, about the pirates.” Braduk punched Gorfjol in the shoulder.

 

“Well lets go then.” Gorfjol stood stone faced, not moving.

 

“No, he wants you and you alone.” Braduk didn’t know what to say, but Gorfjol was already leaving. “Also, tell him the pirates have a fleet of ten well armed war ships docked a little way away from the Cliffside.” And with that, Gorfjol disappeared into the abyss of tents and orcs.

 

Braduk rubbed his stubly chin as he walked, Gorfjol was never that serious. Something was up. He arrived at his fathers tent, and did a double take as he saw the legs of the pirate on one side of the room and the rest of his body on the opposite. Urdnot sat in his chair in the centre behind his table.

 

“Father, ug. Gorfjol is acting strange, do you know anything about this?” Braduk moved to a chair, sitting down, ignoring the groans the pirate made, mourning over his recently departed legs. Urdnot shrugged, spinning a bloodied knife on the table.

 

“I was honest with him.” Braduk leaned forward.

 

“In what way.”

 

“Your mother is a mad b*tch,” Braduk’s eyes widened, “if I could switch her place with Gorfjols mother I would. She may have given birth to you, my strongest son whom I want to take over after I am gone, but she may as well die. She serves no purpose here, and is a waste of food and water.” Braduk got up from his chair, writhing with anger.

 

“Watch your tongue father!” Braduk threw the table in front of him to the side, marching up to his seated father. Urdnot stood up, standing a foot taller than his son.

 

“Or what? You are my favoured son Braduk but there are plenty of ferocs to mate with here. Sit down.” The two exchanged tense stares for another moment, before both returning to there seats. “You are young. You have not experienced harsher realities than this. My generation was taught that the weak are culled and strong survive. Your generation has been living on the idea of banding together to survive, strength in numbers. My points are valid, yet so are yours. That is why your mother still lives.” Braduk sighed. He couldn’t argue with his fathers words, even if he didn’t like the sound of them. “Now, from quickly interrogating this, ‘pirate’, here, they intend to pillage the land. Our camp is too big to allow them to come inland, the chance they could take us by surprise is too great.”

 

“They have a fleet, ten ships Gorfjol said. They are armed and armoured.” The two sat quietly in thought. Braduk suddenly sprung up from his chair, picking up the knife near the fallen table. Urdnot watched curiously. Braduk moved over to the legless pirate, who was now crying. “Pinkskin, what are the chances of a ship coming to shore?” No response, then a shriek of pain. Braduk stabbed the knife down at the pirates crotch, slicing his genetalia.

 

“ARRRGH! THEY MIGHT SEND PEOPLE TO LOOK FOR ME!” The pirate cried out, pain gripping him tightly. Braduk twisted the knife.

 

“How many people are aboard each ship?”

 

“AHHHHRGH! IT VARIES!” Braduk looked back at his father who shrugged.

 

“What the skah does that mean?” The orc twisted the knife more.

 

“AHHHHHHARGHHHHH!  THE SHIP THEY’D SEND FOR ME WOULD HAVE ABOUT TWENTY CREWMEN ON IT! NOW STOP, PLEASE!” Braduk pulled the knife out, and then stabbed the pirate through the eye. The butchered human slumped, dead.

 

“Well father, we now have a plan.” Urdnot again looked at his son, curiously. “We wait until they send out a ship, we rope down, take them by surprise. They will only make that mistake once, so once we have one ship its time for battle.”

 

“One ship wont suffice.” Braduk chuckled.

 

“I know that. So on the day we attack, we use that ship to get close, send some boys over to another ship and take that over. Once we get maybe two or three we can start really fighting back.”

 

“Three. Three ships Braduk. We will take three, and keep sending orcs onto their ships to clear them out.” Urdnot stood up, placing a hand on his sons shoulder. “Good job my son. You are a tactician. I believe you will be destined for great things.”

 

“Am I truly worthless to you?” Gorfjol muttered, leaving the outside of the tent.

 

Venture to the blue abyss

 

Gorfjol sat in his tent, the night was long and hot. The words of his father stuck in his mind as if an arrow had been shot through his skull. That’s what it felt like. Braduk was always the favoured son, Gorfjol knew this. It always lurked in the back of his mind, but he never really thought about it. He held his brother in the highest regard and respected him greatly. Yet Gorfjol longed for his fathers acceptance, and hearing him say how much better Braduk was than him burnt more than a thousand flames.

 

“Brother, we take the ship. Ready yourself.” Braduk poked his head into the tent but was gone as quickly as he had come. This was the night, the night the war started. Gorfjol armoured himself, leaving his tent. A crowd of maybe thirty, thirty five orcs stood not too far a way. They were all huddled around Braduk. Gorfjol quickly joined them. “Pinkskins, pirates, have come to take our land. They will try. And they will fail. We are orcs, we endure!” The orcs around braduk cheered in agreement. “We will descend the Cliffside, and we will take their ship, and we will defend this land and we will once again, ENDURE!” The orcs roared. Braduk raised his hammer. “Lets go kill some pirates!” Clashes of steel radiated through the camp, then the march of the blood thirsty orcs. Gorfjol halted Braduk.

 

“Whats happening?” Braduk began walking and motioned for Gorfjol to follow.

 

“They have sent a ship, cannons and all to the Cliffside. They’ve shot ropes up and unless I miss my guess, will be climbing up.” Braduk chuckled. “Regardless of whether any have made it up already, we will kill them all and take their ship, and in the morning, end this.” The two began jogging to catch up with the orcs.

 

The orcs layed prone on the Hilltop, which allowed them to stay unseen and have a height advantage. Four pirates sat next to the edge of the Cliffside, already having made the climb. Braduk made the guess that they were waiting until morning to send the rest of the crew up. A fatal mistake. Without a sound, Braduk pointed to his archers. The pull of the bowstring, aim, fire…dead. The four pirates landed on the sand with a faint thud. Braduk waved his hand forward and his forces moved silently down the Hiltop dunes and reached the edge of the Cliffside. The ropes had been shot up through harpoons. Braduk kicked each of them.

 

“They’ll hold,” he said, speaking lowly and quietly, “we will only be able to send four orcs down at a time. Gorfjol, you will come down first with me,” Braduk pointed to two other orcs, “you two aswell.” No other words were spoken, nor needed to be spoken. The four orcs began their descent down. The ocean wind was uneasy this night, making the trip that much more dangerous. Braduk looked to Gorfjol to check how he was going, Gorfjol nodded. He looked to the other two orcs who nodded aswell. As they neared the ship, they noticed the crew was drunk. Most were passed out, atleast all the ones on the top deck were, and then, four consecutive thuds. The orcs had landed. Immediately the next four started their descent. Braduk, Gorfjol and the two grunts chuckled. This was going to be easier than they had initially anticipated. Slit throats, stabbed chest and removed heads was the fate of the ships crew.

 

All of the orcs had reached the ship, many were pillaging the lower decks but Braduk, Gorfjol and a few others cleared the bodies, throwing them over board. Braduk was lifting a body when the pirates clothes got caught on the railing of the ship. Gorfjol looked to his knife, then back to Braduk. Urdnots favoured son, the orc that made Gorfjol second rate. The wind had stopped for that moment, the air tense. Gorfjol drew his knife, and walked towards his brother. He felt eyes on him. Quickly, he turned and saw a young orc, maybe sixteen looking at him. The splash of the body Braduk had been working on hitting the water broke the eery silence. Braduk turned around, slapping his brother on the arm.

 

“We did well today. You and I will need to return though.” Braduk looked to a stray grunt walking around the deck. “Tell the others to remain here and try to rest. Tomorrow, we put down the pirate scum.” The grunt nodded, and Braduk and Gorfjol moved to the ropes to start the climb up.

 

“Braduk, wait.” The two turned. It was the sixteen-year-old orc. Gorfjol’s heart raced.

 

“Yes boy?” Braduk walked over to him

 

“Gor-…”

 

“Braduk we are losing the cover of night, we need to hurry.” Gorfjol shot in, Braduk nodded.

 

“You’re right. Is this important boy?” The young orc nodded, looking at Gorfjol. “Make the climb with us, you can tell me after we have attended to our business.” The young orc gulped, and Gorfjol let out a silent growl. Moving to the ropes, the trio climbed silently. Braduk’s face was determined, determined to reach the top and get to his father. Gorfjols expression however, was one of worry. He knew he had been caught out. When they reached the top, they took a moment to catch their breath.

 

“Brother, I’ll see what the boy wants. Father will want you, go Braduk.” Braduk patted his brother on the arm.

 

“Thankyou Gorfjol.” He quickly ran off, leaving Gorfjol with the young orc. Gorfjols face stretched into an evil smirk.

 

“You got a lot of balls, you know that boy?” The young orc paced backwards, but with every step, Gorfjol followed. “Trying to ruin me. Hah! Did you think I would let you even try?” Reaching the edge of the cliff, the boy had no choice but to face Gorfjol.

 

“I saw you, you were going to kill him.”

 

“Yeah, I was. I still might. My brother, hes a good orc, but I like to think of myself as better than him,” Gorfjol snapped his hand forward and grabbed the young orcs throat, “don’t think of this as something personal. It could’ve been anyone.” And with that, Gorfjol ripped his knife from its sheathe and lodged it in the brain of the orc. He took a glance down the cliff, no orcs on the top deck. Perfect. Gorfjol pulled the knife out of the young orcs skull and kicked him over the side. As Gorfjol began jogging back to the camp, a faint splash sprung from the waters bellow. Gorfjol couldn’t help it, he laughed hysterically.

 

Destined for great or terrible things

 

“You will lead the ramming ship.” Urdnot looked at Braduk across the table. Braduk was in shock.

 

“But what of your other commanders, surely they…”

 

“When you were born, the old feroc who pulled you from your mother prophesized you would be destined for great, or terrible things. The same thing was said when your brother was born. I am certain you are destined for greatness, my son. Prove me right on this day. You will lead the ship that will ram other ships, board them, and then commandeer them.”

 

“You honour me father.” Braduk bowed his head.

 

“Then honour me in return. Begin your path to greatness, today. Not tomorrow, not next year, now.” As if almost on cue, Gorfjol flung the flaps of the tent open, a gush of hot desert air flying in.

 

“I should go prepare the orcs.” Braduk and Urdnot nodded, and Braduk left.

 

“Yes, Gorfjol.”

 

“I find it a bit odd I don’t even know what the plan for this battle is, being your son and all.” Urdnot sighed.

 

“You’re on a need to know basis, ok?” Gorfjol shook his head.

 

“Tell me.” Urdnot grunted, and sighed once more.

 

“I will be in command of the first ship. We will use it to take over a second ship, which Braduk will be in command of, and again for a third ship. Braduks ship will be ramming and boarding the enemies ships, my and the other ship  will be fighting them with artillery.”

 

“I assume I will be in command of the third ship?” Gorfjol asked sincerely.

 

“Bah! No. I would not allow you to potentially ruin this plan by taking on more than you could handle.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“You will be on my ship where I can keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t skah this up.” Gorfjol was shocked.

 

“But father I deserve-…”

 

“You deserve nothing! You believe just because you are my son you are owed something? You draw breath only because it would be frowned upon for me to kill you. You, the runt who killed his mother to come into this world. My mate, who I wanted to become my lifemate. You are a shame to me and the ancestors before me. The love your mother held for you is the only reason I did not take your life when she died, because I knew how much she loved her child. Yet neither Krug nor any orc will compel me to ever give you a position of command. Go, out of my tent! Now.” Gorfjol couldn’t bear to look at his father. Without saying a word, eyes planted at his feet, Gorfjol left.

 

Dawn broke, and Urdnot stood on a pedestal, his small hoard before him. Braduk and Gorfjol were in the front lines.

 

“My brothers and sisters! We have established a new society during these tough times. War has ravaged our kin, yet we found peace.” Urdnot spoke, waving his curved sword around. Braduk looked at his father with a sense of proudness. Gorfjol couldn’t even look in his direction. “But whenever you find something good, there is always somebody ready to take it. We will stand and fight against these pinkskins, and show them that this is our land! And to take it, they will need to kill every, last, one of us!” All the orcs cheered. Only one remained silent. Gorfjol.

 

The smell of the sea filled the morning air. Urdnot stood at the helm of the ship, Braduk at his side. Gorfjol was in the lower decks. All the orcs were hyping up for the battle, but Gorfjol kept to himself.

 

“They will not know that we have taken this ship until we are close,” Braduk said to his father, “give me a small boarding party, we will take the next ship.”

 

“Yes, I will organize you fifty orcs. Gork will secure a third ship. You know your plans Braduk.” The two nodded to eachother, and the orcs prepped themselves for battle.

 

As the ship grew closer, they could make out how many men were on board each ship. The better part of seventy men per ship. The orcs outnumbered them. CRASH

 

“Go my brothers and sisters! Take the ship!” The orcs ship had just slammed up next to one of the pirate ships. Braduk lept across first, crushing a pirates skull with his hammer. He could hear Urdnot commanding Gork’s squad to board the next ship. Cannon fire broke his train of thought. Two pirates charged him simultaneously, but with two strong swings of his hammer, they each hit the deck, dead.

 

“You four, storm the lower decks, go!” Braduk pointed to four large orcs, who nodded and lifted the hatch to move to the ship’s lower decks. Braduk looked around, parried an on coming sword and swung his hammer at the pirates ribs, breaking them. Leaving the pirate to die, he moved to the ships helm, climbing up the stairs. A pirate wearing an assortment of gold jewelery stood before him, he was the captain. Braduk charged him, tackling him to the ground. Braduk offered no breathing room, and quickly snapped the captains neck. He looked over to the ship to his left, his father’s ship. It was firing at the enemy. Braduk then looked at the ship to his right, Gork had just taken it over. The orcs on Braduks ship roared, and Braduk grabbed the ships wheel. He pointed at a ship infront of him, roaring.

 

“Prepare to board brothers!”

 

Urdnot’s ship had now taken serious damage, a hole had been blown open in the side, and the ship had caught fire.

 

“Urdnot! We need more boys up here!” Urdnot nodded, beginning to run to the hatch on the deck.

 

“Take command, Ill bring up some orcs.” The lower deck was lit up with flames. All the orcs in sight were dead, leaving only Urdnot and three others alive on top. Suddenly without warning, part of the top deck collapsed. Urdnot was caught underneath the rubble, only his head and one of his arms stuck out. He snarled, smoke filling his lungs. Gorfjol quickly ran over to him, trying to get the wooden debris off of his father. “Gorfjol! Thankyou my son, quick, help me out of here.” Gorfjol suddenly stopped. “What are you doing? Help me!”

 

“No. You’ve wanted me dead. From the very beginning, you wanted me dead. I have always been the runt of the family to you. You never cared about me.” Gorfjol drew his scimitar.

 

“STOP! That is a lie Gorfjol!” Urdnot pleaded. Gorfjol did not waver. Knowing that his time had come, Urdnots pupils dilated, and he looked dead straight into his sons eyes. “Destined for terrible things…” Gorfjol, without hesitation, stabbed down into his fathers skull, ending him. More of the ship collapsed, and Gorfjol ran to the hole in the side and dived into the waters bellow.

 

“The pirates, HAVE FALLEN!” Braduk shouted, raising his bloodied shorthammer in the air. All of the orcs cheered, but soon silenced when they saw Urdnot’s ship slowly descend into the blue abyss. “NO!”

 

“Braduk! Its Gorfjol, hes in the water by the ship!” Braduk moved over to the side, seeing his brother.

 

“Bring him up!” Some of the orcs helped Gorfjol onto the ship. He was panting, and coughed up some water.

 

“Brother, I-…” Braduk moved over to his younger brother, grabbing his shoulder.

 

“Are you ok?”

 

“Yes but-…father…he told me to abandon the ship. He tried to get as many orcs off before it sank. I was the only survivor. He told me he was going to go down with the ship. I-I…I’m sorry Braduk.” Braduk bowed his head. His father was gone. Braduk slumped against the railing. “Be strong big brother, these people will look to you as their leader now. These people will need you.”

 

“You’re right. The battle is over, we have won.” Braduk and Gorfjol embraced, hugging eachother. Gorfjols face faintly stretched into an evil smile…

 

 

The battle for the badlands

 

 

The badlands were located roughly a mile away from the tent village that was now commanded by Braduk. It was referred to the badlands due to its un earthly high temperatures, only the strong could survive there. It was uncharted. The badlands itself was a valley that stretched two miles long, at the end a large mountain. On the left, a series of massive sand dunes, known as the ‘Hilltops’ and on the right, another series of sand dunes though not as big. Just beyond the dunes on the right was the ‘Cliffside’, a sharp drop that fell down to the rocky shores of the sea. A year had passed since what was now referred to as the War of the Black Flag had ended. Braduk had taken command and his people loved him.

 

A lost beast

 

Braduk sat in the seat his father had sat in for so long. Even now, a year later, it felt awkward to sit in a dead mans chair. Braduk mourned his father quickly and quietly. He couldn’t afford to focus on his emotions, not when so many people depended on him. Gorfjol walked into the tent. Ever since that day, the day the pirates were defeated, Gorfjol had been…different. Braduk could never understand why, but he knew his brother, and that was not him.

 

“You wanted to see me, brother.” Braduk perked up, sitting straight in his chair.

 

“Yes. Our numbers are forever growing. It is mostly ferocs and cubs who have lost their mates and fathers in the clan wars, but it adds to my responsibility nonetheless. The badlands are more secure. We can set up a life there, we can bunker down and protect it when need be.”

 

“You want to move this settlement, to the badlands?” Gorfjol asked, not moving from where he had first entered the tent.

 

“Regardless of what I want, that’s what I am doing. These people are my people. It is my duty to keep them safe.” Braduk spoke as he looked over the old map on the table. A un charted section, with only ‘Badlands’ written over it was where his gaze rested. Everybody knew what made up the badlands, but nobody had yet ventured inside.

 

“So tell me then brother, where do I fit into your grand scheme, hmm?” Gorfjol’s voice gave off an irritable tone. Braduk chose to ignore it.

 

“I would have you among the orcs I take to scout the badlands. We need to have an idea of where we are moving first before we go. We can’t just pack up and leave.”

 

“Name the time and place, and I will be there.” Gorfjol didn’t wait for a response, turning to leave the tent. Braduk sighed, and recalled the days when he and Gorfjol could speak without tension. Those days had long passed. Braduk went back to studying the map. He rose from his seat, made of oak. Part of the arm rest broke off as he did so. Braduk squinted, picking up the piece of oak. With a shrug, he tossed it carelessly onto the table. It landed on the words ‘Badlands’.

 

“Alright boys, this is the first step to our future. Stay close, eyes peeled, weapons out. We don’t know what we are going to find, so be ready. Lets move out.” Braduk took his group of ten men, including him and Gorfjol. The journey to the valley of the badlands was long and hot. The heat increased as they neared. Blazing, blistering, what lay ahead of you was blurred out by the haze of the heat.

 

“Skah, its hot.” One of the grunts said. The group laughed.

 

“You don’t say, dumb skah.” Another grunt said, causing more laughter.

 

“Alright, enough. We-…the skah is that?” Braduk squinted, he could barely see because of his blurred vision. Whatever was coming was big, and green. “Ready yourselves boys!” Braduks men took to battle stance, but as the thing grew close, it was revealed to be an olog. Standing at 13ft tall with nothing on but a loincloth, the olog held up his hands.

 

“I’m not here to harm you, or your orcs.” Braduk and his squad did not stand down.

 

“Whats your name, olog?” Braduk asked, hammer at the ready.

 

“Kudo.” A pause between the greenskins lasted about ten seconds.

 

“Why are you in the badlands?”

 

“Is that what you call it? Hah, I’ve called it home for a few years. Not any more though.” Kudo the olog let out a rapsy laugh, his lips were bone dry. “Got any water?” A grunt moved to offer Kudo some from his canteen, but Braduk stopped him. “Herh, well you lot look well fed. You got a camp?” Braduk and Gorfjol exchanged glances.

 

“Yes, we do.” Braduk responded, he sounded uneasy.

 

“Take me there, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

 

“No, we’ve got a job to do.” It was Gorfjol who spoke this time. It was clear he was taking too kindly to this large new comer.

 

“And what might that be, little orc?” Kudo chuckled. Braduk stepped forward, releasing his battle stance.

 

“We are moving into the badlands.” As Braduk spoke, Gorfjol grunted. “Stand down boys.”

 

“You don’t want to do that.” Kudo said, as if he were serious.

 

“Why would that be?” Gorfjol stepped forward, he still looked ready for a fight.

 

“Take me back to your camp, Ill fill you in.” Another silence. Braduk sighed, nodding.

 

“Come on then.” The journey back was quiet, almost, peaceful. Braduk and Gorfjol dragged at the back of the group, speaking quietly.

 

“You would bring that thing back with us? What if it’s a trap?” Gorfjol had repeated himself numerous times. Braduk gave the same answer.

 

“Then we will kill him and any who stand before us. We will endure, as we have always done.”

 

Arriving back at the tent village, Braduk told his men to go escape the heat and to have a drink. He, Gorfjol and Kudo made their way to the tent upon the hill. Braduk sat behind his map table, with Gorfjol leaning against it on the opposite side. Kudo stood near the enterance.

 

“It’s a nice place you’ve got here.” Kudo said, breaking the silence.

 

“Would be nicer still, if we could lay the foundation for an actual village in the badlands.” Braduk spoke without caution, as if he trusted Kudo. This annoyed Gorfjol, yet he remained silent for the time being.

 

“That raises a bit of a problem.”

 

“Why is that, Kudo?” Braduk responded.

 

“I was apart of a group of orcs, not a clan, but we followed this one orc. Skog. He is mad. He is cold, unforgiving, and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. That is why he is such an effective leader, but he has no morals, no honour. He took it too far the other night. He murdered baby cubs just to make a point. That is why I left.” There was an obvious pain in Kudo’s voice. Braduk leaned back in his chair. He was already developing a hate for this orc, this, Skog.

 

“We will end his reign of terror.” The air in the tent fell still, Braduk’s voice was as serious as ever.

 

“NO! Not my cub!” Faint cries from somewhere in the village seeped into the tent. The two orcs and the olog quickly left the tent, weapons drawn and fists at the ready.

 

Meet the mad orc

 

The orcs of the tent village gathered around at one of its outskirts. Braduk, Gorfjol and Kudo pushed their way to the front. It was there that they saw them. A large wooden cart attached to four dark brown boars. Ten orcs, crowding around it, one holding the reigns, three on the cart with loaded crossbows aimed at the people, five armed and armoured on the ground but one stood in front of them. This orc stood well over eight feet, his skin sickly and pale. The orc had long fair hair with a beard of equal length, but the bottom of it was dyed red in blood. One white eye, and the flayed face of a human attached to a chain of beads around his neck. The orc held a long thick oak club, the end of which rested against the head of a small orc cub, no older than four.

 

“My name, is Skog. I have also been fashioned as ‘Skog the mad’. Hah! Call me that to my face and Ill eat your brains.” A feroc tried to run forward but was restrained, she was the cubs mother.

 

“Please don’t hurt him!” Skog simply laughed.

 

“Well, I can be reasonable. But I can also be the baddest momoskah’ha in the land, depending on how you all treat me. Bring forth your leader, now.” Braduk made his way to the front, and Skog grinned at the sight of him. “Ah, I take it you lead these people.”

 

“I serve them as much as they serve me.” Braduk responded. Skog shrugged.

 

“A valiant notion, but a skah’n stupid one,” Skog peered past Braduk and saw Kudo, “big man, why are you here?” Kudo made his way to the front of the crowd.

 

“I could ask you the same thing Skog.” Skog nodded, making a pondering face that you could only hope even he knew was exaggerated.

 

“Honestly I was tracking you. We had been ever since you left us,” Skog’s voice went oddly serious, considering it had a lighthearted yet demented tone to it just before. “and I want you to remember, whatever happens to these people happens because you are here.” Suddenly Skog snapped back into his normal, sadistic and humouress self. “You all belong to me now, like a feroc should belong to an orc. I will return every week and take my desired amount of supplies from you. Food, materials, weapons. And in return for your cooperation, I wont wear your eyes as ear piercings.”

 

“What if we refuse?” Braduk said, clutching his hammer tightly. Skog looked almost offended.

 

“Then we will be able to read this cubs thoughts because his brains will be on the skah’n sand.” Skog looked serious now, and brought the oak club up, ready to swing. The cub’s mother cried out, as did the cub. Braduk looked at Skog, then to the cub, then to his mother.

 

“Ok. One week.” A near silent murmur floated around the camp, Gorfjol looked at Braduk wide eyed, whilst Kudo had not taken his eyes off Skog. Skog on the other hand, laughed, handing his club off to one of his orcs.

 

“Perfect. One week.” Skog kicked the cub over to his mother. Skog and his crew piled back onto the cart, and they kicked up a storm of dust and sand as they rode off. Braduk’s people stared at him. He did not return the looks, but only walked back to his tent. Kudo and Gorfjol followed.

 

“You would agree to terms with that skah’n mad orc?” Gorfjol was livid, and paced back and forth in the tent.

 

“That cubs life was at risk. I needed to protect my people.” Braduk’s voice was monotone, he stared blankly at the cloth wall of the tent, slumped in his chair. Kudo folded his arms, deep in thought.

 

“Yet you sell them off to ‘Skog the mad’?” Gorfjol yelled.

 

“Silence yourself little orc,” Kudo marched over to Gorfjol, shoving him, “he did what any –good- leader should do.” Kudo snarled at Gorfjol before returning to the table, leaning over it. “Braduk, are you sure this is the path you want to take? I have seen this happen before. His take gets bigger and bigger until you cant pay, then he wipes you out.” Braduk was listening, but his face showed conflicting emotions. Gorfjol slammed his hands down onto the table.

 

“Well then brother, you know what we have to do. We out number his what, ten orcs? Take our best fighters to his camp and end them before they can do any real damage.” Braduk nodded, standing up.

 

“Get our cousin, Gundabad and our four best fighters. Go Gorfjol.” Gorfjol smirked, running out of the tent. Kudo began to speak but Braduk cut him off.

 

“Kudo, could you take us to the camp if we used the path on the dunes?”

 

“Yes but…”

”Good, prepare yourself.”

 

“Braduk wait, there is more than-…” It was too late, Braduk had already left the tent. During the journey to the badlands Kudo tried to speak up, but was shut down by Gorfjol every time he did. Eventually the olog decided to let them find out for themselves. The group of nine orcs crouched atop the dunes of the Hilltop, their eyes wide and jaws open.

 

“Holy skah…” Gundabad muttered.

 

“This is what I tried to tell you, you fools!” Kudo said as his face scrunched up. They were looking at a semi tent, semi hut village, almost as large as their own.

 

“How many…” Braduk’s voice showed no hint of fear, only worry.

 

“A little less than your entire village. Yet they are all males, all warriors.” A few soft thuds graced the sand behind the orcs. They all sprung around, and were met by almost twenty orcs, each with crossbows, loaded and aimed.

 

“Weapons on the ground boys, make this easy.” Having no choice, Braduk and his men did as they were told. “Bind them.”

 

Braduk didn’t try to struggle free as he was brought through the camp. He knew it would achieve nothing. The sun began its descent over the horizon, but its heat lingered in the air. Finally, they reached the mountain that sat at the end of the badlands between the two dune walls. Resting against it sat a make shift throne made of bones from various creatures. Sat atop the throne, was Skog, his oak club lying across his lap. Braduk and his orcs were put on their knees in a line in front of the throne.

 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you all so soon.” Skog laughed, and his men did as well, but it was clear they did it out of the fear of what would happen if they didn’t. “You know, leader orc, I never got your name.” Braduk growled lowly.

 

“Braduk.”

 

“Hmm, for some reason I seemed to imagine something a little more…pinkskin. Strange huh. But lets get down to business, Braduk. Why are you here?” Skog relaxed back into his throne, as if he was just having a casual conversation with a friend. Braduk looked at Skog’s non-colour coordinated eyes with a deep feeling of hate.

 

“I was coming to kill you. And I promise you, I will.” Braduk’s gaze did not waver for a single second.

 

“Honesty is key in friendship Braduk, so I appreciate it. Yet to try and kill me, eh, it’s a big mistake. Now I thought I made it clear back at your skah’y village that I can be reasonable, I didn’t bash the cubs skull in. Yet you just have to skah’n push me and test my patience,” Skog sighed, but made it obvious it was put on, “well one of you needs to be punished.” Skog rose from his throne, paced along the line of restrained orcs. He passed each of the grunts with little care. He arrived at Braduk. “I cant kill you, Ill lose the cooperation of your people.” He moved next to Gorfjol. “Heh, too small.” Next, Kudo. “Ah, old friend. I would not have you so easily from this world.” Lastly, Gundabad. “Looks like its you my friend.” Braduk tried to get up, but was quickly held back.

 

“NO! Skah’n take me, he has done nothing wrong.” Skog laughed, moving over to Braduk, crouching infront of him.

 

“The very fact he was here is what he did wrong. Now I will only take his life, think of it as a kindness. Push me, and not only will I kill all of you, we will sweep through your village and kill every single orc that resides there.” Braduk looked to his cousin.

 

“Its ok cousin. I sacrifice myself so that you may return and end this sorry skah. You would have done the same for me.” Braduks jaw tightened, and Skog moved infront of Gundabad. “Come on the-…” CRACK. Skog had swung with such a heavy force, three out of the four of Gundabads tusks snapped off. CRACK. Gundabad’s head snapped back, his nose broken. CRACK. Skog laughed as Gundabad’s jaw dislocated. He was in pain, but kept upright. CRACK. Blood poured from his eyeball as it popped out from the hit. CRACK. Gundabad fell to the side, barely managing a grunt. CRACK. A dent in the orcs skull appeared. CRUNCH. Gundabads skull caved in, his brains spilling to the floor.

 

Panting, but laughing Skog wiped some blood splatter off his face. He moved back over to Braduk, crouching before him.

 

“You made me do this, I hope your remember that. But I also hope you remember I can be fair, I can be reasonable. But don’t push me. This is a warning for each of you.” Skog got up and moved back to his throne, easing back into it. “Take them back to their settlement. Hah, see you in a week Braduk.”

 

Evil at your doorstep

 

A week passed, Skog allowed Braduk Gundabads body for funeral rites. The whole village was eerily quiet. No orcs drinking, no orcs training, no socializing. Suddenly, a horn was blown. Braduk, Kudo and Gorfjol emerged, seeing Skog with about fifty orcs spread between three carts. Skog walked up to Braduk and put his arm around him.

 

“Hello friend!” Skog said. Braduk shrugged his arm off, his face snarling up. “Don’t be like that Braduk. How have you been?” Braduk sucked his teeth, grunting.

 

“Take what you want and go.” Skog shrugged as Braduk spoke.

 

“I intend to, but you don’t need to be such a feroc about it.” And with that, Skogs crew began rummaging through the tents. People were kicked out of their little homes and had their possessions pillaged.

 

“You can’t just let this happen Braduk!” Gorfjol whispered. Braduk shook his head.

 

“Let it happen Gorfjol, I know what I’m doing.”

 

“You have gone soft!” Gorfjol shouted, punching his brother in the jaw. Kudo went to grab him but Braduk wove him away. Cracking his neck, Braduk went face to face with Gorfjol. The two stared eachother down. Skog emerged, stealing a pregnant ferocs food and eating it. He cheered as the fight occurred. Braduk headbutted Gorfjol, stunning him. He spear tackled him to the ground, and began laying punches into his little brothers face.

 

“Ok enough.” It was Skog. Kudo pulled Braduk of Gorfjol. The two brothers stood up, glaring at eachother. Gorfjol stormed off. Kudo patted Braduk on the shoulder. Skog smirked, waving his club in the air. His orcs moved back and climbed into the carts. As Skog went to leave, he stopped in front of Braduk. “You’re an interesting host Braduk, Ill give you that.” Skog chuckled as he got into one of the carts, and with a series of tugs, the boars trotted away, pulling the carts with them.

 

“Kudo, on me.” Braduk motioned for Kudo to follow and they made their way back to the hill tent. Braduk quickly sat down, overlooking the map. He looked at the piece of oak on the “Badlands” marking on the map. He ran his fingers through his hair. Oak. He threw the piece of oak to the side and pointed to the bone placed on the very edge of the map. “Throughout this week I have been sending scouts all through out the sands. They have reported a human controlled cart that ventures on the very edge of the desert where sand meets dirt that carries dynamite. The cargo is large enough to take a considerable amount of Skogs orcs out, leveling the playing field and evening the odds.”

 

“You seek to take the cart.” Braduk nodded. “Then we descend upon the pinkskins with superior numbers.” Braduk shook his head.

 

“No, such a large movement of troops will cause attention, only me and you will be going.” Braduk balled his hands into fists, resting them onto the table.

 

“You don’t bring Gorfjol?”

 

“Its best if my brother has time to simmer the skah down. This is our one shot, and his foolishness could put it in jeopardy.” Kudo nodded.

 

“When do we leave?”

 

“Dusk. It will take a days trip up and back, that is why we leave so soon.” Kudo nodded once more.

 

“I understand. I will prepare.”

 

Nightfall had just begun when Braduk and Kudo left the village. The two traveled silently. They had become good friends, Braduk considered Kudo his second in command over Gorfjol by this point, but there was too much on each of their minds. The pair covered much ground, and by midnight, they chose to stop.

 

“We will rest here until dawn. If we’re lucky, we will hit where the cart passes by noon.” Braduk said, rolling his shoulders. Kudo offered Braduk some water but he waved it away. An hour passed, and Kudo was fast asleep. Braduk was not afforded that luxury. His mind was racing. Could Skog be defeated? What would his father have thought if Braduk failed? He had the weight of his ancestors on his shoulders, and the lives of his people in his hands. Braduk tossed and turned in the sand, but never found rest that night.

 

The morning sun just broke over the horizon. Braduk slapped Kudo, who punched him in the gut. They laughed.

 

“How foolish of me to wake a sleeping giant.” Braduk chuckled, gathering his things. Kudo got up, stretching.

 

“If only you were Skog. I would’ve ripped your orc parts off and fed them to you.” Kudo said with a yawn.

 

Braduk and Kudo continued the walk to the edge of the desert. They arrived at the path before noon, making good time.

 

“Come on! We need to get this stuff delivered to the dwarves. Hurry it up!” One of the humans in the back of the cart called out. The one in the front holding the reigns of the two horses pulling the cart rolled his eyes. Two more sat in the back with the one who yelled out. The path they turned onto was half sand, half dirt. On one side, green shrubbery. The other, blistering sand.

 

“Why have we stopped moving?!” The commander of the humans got off from the back of the cart and walked around to the front. The driver had a bolt lodged through the side of his head and was slumped over. “What the fu-...” An axe came flying through the air, hitting the commander in the chest. Braduk and Kudo emerged from the bushes. Kudo ripped his axe out of the dieing humans sternum, charging at the other two who were now off the cart. Braduk ripped the bolt from the driver’s head and engaged the left over humans, crossbow in one hand hammer in the other.

 

“A good find, Braduk.” Braduk nodded to Kudo, who had just kicked the driver from his seat. The two humans had fallen rather quickly. One was lopped in half, the other, missing half his skull.

 

“We will make it back by nightfall if we don’t stop, which we wont.” Braduk sat in the driver’s seat and Kudo climbed into the back.

 

“Finally, I can rest my legs!” Kudo exclaimed, laughing. Braduk chuckled, and with a whip of the reigns, the horses rode forth.

 

Day soon drew onto night, and Braduk and Kudo soon drew close to home. But as they could see it on the horizon, they also saw five carts. Braduks eyes widened, he whipped the horses with their reigns, commanding them to quicken. They rode with all the speed they could. As they arrived, Skog was waiting patiently to greet them.

 

“Braduk! Returned from your adventure it seems.” Skog had a devilish grin sprawled across his mangled face.

 

“A week has not passed Skog you break the agreement!” Braduk said, hopping off the cart. Kudo soon followed. Braduk went face to face with Skog, and for the first time realized, he had to look up. Skog chuckled, patting Braduk on the arm.

 

“My boys and I had a feast to celebrate your cooperation. We quickly ran out of supplies, so we decided to make an early return. Your people tell me you barely have enough for yourselves? Seems we took too much last time. Oops.” Skog looked back to his orcs who all laughed, but Skogs attention soon shifted to the cart of dynamite. “What do we have here hmm?” He prowled around the cart, peering at the dynamite. “Is it safe to assume, you brought this as a gift for me because you were undersupplied?” There was a silence, and Kudo stared at Braduk, who met his gaze for but a moment before speaking.

 

“Yes Skog, of course.”

 

“Perfect! Now to stress that I am such a good and respectable skah’n orc, I will take this and call it even. Next week, I expect normal supplies though.” Skog put his arm around Braduk, who did not shake it off this time. Braduk chuckled.

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Skog was taken back by Braduks words, but laughed.

 

“See you next week.” Skog ordered some of his orcs onto the dynamite cart, and the now convoy of six rode off. Braduk began walking away, back to his tent upon the hill. About an hour passed, and then a grunt flung the tent flaps open, panting.

 

“Braduk, Gorfjol and a small group, twenty orcs, they’ve left and are headed for Skog!” Braduk looked up from his table.

 

“How many orcs do we have that are fit for battle?”

 

“Five hundred by my last count.” Braduk nodded.

 

“Assemble them all, get them to meet me on the outskirts of the village in an hour.” The grunt nodded, and almost as soon as he left Kudo burst through the tent.

 

“Braduk, what was that?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“With Skog, are you two friends now or some skah?”

 

“I don’t have the time to explain, but trust me Kudo, I know what I’m doing. Ready yourself for battle. I want you at the outskirts with me in thirty minutes.” The two exchanged nods and went their separate ways. Skog’s last hours were ticking.

 

A brighter future

 

Braduk looked at the horde before him. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he stood amongst them and his father was where he was now. Thoughts of the past served no purpose, and Braduk gripped his shorthammer, scanning the faces of his troops.

 

“My brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, my orcs. We have suffered for too long. We have been forced to eat dirt at the hands of this, monster, known as Skog. That ends now. Our path has been difficult, it has been dark and perilous. But I see a brighter future. And yet to get there, I ask that you follow me, one last time, push yourselves, one last time. And then, we will start truly living, this I promise you.” All of the orcs nodded in agreement. “The sand beneath your feet is sacred ground, watered with tears of blood. We have shed them, but on this day, Skog and his foul orcs will bleed rivers!” Braduk held his hammer up, and his orcs cheered his name. The forces of Braduk, marched.

 

Dawn broke as the orcs of Braduk arrived at the badlands. Braduk send one hundred and fifty orcs to move along the Hilltop so they could attack from the side and outflank Skogs orcs. The forces of Braduk stood proud, proud to fight for their leader, and their leader was proud to fight for them. Marching through the valley, they hit Skogs camp. Standing on the outskirts, Kudo blew a horn to get the orcs attention.

 

Skog emerged, holding Gorfjol by his war pony, dragging him along. Once he felt he was close enough, he dropped Gorfjol to his knees and held a long dagger to his throat. Twenty orcs stood behind Skog, each holding pikes with the heads of the orcs Gorfjol took with him impaled on the tip. Braduk grunted, snarling at the sight of his brother.

 

“It’s a shame we meet like this Braduk!” Skog called out, chuckling. “You just had to push me, didn’t you?! Well now I kill your brother, then we kill you. That’s they way its got to be, I’m sorry my friend. But you brought this on yourself.” It was Braduk who laughed this time, seeing the cart of dynamite, his laugh progressed into a shouting command.

 

“ARCHERS! THE DYNAMITE, FIRE!” On cue, his archers shot a flurry of arrows, some strayed hitting orcs, but most pierced the dynamite. With a deafening roar, the explosives shot out, as if springing to life, spurting fire and shrapnel. The explosion wiped out more than half of Skogs orcs, which left him with about three hundred and fifty. Braduks orcs on the Hilltop charged down, engaging Skog’s dazed and stunned followers. Skog himself and been blown off his feet by the impact. Gorfjol lay face down in the sand, but was breathing. Braduk ran forward, gunning straight for Skog, who by that point had gotten to his feet albeit shakily. When he grew near, Braduk lept into the air, bringing his hammer down onto Skogs skull. Dazed, Skog dropped to his knees. Raising his hammer to finish him, Braduk left himself exposed, allowing Skog to crack some of his ribs with his oak club. The two paced back, preparing to engage. The battle raged on around them, and Kudo had already killed the better part of fifty orcs.

 

Braduk’s hammer and Skogs club met, and the two came face to face.

 

“I promised you I would kill you, skah’ha” Braduk roared, overpowering Skog, pushing him back. Skog parried Braduks next swing.

 

“You will try, and fail! As all those before you did!” Skog swept Braduks leg, causing him to land on the sand with a thud. He swung his club into Braduks hammer, knocking it out of his hand. “Now, you will suffer the same fate as your cousin? I think I remember him calling you his cousin. No matter.” Skog brought his club up, a sadistic smile splattered across his jaw. He slammed the oaken log down with all his force, but it was caught. Braduk had caught it. He got to his knees, and then to his feet, Skog was in shock. Braduk ripped the club from Skogs hands, breaking it in two.

 

“I am not like the ones before me.” Grabbing Skogs throat, Braduk threw four devastatingly powerfully punches to Skogs face, before tripping him to the ground. Spitting some blood, Braduk walked over to his hammer, clutching its handle. He lifted it high above his head, Skog looked at it, beginning to laugh. Braduk shook his head. “Skog, you truly are mad.” Skog broke out into a hysterical laugh, and in one swift blow, his skull was cracked open. Slumping back into the sand, Skog the Mad was dead.

 

When the rest of Skogs forces had been slain, Braduk sought out Gorfjol. He was standing in a crowd of some Braduks orcs. Braduk, with Kudo at his side pushed his way through, punching Gorfjol in the face. The punch sent him to the sand.

 

“What the skah Braduk?” Gorfjol cried out, holding his jaw.

 

“I have had enough, of you disobeying Gorfjol!” Gorfjol quickly got to his feet. “You could have ruined the plan!” Those words had a familiar ring in Gorfjol’s ears.

 

“I did what you refused to do!” Gorfjol retaliated.

 

“No, you put my people’s lives at risk, you let your emotions get the better of you!” Braduk shoved Gorfjol. “You have lost say in all decisions of worth, I will not allow you to bring any further danger to my people!” Gorfjol shoved back.

 

“Your people?! When did they stop being my people too?! You know you were always the prodigal son, the favorite. Father even said so to my face! I was a runt to him, and you, his pride, and it had always been so! Until I ended his wretched life!” Gasps sprung up amongst the orcs.

 

“What?” Braduk dropped his hammer.

 

“On his ship, he did no noble deed. I killed him, for he would have killed me in the same situation!” Braduk lept forward, punching Gorfjol again in the jaw. Gorfjol fell back, and Braduk moved ontop of him, laying punches into his jaw and head. Orcs moved in to break them up, but Kudo motioned for them to stop.

 

“He is gone from this world because of you!” Gorfjols blood splattered across the sand and Braduks knuckles.

 

“As would the rest of us if I had not been captured and you had come to rescue me!” Braduk stopped punching.

 

“You think, I came for you?” He got to his feet, Gorfjol did aswell. “You think I came to rescue you? I came to finish Skog, not for you. That was the plan you skah’ha, and you put that in jeopardy.” Gorfjols face turned red. He looked to a group of five orcs, his best friends. The group left the valley. Kudo walked over to Braduk.

 

“Don’t worry about him.” Braduk shook his head.

 

“I’m not, even so, he will be back. My thoughts turn only towards the future. A brighter future, for our people. We will build something sustainable for generations. We will live.”

 

 

The village wars

 

Six months after Skog the mad and his horde were defeated by the forces of Braduk, the foundations of what would soon be named Kenuk were being put into place in the badlands. Braduk had assigned Kudo as his second in command, and Gorfjol had begun his descent into insanity. The two brothers were about to engage in a series of battles that would later be dubbed as ‘The Village Wars’.

 

((Written by Higgsyy))

 

Prologue

 

Braduk wiped sweat from his forehead. The idea of building a legitimate village to live in for the refugees was good, but it was going to be some real hard work. He looked over to his old friend, Kudo. The ogre dropped a small pile of stone on top of another previous layer. “Get’n tired Kudo?” Braduk asked with a chuckle. “Aint nub rock gonna best me hur hur.” They sat down, taking a break after a few hours of lugging wood stone and sand around. “Lat got any further in com’n up whid da rank systems?” Kudo asked throwing an empty bottle of cactus residue to the side. Braduk shook his head. “Nut’ing yet brud.”

 

After the devastating clan wars, orcs were scattered. The intelligent lived in the refugee camp, whilst the bravado went out to be nomads. The one Braduk and Kudo lived in was just a series of scraggly tents and a seemingly always half empty well. Braduk came up with the idea of building a village, or town that would be sustainable so that the descendants would have a place to live. Because at that point in time, a lot of people thought the race was coming to an end. Each able bodied orc built. Males, fearocs, elders, cubs even helped. Braduk paved the way for everyone. A natural leader. Kudo was his long time friend and second in command.

 

“Why is lat settle’n down in one area? Dat is da pink way of do’n fings.” Braduk looked frustrated as his half brother Gorfjol protested him. Gorfjol was younger to Braduk, and hated him. He hated the idea of staying in one area and building a town. He liked the nomadic lifestyle and he made sure everyone knew it. “Look Jol, just piss off. If ya nub like wot we am doing, then leave.” Gorfjol grunted walking off. Five other orcs joined him as they left the lines of the area as they always did. Kudo walked over pointing at the six walk off “Me has bad feel’ens bout dem.” Braduk was silent and continued to finish building the town armoury.

 

A small boy ran into the half built war room of the town house, seeing Braduk Kudo and a third young orc, Gargonak.  “Braduk, lats bruddah approaches whid many others. Dey has weapons and armours” Braduk growled to himself as the trio walked outside. They town was now mostly built, and was named Kenuk. Gorfjol walked over and spoke immediately. “We has had enough of dis disrespct to our ancestors! Lat may have more people then us, but we has the will of Krug!” Braduk folded his arms. “Fine, go play leader. Come back when you tire of be’n a imaginary creature.” Gorfjol stepped forward, and Kudo did aswell. Gorfjol was afraid of the fourteen foot ogre. So he spoke; “Those who wish to honour da urukish ways, come whid us. Those who nub, will die.” Several orc males stepped forward and joined Gorfjols cause. Women and children stayed. Braduk shook his head. “If its war lats want, den its war lat will get.” More males stepped beside Braduk and the original trio, and it looked like they were going to battle it out right there. The forces were even give or take a few.

 

An elder stepped forward. “Enough of dis! In tiks of distress, wes should band together, nub split into dub forces. Especially if it means another war.” Gorfjol threw a dagger at the elder, and he was killed instantly upon connection. Gorfjol looked back at Braduk. “Blood will be spilt big bruddah. Lat always seemed whitewash.” The groups stormed off and that was it. For now…

 

Gorfjols Campaign

 

Gorfjol stared down his five hundred orcish troops. They were preparing to march into Kenuk and wipe Braduk and the village off the map. “Right uruks! Listen up! Braduk and his pack of pink ***** dogs fink they run da joint. They bring whitewash to a whole new level!” The orcs begin to grow rowdy as he speaks, shouting and growling. “But, we is KRUGS children. Krug would want us to fend for ourselves in da environments. Nub settle down like *******.” Gorfjol was narrow minded. In the coming events of battle, he would go on to contradict himself and do an act that would go against what he “stood” for.

 

A mere couple of kilometres away, was the Kenuk village. It was fully built and expanding. Everything was running smooth and the though of a war was a distant memory. Braduk held his newborn daughter, Somalakti. His mate, Woshfle, layed still recovering from the birth. Kudo walked in and began to speak before seeing what was going on and stepping outside. Braduk gave the cub back to her mother and stood up to head outside. “Wots go’n on Kud?” Kudo pointed to a goblin scout. The goblin spoke with short breath. “Me was just out over da ridge where nomadic uruks was peeped, and me saw Gorfjol and a army of hundreds!” Braduks eyes went wide. He though for a second. “Go, find everyone in the city. Blah to da women and cubs to get inside. Blah to da males to meet me in da center of town.” The goblin nodded running off. Braduk turned to Kudo. “Me new dis day would com. Go get da soldiers, get dem geared up and ready for a fight.”

 

An army of seven hundred strong headed out to meet the attacking forces. They marched for an hour before seeing a swarm of orcs, led by a familiar face.

 

Braduk shouted “HOLD!” Kudo repeated “HOLD!” they each stopped with grunts.

 

Gorfjol shouted “CHARGE DEM!” each orc ran at Braduks forces.

 

Braduk waved his axe in the air and his forces charged. A now stampeed of roughly 1200 orcs ran. When they collided, Braduk spear tackled Gorfjol. Kudo, towering over everyone else swung his massive sword, cleaving many in seconds. Gorfjol and Braduk battled it out, and just as Gorfjol looked like he was about to die, fled. His force of now four hundred, followed. The battle was won, but the war had just begun.

 

A rat amongst men

 

Gorfjol was drawn back and things had simmered down. Everything had changed now. Kenuk had been fortified, every male had to be in the defense force and even though several skirmishes were taking place the forces of Kenuk were winning. Gorfjols army was growing, and little did Braduk know, his luck was about to change. Dramatically. The problem with Gorfjol was, he was blood drunk. He recruited any nomad wandering around the place, without any training. Braduk however trained the infants up until they were of a age, usually around sixteen to fight. Now, the enemy outnumbered Kenuks forces, but they were more skilled.

 

The sun slowly set, casting a red haze over the desert sands. The orcs of Kenuk had returned victorious from a skirmish with Gorfjols army. They had lost the one prior so it was crucial to not do it again. They dropped their gear of at their respected zones and gathered in the center of city to celebrate. The people of Kenuk joined them. It was quite a festive time, after the big scare that a contingent of Gorfjols army had made it past the mountain reach beside the city. At that moment, life was good. Braduk moved around, drunk as everyone else in the city. Orcish flirting, headbutts klomps all that was taking place. He turned at the sound of a voice, “Oi Braduk,  com ‘ere.” Braduk turned and walked over putting his arm around one of his veterans shoulders. “Ug Gargonak! Wot lat want?” Gargonak twisted out of Braduks arm, in that movement pulling out a dagger and plunging it into Braduks rib cage. Blood poured from his mouth, and the wound as he fell backwards. Gasps were heard and Gargonak had to immdietly fend off hundreds of angry greenskins. There was one person though, that he did not count on. Kudo walked forward, his white eyes had gone red and were glowing. He picked up the traitor, and it began. With a splatter of blood, Gargonaks slaughter started.

 

Kudo in a rage clawed off Gargonaks ears, then stabbed his eyes with his thumbs. Gargonak was slammed onto the ground, and Kudo launched a fist down at Gargonaks chest. A huge crack was heard. Too many attacks to be counted. After the bloodlust had settled, all that was left of the traitor, was literally blood and chunks. The citizens crowded around the lifeless body of the orc who had led them, build their home and was a role model to each of them. Within the first five minutes after Braduks death, a pedestal was built. Braduks body was layed on it, and burnt. They people realised Gorfjol meant business, and now, so did they.

 

The storming of Gorfjols lair

 

Gorfjol woke to the sound of his four best orcs walk into his wooden hutt. They each had grins but their heads bowed in their leaders presence. “Wot? Why does lats wake me?” Gorfjol asked sitting up. “Braduk. He am flat.” Gorfjol shot up, eyes wide. “Hosh! Hosh! Now dey am runn’n scared. We relax for now.” They nodded. The tides had turned for the protagonists. The army of Gorfjol was going to smugly let the death of Braduk sink in. They were in pole position to strike, and if they did who knows what could have happened. But they didn’t. And so things were going to go horribly wrong.

 

The ground rumbled. The horns sounded. The roars echoed. The sun rose. Kudo and the entire force of Kenuk, nine hundred and forty orcs could be seen walking up the hill to Gorfjols base of operations. “FLAT DEM ALL! LEAVE NUBAZH!” Kudo yelled. He was pissed. The forces charged the gate. It was knocked down within seconds and they flooded in. About three hundred orcs were in that base. A surprisingly minuscule number to the army they had battled before. Never the less, Gorfjol was going to be hung in the center of Kenuk. The warriors ran past Kudo as he walked in, wielding his double handed axe with one hand and in the other, Braduks legendary hammer. Skulls were smashed, blood was spilt and huts were burnt. But, no Gorfjol. Kudo was infuriated. He made a point of pinning the dead bodies up against the walls of the fort. A young orc reported back to Kudo. “Gorfjol am nub in da area.” Kudo knew this but still questioned; “WHERE IS HE?” They were all shocked. This was the first time Kudo had been this angry. The whole place was burnt to the ground and all that was left was ashes. They marched out angryily.

 

When Gorfjol did return, he was shocked. He arrived with an army of two thousand plus. “DA SKAH HAPPENED?”

 

Peace, for now

 

Kenuk had recovered from its devastating blow. Many years had passed, and Braduks daughter had gone on to have grandchildren. Baderkuk, the middle aged grandchild who at age twenty three, was in high command of the village. Kudo was still around. Old, but still around. They were going to found a new clan. Clan Braduk. Everyone in the village was a member. Baderkuk was the chieftain, and Kudo was rank warmachine. They had their elders and militarian ranks. They were organised and kept a good foothold on the attacks that Gorfjol was still leading. The reason how this war started was forgotten, and the people only wanted blood.

 

Baderkuk, the chieftain of the clan and village went on to have one child, Goregutz. Kudo never had a cub. The Kenuk village was celebrating the day they had in honour of Braduk, known as the “Zpithammah” day. The origin of this name was simply the name Braduk gave to his hammer weapon, now wielded by Baderkuk. Of course, fights still took place but it looked like the war was coming to an end. Without a victor. It was disappointing to the people of Kenuk, but Baderkuk care for his people. He wasn’t going to let them die without a cause. In the meantime, they had built a barracks about a kilometre away from the village. A small guard post stayed at one time as they rotated.

 

Kenuks stand

 

Gorfjol barked orders at his army of three thousand. With a shout of “MOVE IT!” the force of Gorfjol marched out for Kenuk. Not only did Gorfjol have his orcs, he had about fifty rogue humans with him also. Spineless. He made a big deal about Braduk supposedly being whitewash, yet he requires help from pinkskins. But, still, they were going to kill every male fearoc and cub there.

 

Baderkuk sat in the smith, having just finished crafting the last golok, a machete like weapon that he intended to pass down to his children and throughout the family with the hammer also. He looked up to see Kudo, with a worried look on his face. “Its Gorfjol. Whid a army of thousands.” Baderkuk had to react fast. He stood up and ran outside. He gathered every warrior in the city. The women and cubs were ordered out of the city to move to the barracks. Within the hour, Kenuk was basically abandoned. They fifty orc guard, plus Baderkuk and Kudo stood in the borders of the village. Kudo spoke up. “Baderkuk, for Goregutz and da villages sake. Go get da army. Go to da Barraks. We will hold dem off for now.” Baderkuk’s face went blank. The elder ogre pushed Baderkuk “GO BADERKUK” Baderkuk ran to the barracks to go rally the full force of the Braduk clan.

Kudo ordered each soldier to find a good spot, so they could have the element of surprise.  “Quick. We nub has much tik…” He signalled for them to wait. “Bruddahs, it has been me lifes honour, to klomp along side lats. Braduk waits for us in da spirit uzg. Me fink, we should make him wait, a little longer.” They each cheered and roared, retreating to their strategic spots. Gorfjols immense army could be seen in the hazey distance of the hot dry sandy pisshole they call home. In the dead silence, a goblin ran out to the forces. Kudo exhaled. Any hope of winning this battle was now done. Gorfjol was quickly informed of their plan. The force of fifty one emerged, standing in two lines. “Easy boys” Kudo said, breathing deeply. The younger orcs looked confident but said nothing. Gorfjols army stopped. He then yelled “FIRE!” A swarm of arrows came from the mountain ridge to the right of them. They were cut down to thirty seven right there. “CHARGE BRUDDAHS!” Kudo yelled, as he ran forward. His small contingent followed. Kudo axed one in the head, pulling it out and cleaving several more in a series of two hits. He saw Gorfjol killing a young guard, no more then seventeen years old. Suddenly, he dropped his axe. He looked at the ground and saw his entire arm on the ground. “QUICK QUICK QUICK FLAT HIM” Gorfjol yelled. Kudo was hit with four arrows in the shins. He still ran forward, grabbing the orc he hated the most by the neck. One of Gorfjols inner circle orcs cut Kudos other arm off. Kudo was now the only one still alive. He kicked Gorfjol in the ribs, they shattered upon impact. Two more orcs stabbed Kudo in the side and stomach. He bit one in the neck and ripped out his entire throat.

 

Soon after, Kudo was struck in the throat with an arrow. Six more orcs stabbed him. He fell to his knees, and Gorfjol was helped up. He kicked Kudo onto his back, and stabbed him through the chest. Kudo died as soon as the blade hit him.

 

If it wasn’t for Kudo, and the brave orcs who stayed with him, Baderkuk could not have rallied the Braduk clan, and the civilians would not have made it to safety. Whether you hate him, or admire him, Kudo died a hero.

 

Baderkuks revolt

 

“Com on! Git the rhinos!” Baderkuk shouted as the most elite fifty warriors of the clan mounted the rhinos stationed at the barracks. An old veteran, Mojgak led them. Baderkuk told him “Go now bruddah. Lead lats company to da ridge and wait for me signal. Krug give lats strength.” Mojgak nodded shouting for his contingent to follow. The herd of rhinos rode off. Baderkuk signalled for his force of two thousand and three hundred to move. They didn’t walk. They ran. The ground trampled beneath them, and they made their presence known by shouting and roaring. Far over to the left, Mojgaks company was about a few hundred meters out from the mountain.

 

Crashes of buildings echoed throughout Kenuk. Gorfjols force, battered but still in near full strength began to destroy the city. Their morale was lessened by Kudos stand. They didn’t expect a Braduk to have that much courage, let alone fifty of them. They each looked over their shoulders just in case something was going to happen. Gorfjol signalled for the archers on the mountain ridge to come down and aid him. As they made their way down the steep mount, the ground started shaking. Now, at the far edge of the city, shouting could be heard, and the ground shook aswell there now. Gorfjols three thousand bunched up in the center of the city, and the pinkskins looked around with tough looks on their faces. Each, human was crushed under the ton weight of the rhinos and the orcs that rode them. They exploded over the top of the mountain, killing all the humans in a single shot. Next, the force of two thousand and three hundred emerged from the far ends of the city, led by Baderkuk.  They had nowhere to run now, for the rhinos would catch them. Gorfjol back peddled trying to escape, The front lines of Baderkuks force jumped at the enemy, and the sidelines of Gorfjols army was demolished by the rhinos. As the rhinos tore the backlines to shreds, Baderkuk and his army fought the surviving warriors. Baderkuk knew whom he wanted to kill. He ran, and as he did he lodged his golok in the chest of one orc, then punched one in the face. The rage filled orc continued to run, hammering another in the chest. He saw Gorfjol. Baderkuk sprinted at him. Gorfjol held up a stone mace, but he was tackled to the ground. Punch after punch to the face of Gorfjol. He screamed as the fists landed into his face. Baderkuk got up, grabbing his smallest golok. He stabbed it into the sternum of Gorfjol repeatedly. Finally, he ripped Gorfjols heart out. He stood up, holding the heart in the air. The fighting stopped for a second, as everyone watched. Baderkuk crushed the heart, and Gorfjols army, now in absolute fear tried to flee. There were no survivors.

 

Baderkuks army had minimal casualties. Amongst the few however, was Mojgak. He had his head cut off. The dead were burnt as the sun set. The war, was finally over

 

    

The fall of Kenuk

 

Many years after the village wars, Baderkuk’s son Goregutz had risen to the seat of chieftain. Kenuk was a thriving city, and for entertainment, they hosted gladiatorial esque games to show who the strongest orc was, and who would be the champion of Kenuk. However, the ancient city’s downfall was coming. The Undead had begun to seize Aegis, and with it, Kenuk would soon follow.

 

In the blue corner

 

Gargant stood naked in the underground room at the arena. He looked at his lifemate, Maia who walked towards him holding a black loincloth with a gold skull painted on it. It was Gargant’s symbol. Gargant began putting on the loincloth when Maia cupped her hands around his chiseled jaw.

 

“I have never liked you going out there.” Her words were carried by a voice that knew she could not stop Gargant even if she truly tried.

 

“I’ve proven troublesome to defeat.” Gargant said, having finished putting the loincloth on he grabbed her hands with his own, chuckling.

 

“Its not that, people die in these fights. What would happen if you fell? You’re cub would grow up without a father?” Maia pleaded as she always did, but knew it would achieve naught. At that moment an orc grunt entered the room.

 

“Gargant, it is time.” Gargant nodded to the orc who quickly left. He pressed his forehead against Maia’s who returned the gesture. A mere second later, he transformed into the beast, the champion of Kenuk. Snarling, snorting and spitting, he exploded out the room, ready to enter the arena. Goregutz sat in the arena’s Pulvinus, with his life mate and the city’s elders joining him. The aged chieftain looked across his people, packed in the arena. Every orc in Kenuk wanted to see their champion fight. Goregutz then looked into the arena itself, a goblin, the size of a human, lean and toned stood, hopping from foot to foot. He let out an annoyed grunt, it was Meng. Goregutz rose from his seat, raising his hands to silence the crowd.

 

“The time has come my people, for the main klomp. Meng, the challenger, wishes to attempt to topple the mountain that is our champion,” The crowd started chanting his name. “GARGANT” “GARGANT” “GARGANT”, “the orc, who has crushed four hundred and thirty three opponents, the orc, who has the longest undefeated streak in this competitions history, the orc, who is the reigning, defending, undefeated champion of Kenuk, the orc, is, GAAAARGANT!” The crowd erupted in cheers and roars as Gargant burst from the side entrance of the arena. Sending a punch, an elbow and then a knee at the air, Gargant let out a roar. His eyes locked with Meng’s, the two had history. Meng’s father was the goblin who got Mokrag and later Ghazkull, Goregutz’s sons, exiled from Kenuk. Gargant was their cousin. Meng wore only a loincloth as well, as was customary in the arena klomps, yet his bore the symbol of a dark green stag. Gargant turned to his uncle, Goregutz. The two exchanged nods. Meng was famed for his speed and agility, but Gargant was feared for his power and intensity. The goblin and the orc stared each other down, the crowd pierced the sky with their cheers. “BEGIN!”

 

Gargant sprinted forward, aiming to spear tackle Meng, who sidestepped and tripped the huge orc. Gargant was able to capitalize, grabbing Meng’s lower leg, sweeping him to the ground. Meng rolled back, getting to his feet, as did Gargant. The crowd fell silent, realizing what a grudge match this was. Circling each other, the two green skins felt a greater sense of bloodlust swell within them than ever before. Meng made the next move, running forward, trying to jump kick Gargant. The champion grabbed the goblins legs, with one arm, sending his free arm’s elbow down into Meng’s right knee. He then hurled Meng, throwing him across the sand. The crowd cheered, and Gargant sneered, knowing he had just eliminated Meng’s speed advantage.

 

Maia joined the orcs in the Pulvinus, sitting quietly. Everybody acknowledged her but were too taken with the klomp to make conversation. She smiled, seeing her life mate winning.

 

Meng made it to his feet, standing shakily. Gargant smiled, rolling his massive shoulders. Without hesitation, the champion of Kenuk broke into a sprint. With a wounded, possibly shattered knee, Meng was unable to dodge the vicious spear tackle that Gargant inflicted on him. Driving his shoulder and upper arm into Meng’s midsection, Gargant cracked four of the goblins ribs, tackling him to the ground. Roars of admiration sliced into the air from the crowd. Gargant made short work of Meng, and his undefeated streak retained. He looked to Goregutz, who rose from his seat.

 

“Your champion remains as such. Victor; Gargant!” The crowd burst into cheers, and after Goregutz gave Gargant the nod, he bent down, wrapping his arm around Meng’s throat. The goblin was too incapacitated to beg for mercy. Quickly and cleanly, Gargant broke Meng’s neck.

 

Issued command

 

“Your fight was impressive, my life mate.” Maia rubbed Gargants shoulders whilst he sat in a chair, tending to a cut on his hand he had suffered when Meng tripped him.

 

“I should have known better than to try to attack him with speed as a first maneuver.” Gargant shook his head, disappointed. Maia moved around in front of him, taking over the sewing of the gash on Gargants hand.

 

“I am sorry for trying to stop you from fighting.” Maia didn’t want to make eye contact with Gargant, but he gently placed his hand under her chin, tilting her head up to look in her eye.

 

“Each time you argue, each time you apologize, yet you do it again next time,” Gargant chuckled, “do not apologize, you have a right to voice your opinion.” Maia smiled, turning back to the cut across Gargants palm.

 

“When the cub is born, do you think it’ll be an orc or a feroc?” Maia asked, looking to her swollen stomach for but a moment. Gargant leaned back in his chair.

 

“I need a son to carry my name and legacy.” Those words filled Maia with worry, what if she bore a feroc? How would Gargant react? At that moment, Goregutz entered their home, the old chieftain’s grey war braid draped over his shoulder.

 

“Nephew, we need to talk. Apologies Maia.” Goregutz looked to Maia briefly but turned his attention to Gargant. Maia got up quickly, bowing her head in respect. Gargant rose, shaking the arm that held the wounded hand. “Come Gargant, walk with me.” Gargant smiled at Maia but left their home with Goregutz if not but a moment later. Goregutz clasped the hilt of his sheathed golok machete, nodding to an orc who passed by. The two walked through the streets of Kenuk.

 

“Yes uncle?” Goregutz sighed, looking at every home or building that they passed.

 

“The Undead menace grows in threat. I fear the frequency of attacks we are receiving by the walking bones, walking corpses and half pig half men creatures are no coincidence. They are coming, we need to be prepared.” Goregutz looked to the sky, it had gone a purpley red as the desert sun began to set.

 

“What would you have of me?” Gargant asked, stopping. Goregutz stopped also, turning to his nephew.

 

“You are the greatest warrior we have ever produced Gargant, I would have you lead.”

 

“Wha..”

 

“The people look to you as a leader already, you stand as such in all but name.”

 

“You honour me uncle…”

 

“I seek to honour only our ancestors by providing them with a suitable champion to defend against the greatest threat we have ever seen. The undead are coming, and with it, a sea of blood, plague and death.” The two kept walking, discussing Gargant’s performance in the klomp until they arrived at the large building laced with columns. It was the towns war room, where the elders gathered to discuss and plan in times of crisis.

 

“Ah, my chieftain. Oh, and my champion, hello.” One of the elders spoke, he looked as old as Kenuk itself.

 

“Yes Ratlug hello.” Goregutz was in an irritable mood, it was understandable, defending a city as large as Kenuk against the threat of an Undead invasion was stressful work. “We all know why we are here,” Goregutz sat in the throne like seat that sat at the head of the long dark wooden table with a map sprawled across it. A section appeared ancient, but most of it looked freshly drawn up. The chieftain folded his leg over the other, motioning to a chair with a piece of blue cloth draped over it. Gargant pulled it away from the table, sitting down with a grunt, “our way of life is being threatened. For too long we have been at peace, we have forgotten the ways of war and battle. Elders, we are too old to lead in frontal combat. Gargant, my nephew, our cities champion, is the fiercest warrior we have ever seen. He will lead us.” The elders broke out into a murmur, the ancient tradition would be broken if Gargant was set to lead. He was no descendent of a chieftain, so the fact that he was Kenuk’s champion was meaningless in terms of giving him command.

 

“By giving Gargant leadership you will be defiling our ancestors tradition.” An elder spoke up, his voice shaky with age. Gargant snarled.

 

“Without an orc who can rally the troops, there will be no tradition.” Gargant spoke, his voice rising, “With all due respect, none of you could raise the moral of your people, let alone keep them alive. If you wish to test me, so be it. Klomp me.” Gargant stood up, kicking his chair back, he got into a fist-fighting stance and all the elders fell silent.

 

“So it’s settled then,” Goregutz said, breaking the silent tension, slapping his hand on the table, “Gargant shall lead the orcs should the fight come to open combat. Now leave, I need to think.” All the elders rose from their seats, leaving the waroom. As Gargant turned to return home, Goregutz stopped him. “Not you, sit down.” Gargant did as he was told, sitting back down. “Mokrag and Ghazkull were exiled years ago for bullskah reasons, but it does not change the fact that I have no heir. I would have you lead after I am gone.” In Gargants mind, he was already walking home. “Are you listening, nephew?”

 

“Oh, yes. Heir, leading and…yeah.”

 

“You will become chieftain once I die or become unfit for the role. My sons hold higher claim than you and always will, yet they are not in the picture.” Gargant nodded. “Go home to your lifemate.”

 

The day the dead came

 

There was an eerie quietness in the early hours of the morning the next day. The air was still and the sun began to rise. It was dawn. Gargant layed on his bed that was laced with furs and pelts for cushioning. Maia was next to him, still fast asleep. Gargant had barely rested that night, his mind wandered. First he is set to lead the people, then Goregutz tells him he will become chieftain one day. It was too much information to fully process in one night. Maia rolled over, now facing Gargant.

 

“You are never an early riser Gargant, what is wrong?” Maia placed a hand on Gargant’s huge trap muscle. The champion sighed.

 

“Goregutz told me that upon a day, I would become the chieftain of Kenuk.” Maia smiled, moving closer to her lifemate.

 

“That is good news, you are destined for great things I know it.” Gargant’s head sunk down, his face broke out into a grimace. “This does not please you?”

 

“I live only for the arena, for blood and battle, honour and glory. Not slaving away worrying about people I have never met.” Gargant sprung up from the bed, sitting on the edge of his side. Maia grunted, sitting up as well.

 

“You live only for the arena hmm?” She stood up, Gargant followed, sighing.

 

“You know what I mea-…” A shriek of a feroc split through the streets of Kenuk, followed by low, beastly sounding groans. Gargant knew immediately what it meant. They were here. He raced into his house’s armory, grabbing his axe.

 

“What is happening Gargant?!” Maia clutched her stomach, the cub was growing restless.

 

“Stay in the house, block the doors and do not come out until I return.” Gargant had already began to leave when Maia stopped him.

 

“My life mate…be safe.” Gargant smiled, nodding.

 

“I have proven troublesome to defeat.” The two smiled at each other briefly, but Gargant had a job to do. As soon as he stepped out the threshold of his home, he was ambushed by three walking corpses. One of them reached out, their fingernails so long they were like claws. Dragging the nails across Gargant’s cheek, the corpse cried out in a sickly moan. Gargant returned the cry, yet his was a deafening roar. He grabbed the creatures arm, hacking it off with his axe. Gargant proceeded to club the corpse with its own arm until its skull cracked. The other two limped towards him. Snarling, the champion of Kenuk did what he did best, kill. Leaping into the air, he jump punched one of the corpses. His fist collided flushly, causing the corpses neck to snap back and break. The last foul beast still standing gave no thought towards his fallen comrades, extending his arms out, limping towards Gargant. Gargant hopped forward, decapitating the creature in a single blow. He looked around him, hordes of undead filth had swarmed the city in drones. Gargant knew he needed to find Goregutz, but as if on cue, he did. Turning his head to the chain of dunes that rose just off the Cliffside, he saw his uncle, his chieftain, Goregutz, crucified. He had been disemboweled, yet was still breathing.

 

Gargant could not aid him, there was not enough time. He charged through Kenuk’s densely populated streets, slaying all the Undead that stood before him and helping what little orcs he could. Gargant made it to the war room, several dead bodies of orcs layed gutted on the floor in front of the door. The half pig half man creatures lurked in front of the door, banging on it feebly. Gargant cracked his neck, hurling his axe into the back of the skull of one of the pig men. Running forward, he grabbed another, tearing it off the door, lifting it high above his head, then ripping it in two. An elbow to the jaw, a punch to the temple and a choke slam floored the remaining pig men. Gargant tried to open the door, but it was locked. He began slamming his fist against it, shouting.

 

“Open the door, NOW!”

 

“No…” The voices of the elders were muffled, yet clear enough. His eyes widening, Gargant kicked the door, causing it to fly off its hinges. He saw the elders cowering, holding knives and tools to defend themselves.

 

“WHAT THE SKAH ARE YOU DOING?!” Gargant looked over his ‘elders’, snarling. He grabbed his axe, ripping it from the pig man.

 

“Is it over?” One of the elders said, fear ringing through his voice.

 

“NO, ITS NOT. YOU WOULD ALL COWER HERE?! I SHOULD KILL YOU ALL!”

 

“No! We need you to defend us, if we can slip away to the barracks just over the hilltops, we can ride the rhinos out of here.” Gargant struck the elder down with his axe, growling.

 

“YOU ALL WOULD RUN, WHILE YOUR PEOPLE DIE?” Gargant shook his head, “YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF LIFE, YOU LOW SKAHS!” As Gargant turned to walk out, an elder grabbed his shoulder.

 

“You cant leave, we need you, my champion.” Without a second thought, in one swift motion, Gargant spun round, decapitating the elder.

 

“Try to stop me.” Gargant charged out of the war room back onto the streets. The first thing that hit him wasn’t more Undead, it was smoke, filling his lungs. Kenuk was burning. His thoughts turned to one person, Maia. He took to the side streets, trying to avoid conflict. He no longer thought of only himself, if he had, he would have charged head on into the biggest group of the Undead. But Maia would not survive without him, so Gargant took the path of stealth. When Gargant arrived at his home, he saw the door had been smashed open. With no hesitation, Gargant ran into the house, seeing Maia in a corner, clutching a new born cub.

 

“It’s an orc.” Maia tried to smile, her crotch and hands covered in blood. The cub was silent, sleeping. Gargant moved over slowly, crouching before them. He looked at his son, his expression proud. Gargant then looked to his lifemate, they rested their foreheads together. The tender moment soon faded when Gargant snapped back to reality.

 

“We need to move, now. Kenuk is burning, the Undead are taking the city, we need to get out.”

 

“But, where will we go?”

 

“I do not know, there is talk of a new land and ships that will take people there. We have no choice Maia, Kenuk will be ashes by the next sun rise.” Maia nodded, and Gargant helped her to her feet. “Stay close, be silent.” Clutching his axe, Gargant left his house he had lived in for years. Clutching her newborn son, Maia did the same. The couple moved through the side streets and alleys, drones of Undead filth passing by. The orc, feroc, and cub remained un noticed. Now on the outskirts of the city, they reached the Hilltop dunes. The dunes seemed steeper than ever before, the cries of death and cracking of burning buildings leapt at their ears from behind them. At the top of the dunes, they took one final look at Kenuk. It was almost leveled already. It was a horrific sight.

 

“How could this happen?” Maia asked, her eyes teary. An arrowhead appeared from her throat. Another, from her chest, two from her stomach. Maia collapsed to the ground, landing on her back, revealing several walking skeletons with bows and arrows.

 

“NO!” Gargant shouted, charging the skeletons. An arrow hit him in the shoulder, but he literally shrugged it off, continuing to charge. Dropkicking one of the skeletons, he made the creatures bones shatter and the figure crumbled to the ground. Getting to his feet, he punched another in the rips, rendering them to dust, making the next skeleton crumble to the ground. He layed waste to the other five before running back over to his fallen life mate.

 

“Maia, you…” Gargant was lost for words, he grabbed her hand. In her other arm she still held her cub, which was seemingly unscathed.

 

“I am sorry my life mate.” Maia said, her voice weak.

 

“For what?”

 

“For not being as strong as you.” Gargant shook his head.

 

“I bet you could take me in a klomp.” The two laughed, but Maia then coughed, blood splurting from her mouth.

 

“You need to go Gargant. Take our son, and go.”

 

“I can take you with me, I-…”

 

“No, I’ll only slow you down. Go, please.” Life began to fade from her. Gargant looked up, seeing a horde of Undead coming up the Hilltop, hundreds.

 

“No…” Maia’s eyes turned glassy, her breathing stopped. “No…Maia…” She was dead. Gargant wanted to get up and charge the Undead barreling towards him, but he couldn’t. The champion of a now fallen city grabbed his son, and ran in the opposite direction. He arrived at the barracks, grabbing his rhino, Mamoth. His face screwed up, conflicting emotions visible. Gargant rode off from his home. Kenuk had fallen.

 

 

The war for Elysium

 

 

As Aegis fell and Kenuk with it, so did the civilization Braduk had founded generations before hand. Yet those of his bloodline still lived. Mokrag and Ghazkull, born and raised in Kenuk, exiled for crimes they did not commit were alive and well and were living in the new land of Asulon. The two brothers had been serving in the Ugluk clan under Wargoth Pok. Mokrag had ascended to second in command, yet his family, referred to as the Braddukk Ugluks consisting of himself, his younger brother Ghazkull, his life mate Kita and his son Zagstruk, were common grunts and received no gratitude or lorals for their achievements. The Braddukk Ugluks were fed up with being shunned, and left the Ugluk clan, rebirthing the Braduks as a clan. Mokrag was their chieftain. Asulon fell soon after the clan was born.

 

As much a brother

 

The waves of a rough sea attacked the side of the vessel, the ill made ship looked as if a mild wind could separate its foundations. Upon the ship, sat in a corner placed in the lowest deck of the ship was the Braduks. They had split from the clan of Ugluk, seeking to rebirth their ancient culture. In theory, it was magnificent, yet putting it into practice was deemed much more troublesome as the timing in which it took place was bad. Asulon had fallen but a few days after the Braduk clan had left the Uzg to get situated. Missing the orc ship, the Braduks had no choice but to kill their way onto a ship for the poor or tardy that missed their races ships. They had managed to clear out an entire deck for themselves and their rhinos whom lay dormant fast asleep.

 

Their chieftain, Mokrag sat resting his mace across his lap. The orc was already well over his hundredth year but looked as if he could wrestle a Scaddernakk to the ground with only his fists. He was large, dark green hide spread across his body with scars to match. Perched on his shoulder was his pet and best friend, a jet black raven the size of a house dog named Kudo. Next to Mokrag was his lifemate, Kita, whose arm was intertwined with his. She was a light skinned feroc, long flowing brown hair draped over her shoulders. Their bond was unbreakable.

 

Across from them stood Ghazkull, Mokrags young brother. The term behemoth would be putting it lightly. The giant stood at almost 13ft, dwarfing even most Ologs. He was sharpening his axe, the tattoos on his arm stretched as his biceps tensed with each movement. Sat cross-legged but a bit away was the son of Mokrag and Kita, Zagstruk. He resembled his mother, sharp facial features and light green skin. He was in his early thirties and had proven himself lethal with a bow yet a slight coward.

 

“What’ya reckon of the new land?” Ghazkull asked, small sparks spraying off his axe as it gradually grew sharper.

“Whatever it is, that isn’t where we are going. I spoke with the captain, everybody’s making a stop first.” Responded Mokrag, his voice was deep, and it seemed as if every syllable that dropped from his mouth had purpose when he spoke. The Braduks all sneered, being at sea wasn’t something they were particularly fond of.

 

“We shouldn’t have left the Ugluks, look at us, what if Pok decides to bring his wrath upon us?” It was Zagstruk who spoke, worry in his voice. His father, Mokrag stood up, clenching his fist. Kita grabbed his arm, pulling him back down.

 

“We made up half of the Ugluk numbers, Pok, and his boy pet Nux should consider themselves lucky that we didn’t slaughter them when he left. But, Pok is as much a brother to me as Ghazkull. He is honourable, and with that honour, will understand our choice.” Mokrag was visibly annoyed, but Kita grabbed his chin, tilting his head towards her.

 

“It is true though, we are bare, and Pok has the ear of the entire Uzg.” Kita’s words only added to Zagstruks worry, but her lifemate would not waver. Mokrag put a hand on her leg, easing every bodies nerves as he spoke.

 

“To move forward, we must first be set back.”

 

Welcome to Elysium

 

“That’ll be two hundred mina-..” Ghazkull lodged his axe into the skull of the ship captain as he asked for the payment. The Braduks walked their rhinos through the decks and then off the ship. Putting their belongings in satchels strapped to the thick bodies of the rhinos, the mounted the huge beasts. Mokrag sat on his rhino, it was as old as him. Kita climbed up, sitting behind Mokrag, Kudo squarked, perching on the rhino’s head. Zagstruk mounted his rhino, a young grey creature but it was already christened with several scars. Ghazkull’s rhino however was a horrific sight. A mountain of a beast, as black as night, it was the size of a house. The convoy marched off the boat and sighed in relief as hit natural land. They were docked with the all the race ships, all except the ship of the orcs.

 

“You there.” Mokrag pointed to an orc, his grey skin and burgundy hair stood out in the crowd he was in. Looking around, Mokrag saw he was the only other orc in the area. The grey orc walked over, a small one handed axe hung from his belt.

 

“Yes?” He asked, Mokrag leaned forward on his rhino.

 

“Where are all the orcs residing?”

 

“I don’t know, I’m not sure this island has a desert or anything that we could live in.” All the Braduks grunted simultaneously.

 

“What is the island?” Ghazkull asked, looking down from his rhino.

 

“It’s called Elysium.” Mokrag shrugged.

 

“Thank you for the help.” The chieftain said, pulling on the reigns of his rhino. The grey orc nodded, and they went their separate ways. Kita pointed out a path heading east, and having nowhere else to go the Braduk convoy trotted down the freshly made gravel and dirt road. Time went on, and a settlement appeared over the horizon.

 

“What’ya think brother?” Ghazkull asked, squinting at the stone walls off in the distance.

 

“We aren’t making friends with strangers Ghazkull, but for them to build a settlement the land has to be habitable. Game to hunt, water, they could have a substantial amount of that. We avoid contact, for now. Come on.” The Braduks kicked their rhinos, increasing their pace. Nearing the settlement, they noticed a group of people out the front of its gates. A small group of armed men along with a man in builders clothes holding a piece of paper riddled with sketches and another man in a blue vest with gold trim, blue pants and black boots also with gold trim. His hair was long and brown, as was his beard. There was a large forest crested next to the village, that’s where the Braduks were headed. As they passed, Mokrag locked eyes with the man in blue. Mokrag chuckled, and they rode deep into the forest.

 

“Heres good.” Mokrag moved off his rhino, as did the rest of the clan. They took out some cloth and wood to make tents and Kita got started on a fire. Darkness quickly descended over Elysium. The Braduks sat around the fire, the night was quiet.

 

“Where will we go?” Zagstruk spoke, holding his hands over the fire. Everybody waited for Mokrag’s response.

 

“Honestly I do not know. We will probably have to wait this out, see if we can rejoin the orcs once we leave this place, this, Elysium.”

 

“What about that town we passed?” Ghazkull asked. “We could take that couldn’t we?”

 

“We haven’t eaten, we haven’t slept, we are illequipped and in foreign territory. Simply taking the town wouldn’t be easy.” Mokrag’s gaze did not waver from the fire.

 

“What do you suggest we do then?” It was Kita who questioned this time, yet after he words were uttered everything fell silent. Finally, Mokrag spoke.

 

“We kill them all.”

 

Step one

 

Plains, plains of dust. Rocks lay scattered across the ground. The air, thick and dense. The sky, so black it was as if the void had unleashed across the stars. Trapped, unable to move. Rhinos of all sorts running across the plains, wolves, bulls and boars chasing them. Rhinos being attacked, killed. Still trapped, cant help. A shadow approaches. Still trapped. The shadow has tusks, its come to kill. Cant move, shadow drawing closer.

 

“SKAH OFF!” Mokrag yelled out, springing up from his make shift bed. Kita lazily rose, but jumped to her feet seeing Mokrag poised and ready for combat.

 

“Mokrag, what is wrong?” Panting, Mokrag looked around him.

 

“Nothing…go back to sleep Kita.”

 

“Everything alright?!” Ghazkull called out.

 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” Kita responded. She placed her hand on Mokrags shoulder. “Settle, what happened?”

 

“A dream…but it felt real. It kind of felt like…a vision.” Sweat trickled down Morkag’s forehead.

 

“What happened in the dream?”

 

“I was-…”

 

“WHO THE SKAH ARE YOU!” Ghazkull shouted out. Mokrag grabbed his mace, and he and Kita sprung from their tent. As they emerged, they saw Ghazkull axe in hand and Zagstruk poised, arrow drawn. A figure emerged from the shadows.

 

“My name is Evark.” He was a lanky elf, scraggly platinum hair wearing an old white undershirt several sizes too large. His navy pants were ripped at the knees and his low black leather shoes were scuffed and dirty. With no hesitation, Mokrag shoved past Ghazkull, marching up to Evark, smashing the hilt of his mace against the elf’s temple. Evark hit the ground, holding up his hands. “WAIT!”

 

“Speak elf, and pray to whatever skahed up gods you believe in I find your words of worth.” Mokrag held his mace over his head, ready to strike it down.

 

“That settlement you passed by, its called Telarith. Some human who fancies himself as the next big King runs it, his name is Telarin. He saw you all and is planning on killing you.” Mokrag laughed, as did the rest of the Braduks.

 

“Good. My swinging arm is going a bit flabby, I could use the practice.” Mokrag began to swing his mace down, and Evark cried out.

 

“I CAN GET YOU INSIDE!” Mokrag shrugged, going to strike his mace down again. “YOU CAN TAKE FOOD!” Mokrag halted.

 

“Can we now?” The chieftain asked, dropping his battle pose. Evark gulped and nodded. “And how would we do that, Evark?” Evark began to get up, but Mokrag kicked him back down. “Speak.”

 

“Their walls, they are not fully built. There is a portion of the wall on the side of the city that is not complete, you could enter there. There isn’t a post for guards so there would be no trouble. The stock room is not too far from where you would enter.” Evark panted, his hands covering his head.

 

“You will take us there, now or you will be roasted an eaten, am I clear?” Mokrag grabbed Evarks neck, lifting him up so he could stand. Dawn had broken during the altercation. “Ghazkull, you’re with me.” Kita and Zagstruk grunted.

 

“Are we supposed to stand here with arm up ass?” Zagstruk asked, Kudo gliding to the ground next to him.

 

“Skah yes that’s what you will be doing. We will return, with food. This step one Zagstruk.” Mokrag responded angrily.

 

“Step one to what?”

 

“To glory.” Mokrag said, staring into the fire. Kita walked over to her lifemate, sliding her arms around his waist.

 

“Pork, Mokrag. I want pork.” The two laughed, and Evark, Mokrag and Ghazkull headed out through the forest. The crumpling of leaves was the only sound that broke the utter and haunting silence as the trio made their way to Telarith. No words were spoken, and Evark looked at the two large orcs with fear in his eyes. The arrived at the break of the forest, where it met the walls of the small town.

 

“Go further that way,” Evark said, pointing to the right, “there is a slip in the wall, you can’t miss it. The stock room has a red door and a broken window; it will be across the street from you once you’re in. Don’t make a move until I have everybody distracted.” Mokrag slapped Ghazkull on the back, who began walking off. Mokrag stared down at Evark.

 

“Do not think I owe you anything, or that we are friends.” He said. Evark smiled awkwardly and tried to laugh but the nervousness coming from his voice was obvious.

 

“The thought is well removed.” Mokrag had already left.

 

He met up with Ghazkull who was by the wall. Indeed, it was easy to climb. With barely any effort the two orcs entered the city, two houses standing before them. There was a gap inbetween, they moved through it, peaking down the path towards the gate. Evark was standing already in the city. A crowd surrounded him. Telarin was there, he looked unimpressed and as if he was pretending he had something else to do. Suddenly, fire sprung from Evark’s hands. The crowd marveled at the sight.

 

“Holy skah…” Ghazkull said, his jaw dropping.

 

“Skah’haz a fire mage.” Mokrag chuckled shrugging. He looked forward, seeing a small hut with a red door and a half repaired window. “That’s our target.” Mokrag and Ghazkull hurried across the street the stock room. The door was unlocked, conviently. The first thing they noticed was how long the room was. It looked small from the outside but was three times in length once you entered. Mokrag picked a few stray bags and motioned for Ghazkull to do the same. “Food, supplies, materials, whatever you think we need. Take it, quickly.” And take they did. Five bags each, loaded with food and supplies, weapons, some pieces of light armour. Mokrag had taken all of their metal supply for some reason, Ghazkull couldn’t care less. He wanted to get out of the town as soon as possible, he had to piss. They moved back across the street unoticed and climbed back over the wall.

 

“Should we wait for the elf?” Ghazkull asked.

 

“Nah.” They began to walk back to the camp when the smelled smoke.

 

“You smell that, Mok?” Mokrag nodded, looking back to Telarith. Smoke was bellowing from the town, the cracking of fire and screaming of citizens floated into the air as well.

 

“Smells like crops…HAH! He’s burning their food supply.” Mokrag and Ghazkull laughed, heading back to their camp. “We are going to be eating well tonight brother.”

 

Already upon us

 

Soaring, flying. Traveling through the blackness. Wings, talons, raven. Flying through the sky, dark and full of shadows. Bellow, large blue rhino, killing smaller rhinos. Smaller rhinos are family. Attack the blue rhino, fighting. Blue rhino leaves. Raven lands, looking at rhinos that are family. The rhinos are leaving. Many disappear, others drop dead. Some go with the bulls. Rhinos gone…

 

“NO!” Mokrag woke up, already gripping his mace. He looked around, panting. Another vision. He looked over to Kita who was still fast asleep. Mokrag dropped his mace, lying back down. He began to catch his breath, but his mind was racing. What were these visions, was Kahn trying to tell him something? Mokrag had more questions than answers and this frustrated him. He had to get some air. Patting Kita on the arm, he got up and left the tent, walking around their makeshift camp.

 

“Excuse me..” A voice came from the shadows, and a hand fell on Mokrags shoulder from behind. He turned ground, grabbing the hand, squeezing it. He grabbed the person’s throat, pulling him into better light. It was Evark. “At ease! I come with news!” Grunting, Mokrag let go.

 

“Sneak up on me again, and I don’t care what you come with, you will die.” Mokrag leaned against a tree. “What do you want?”

 

“Perhaps gratitude for helping you?” Evark said, nervously smiling. Mokrag did not return the grin, he got off the tree, and grabbed Evarks collar, lifing him up into the air so that they were face to face.

 

“You overstep.” Mokrag’s face was stern and cold. Evark held up his hands.

 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” His voice quivered. Mokrag dropped him. “but I have some bad news. Telarin has sent scouts into the forest. They know you are here and will be coming for you.” Mokrag shrugged.

 

“That all?”

 

“Well you aren’t going to face them are you? You’ll die!”

 

“You’ve never seen Braduks at work, have you. We are some of the finest killers in the War Nation, and we will have the element of surprise.”

 

“But wait, wait. There are villages up north, if you take them over you will have a command hub, food, more equipment and maybe even recruit some orcs along the way. You can’t stay out in the open, the winter months are coming, or are already upon us in a slight sense.” Evark said, exhaling. Mokrag nodded.

 

“You make good points.” He began walking off, Evark followed.

 

“So when do we leave?” Mokrag chuckled, turning around.

 

“Dumb skah.” He right hooked Evark in the jaw, the velocity of the strike knocked him out. Shaking his head, Mokrag returned to the camp. He woke up his clan, and whistled, Kudo flying in from the trees and landing on his shoulder. “We are heading north. The people of Telarith want us dead, we are ill prepared. We take over some settlements by surprise, and then we go to war. Sound good?” The Braduks were easily convinced. They began packing up, loading their stock onto the rhinos. Mokrag mounted his rhino, Kita behind him and Kudo perched next to them. Zagstruk and Ghazkull mounted their rhinos. Just as they were about to ride off, a voice came from the trees. An orc voice.

 

“Hello brothers…and sister.” The grey orc from before stepped forward. Next to him was a dark green orc wearing bones all across his body. “Sorry for maybe startling you but, we want to join you guys.” Mokrag got off of his rhino, walking over to them.

 

“What are your names?” He asked.

 

“Durakai,” The grey orc said, “And this is Grommash.” Grommash nodded to Mokrag.

 

“What makes you want to join us?”

 

“We have been watching you’s, we like the way you do things and we want to learn from you. We are young, but capable.” Durakai said. Mokrag nodded. Silently, he took a flint and steel from the bag on Zagstruks rhino, making a fire on the ground amongst some leaves. He put the flint back in the bag, and moved over to his rhino. Mokrag pulled out an ancient looking thin metal pipe with a ‘B’ on the end of it. It was a brand. Grommash raised an eyebrow.

 

“What are you doing?” Mokrag placed the brand in the fire, moving back over to the two young orcs. He removed his gauntlet, showing a B branded into his inner forearm. The other Braduks did the same. Durakai and Grommash both nodded.

 

“My name is Mokrag. That’s Ghazkull, my lifemate Kita, my son Zagstruk, and this bird here, shes Kudo.” Mokrag walked over to the fire, taking the brand out. The B was a reddish orange, heated up. “Hold out your dominant arm.” Durakai and Grommash did as they were told. Mokrag stamped the B into their arms for a few seconds, leaving a clear brand. “You may not be blood, but you are now family. We protect our family, and they protect us. This clan comes before everything else in your life. If you are unable to serve it because you are ill, or wounded, we will help you, because we are family.” Mokrag walked back to his rhino, taking out a canteen of water. He poured it over the brand, steam sizziling into the air. He put them back into the bag, closing it. The chieftain moved back into the fire, picking up two burning leaves. He gave one to Durakai and one to Grommash. “You will burn in the afterlife like the leaf burns in your hands if you betray your clan.” Durakai and Grommash nodded. “Very good.” Mokrag patted both orcs on the arm. “Durakai, you’ll ride with Ghazkull. Grommash, with Zagstruk. Mount up.”

 

The Braduks rode north, light snow falling around them. The chill did not waver the orcs, they were a hardy people. They arrived at a small settlement sat next to a mountain with the sea on its other side. It would do perfect. They dismounted their rhinos, tieing them to some trees nearby. The Braduks armoured up, and Mokrag stood before them with the settlement at his back.

 

“This is step two. We raid this village and kill its inhabitants, their sacrifice will enable us to get a foothold on this island. I want this quick and quiet people, so Kudo, you’re staying with the rhinos,” Kudo squarked as If she was disappointed, “three groups of two. Kita, you’re wih me. Ghazkull and Zagstruk, you sweep the western side, Durakai and Grommash, the east. Kita and I will move souther to northern, as in, the middle. I want this house-by-house, you kill everybody on sight. Understood?” His clan nodded. Mokrag nodded back. He signaled for them to move out, and they did so silently.

 

Mokrag and Kita walked over to the two guards standing at the open gate leading into the city. They looked scrawny, and adolescent.

 

“Who goes there?” The slightly taller one asked. Mokrag said nothing, and forearmed the ‘guard’ in the throat, flooring him. Kita sprung forward on the other one, decapitating him with her scimitar. Mokrag lifted his mace in the air and brought it down, crushing the skull of the guard. The lifemates nodded and moved inside the settlement. There was two rows of housing, three houses each. An open road down the middle lead to a large stone building. Most of the settlement itself was farmland, it would come in handy. Mokrag and Kita moved down the road, it was wide and with little cover.

 

“Who are you people?” A child asked. He stood on the road next to the orc and feroc. When they turned and he saw they were greenskins, he began to cry. Mokrag lept forward, putting his hand over the childs mouth. He wrapped his arm around the childs neck and snapped it. As the child slumped to the ground, Mokrg and Kita stood still for a moment. They soon snapped out of it, and Mokrag nodded to the large building.

 

The door was locked, so the lifemates moved around to the side where the windows were. Almost silently, Mokrag lifted the window as high as it would go, and climbed into the building. Kita quickly followed. The room was all but empty albeit a green carpet with gold embroidery leading to a set of double wooden doors. They moved to the door, and heard a faint voice on the other side. Mokrag counted to three under his breath, and kicked the door open. He and Kita moved in, and saw a dwarf sitting behind a desk. He was bald but had a flowing orange beard. He stood at around five feet, and was incredibly obese.

 

“Oh, shite. You got me.” The dwarf held up his hands, laughing. A mug of ale sat on his desk. Mokrag cocked an eyebrow. “Seems the green skins have come to take my land.” Mokrag moved forward, as Kita follwed Mokrag shook his head. She waited by the door.

 

“You run this place?”

 

“Aye, I do. We got all breeds, well besides yours. My kin of course, humans, elves, we even have an exotic Kharajyr woman. I suppose you lot be raiding us, hey.” The dwarf said, his red nose twitched ever so slightly.

 

“Yes.” Mokrag responded, moving over to the desk. The dwarf stood up, pushing his chair back. He moved around the desk, standing infront of Mokrag.

 

“Alrighty then, name your terms of surrender and lets call it a day, hmm?” Mokrag grunted. A silence fell over them for a few seconds, but without warning Mokrag sprung forward, grabbing the dwarf’s throat. He slammed the manlet onto the table, choking him.

 

“There are none I would expect a dwarf to honour.” Mokrag brought his mace up, and struck it down into the dwarf’s face, killing him. Mokrag walked towards the exit, putting his arm around Kita. “I would see what our orcs have done, come.” The two walked back into the cold. The snow had picked up. The remainder of the clan had made quick work of the settlement, and were piling up the bodies. Durakai however was missing. As if on cue Durakai called out.

 

“Mokrag! I found something!” Everybody made their way over to Durakai, who was standing at the foot of the mountain. A small entrance lay at its foot, leading into a cave system. “Come inside, you’ll want to see this.” Durakai was carrying a torch, leading the clan into the cave. It was split into hallways and spaces that were split into rooms. It was as if it was a fortress in a mountain. Mokrag laughed.

 

“I think we found our home.” The Braduks cheered. “We have no time for rest. Grommash, Durakai, contiue clearing out the bodies, raid the homes of anything of worth. Zagstruk, bring in the rhinos, unload their stock. Ghazkull, travel across the island, get word out that the Braduks are recruiting. I want loyal orcs, capable orcs. Kita, explore the cave system, report back on what you find. Leave me, I have planning to do.” Mokrag wove his clan away, who hurried out to do their jobs. Mokrag whistled, and Kudo quickly flew into the cave, perching on his shoulder. Mokrag stroked his bearded chin. “Step three begins now.”

 

Green tide

 

A year and many months had passed since the Braduk clan had moved north on the island of Elysium. Their numbers had swelled beyond belief, ranking in the hundreds. Mokrag had become a powerful and feared warlord, and his clan renowned across the land. Mokrag had led his clan to conquer the entire northern coast of Elysium, and their mountain fortress had been fully built, with training quarters, barracks, rooms, a mess hall, a throne room, a mine and various other multi-purpose rooms scattered across its large grounds. The rhinos had been breeding, and almost every orc in the clan had one. Mokrag ordered a small fleet to be built for the clan, consisting of three ships. Mokrag sat on his throne, wearing the bulky and behemothly large metal armour that was dubbed ‘the walking fortress’ with Kudo perched on the arm of his throne when Ghazkull and Kita entered.

 

“Brother, we have a bit of a problem.” Ghazkull said, nodding to his older sibling. Mokrag nodded back, and nodded to his life mate, Kita.

 

“Elaborate.” The warlord sat layed back into the throne, a fur cape draped over his shoulders.

 

“Durakai, Grommash and the grunt Murtz have engaged Telarith against your orders.” Ghazkull leaned back against the long table sprawled before the throne. Mokrag grunted, visibly displeased. Murtz was a grunt brought into the fold by Durakai, who had ascended to clan Underboss, the rank that served underneath the War Machine, or second in command under the Warlord. Durakai and Grommash had been mentoring Murtz, who had proven to be a valiant warrior. Mokrag stood up from his throne, rolling his shoulders.

 

“I will go to their aid.” Mokrag grabbed his mace which was leaned against the side of the throne. Kudo squarked, gliding up to Mokrags armoured shoulder.

 

“I will prepare the boys.” Ghazkull said.

 

“You will do no such thing. I will go, alone. We do not yet truly know how strong their fighting force is. We may still be undermaned. If I send Kudo back here, you rally the clan and come, clear?” Ghazkull nodded, turning and walking off. Kita sighed, walking over to Mokrag.

 

“You don’t have to do this.” She told him, almost a plea in her voice.

 

“They are my orcs, I will protect them until I die.”

 

“Yes, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

 

“What is a chieftain if he would not fight for his brothers? If he would not put them before himself in all things? If we go down, I would have it just be us. Not everybody. The Braduks will reach glory, one way or another my lifemate.” Mokrag grabbed Kita’s wrist, “Kahn has blessed me with good fortune, and I have returned the blessing with rivers of blood. He will not curse me.” Kita chuckled quietly.

 

“Is it stupid to say that I’m starting to believe in your gods?” She responded, looking at the ground. Mokrag smiled.

 

“It would make up for the time you tried to klomp me, before we were mates, because you thought I was disrespecting Krug.” The two looked at eachother, smiling for a moment. Mokrag nodded to Kita, but turned away, looking at the goblins guarding the throne room. “Prepare my rhino, move.” The two goblins hurried off following their orders. The two lifemates left the throne room, walking up the steps to exit the mountain fort. The construction of the fleet stood before them.

 

“Its…amazing.” Kita said. “You have really brought us through an age of despair.” The goblins brought Mokrags rhino around and he mounted up.

 

“Like I said, I’m blessed with good fortune.” Mokrag burst into a hysterical laugh, riding off. Kita tried to laugh, but was too worried for humour.

 

Mokrag rode through the forests, his fur cape flinging from side to side behind him. His rhino charged through the trees, he had one destination. Telarith. One goal in mind. Murder. The journey was much quicker than normal, his rhino had held a sprinting pace the whole trip. Kudo flew overhead, squarking as her huge wings flapped the air. Breaking through the tree line, Mokrag was immidietly taken back by the fight before him. The Braduks were dug in in a trench maybe fifty metres from Telarith, engaged in an archery battle. Mokrag dismounted his rhino, muttering something audible. His rhino charged back for the Braduk base. Kudo flew high into the air as if to patrol the skies and Mokrag lumbered over to the trench. Arrows hit him, but they simply bounced off his armour. Mokrag arrived at the trench where Durakai, Grommash and Murtz were, hopping down.

 

“Are you all dumb skahs?” He shouted. Durakai grunted, an arrow had pierced his arm.

 

“Sorry boss, we were making collections and got side tracked, they ambushed us. We gave a chase and lost track of where we were going. They led us right into a trap.” Durakai said, holding his arm. “We cant last much longer here.” Mokrag looked over his orcs. Durakai could only lift one arm, Grommash was missing an eye and Murtz had been arrowed in the stomach.

 

“Get out of here.” Mokrag said.

 

“What…?”

 

“I’ll hold it down. You lot go.” Mokrag cracked his neck. The three orcs shook their head. Durakai walked towards his chieftain.

 

“You know we can’t do that, boss.” Grommash and Murtz nodded.

 

“Yeah, we stand with you.” Grommash said. Mokrag pulled the arrow out of Murtz’s stomach, wraping a bit of cloth around his midsectin to halt the bleeding. He gave Grommash and makeshift eyepatch and Durakai a scrappy bit of bandage for his arm. Noise came from Telarith, the sound of a gate opening and then a series of marching footsteps.

 

“It’s time.” Mokrag said. The four Braduks climbed out of the trench, standing in a line. They snarled and grunted in defiance, as the soldiers of Telarith moved into their battle formations.

 

“Mokrag! You and your dogs lay down your weapons, now!” A soldier in elaborate armour called out.

 

“COME AND GET THEM YOU SKAHS!” Mokrag responded, roaring. The Braduks charged, as did the men of Telarith. The Braduks sweeped away the front line, but were pushed back further away from the city, towards a narrow path that on one side was a long steep drop to a river bellow. Mokrag grabbed one of the soldiers by the throat, lifting him in the air. He held him in the way of a sword that was swung at him. Throwing the man, Mokrag lept forward, bashing his axe into the skull of another soldier. The warlord spun, smacking his armoured fist into the jaw of a young ill trained warrior. As he tore through Telarith’s battlements, he looked for his clan brothers. Durakai was engaged with several soldiers but was holding his own, even with only one arm. Grommash was on the ground getting kicked by three men, when Murtz ran over to help him. The grunt left his flank un-protected; a soldier of Telarith took advantage of this. Murtz was decapitated and never saw the blow that did it.

 

Mokrag did not care, if the grunt wasn’t strong enough to survive so be it. An elf in light armour came running for Mokrag, swinging his sword at him. Mokrag blocked it with his armoured gauntlet, pushing the sword away. As the elf was off-balance, Mokrag swung with all his force, sending his mace into the pointy-eared fellows skull. The elf’s head, for lack of better term, exploded. It was then that Mokrag took a moment to look around. No more enemies stood before him. He looked behind him, Durakai stood over several bodies and Grommash had just finished slaying the last soldier. They had taken out the platoon. The Braduks began to laugh, and Mokrag signaled for a regroup.

 

“Is that it?” Durakai asked. The gates of Telarith gushed open, and a small army of men poured out. Roughly a hundred soldiers, the rest of the town’s army took to formations.

 

“Evidently not. Hold your ground, let them charge.” Durakai and Grommash nodded to their chieftain, and they prepared for another round. Mokrag squinted at the soldiers before them. He noted their leader, clad in leather armour hanging at the back of the battlements. Telarin. Mokrag had his target.

 

“Charge!” Telarin called out, and the ground began to thump with the footsteps of those of Telarith. The Braduks roared, and just as they clashed Mokrag swung his mace at the soldier running at him, killing him upon the impact. He continued to do so, swinging his mace, which crushed the skulls of all before him, tearing through the battle lines aiming to get to Telarin himself. Five soldiers engaged him, pushing the chieftain closer to the drop down to the river. Mokrag slayed two of them, but three jumped onto his huge armour plates. Not allowing humans to take his glory, Mokrag jumped back, off the edge, plummeting down bellow taking the three soldiers with him. Durakai and Grommash watched in horror. The forces of Telartih’s numbers had been thinned, but they were still large in quantity. Durakai and Grommash were quickly subdued, and held at sword point. They were put on their knees, and awaited execution. Telarin walked over to them laughing.

 

“Shut the skah up pinskin!” Durakai shouted, snarling.

 

“Defiant till the end, are we?” Telarin laughed more.

 

“You didn’t even fight you coward!” Grommash said.

 

“I didn’t need to. Now, tell me where your clan is located, and I wont give you a slow death.” Durakai spat at Telarin. The human who fancied himself a king, shook his head. “You people are all dead anyway, without your precious warlord to lead you, you’ll just wind up killing eachother. It’d be a mercy.”

 

“OI!” Everybody turned around. Durakai and Grommash grinned. Mokrag stood, covered in blood, mace in hand. “I aint that easy to kill.” Telarins eyes went wide with fear, and Mokrag charged dead straight for him. Durakai headbutted the soldier next to him, grabbing his sword and stabbing it into his throat. Grommash disarmed the soldier next to him and lopped his head off. They began battling the left over soldiers around them. Mokrag ripped through the men that got in his way, finally reaching Telarin. The human leader quivered in fear dropping his sword and holding up his hands.

 

“Ok! I surrender!” Mokrag looked around, Durakai and Grommash had slaughtered the rest of Telarith’s army. Telarin dropped to his knees. “Please!” Mokrag lined up his mace, grunting.

 

“A green tide will wash over your city. It is a shame you wont be alive to see it.”

 

“NO-..” Mokrag swung, crushing Telarin’s skull with one blow. The warlord laughed, as did his clansmen. Mokrag whistled, and Kudo flew down from the sky.

 

“Go Kudo, send for Ghazkull.” Kudo sqwarked and flew off. Mokrag held up his axe, roaring. Soon, the horde of Braduks arrived, mounted on their rhinos. They had brought Mokrag, Durakai and Grommash’s rhinos. The orcs mounted up, and Mokrag trotted along the front lines. “GO MY BROTHERS! SACK THE CITY AND LET IT BE KNOWN TO ALL, WHO WE ARE! WAAAGH!”

 

The Rhinos demolished the cities walls; Telarith was burnt to the ground. All that was left was the crucified and mangled body of Telarin standing in the middle of where the settlement used to be.

 

We will remind them

 

Two years later. The salty air of the sea drifted inland, filling Mokrag’s nose. He stood before his fleet, with Kudo on his shoulder. It was magnificent. The Braduks were all behind him, feasting. They had just conquered the last dwarven fortress to the west, Kal’Naurn. The Braduks now controlled the entire north, the eastern coast and the western front of Elysium. They had their hands in almost every other settlement, allowing them to run aslong as they gave ten percent of all their earnings to the Braduks. Kita approached her life mate, intwining her arm with his.

 

“Mokrag, have you made a choice yet?” She asked. The descendents had decided to move on from Elysium, continuing their journey. This left Mokrag with a tough decision, stay at Elysium, where he practically runs the island, or go and rejoin the orcs. Mokrag nodded to Kita, turning around, gaining his orcs attention.

 

“My brothers and sisters! I trust you are enjoying yourselves,” All the Braduks laughed, nodding, “but it is time to be serious for a moment. I was given the choice: stay here, in Elysium, and we could soon conquer the whole island, or go with our brothers and sisters in the Warnation, rejoining them. Well, even a child could see that if everybody is leaving this island, we have nothing left to rule. The choice is made. We will be following the races.” Mokrag looked over his clan, they each nodded in agreement. “Feast! For tomorrow we take to the seas!” Cheers erupted from the Braduks.

 

Dawn broke the next day, and the Braduks were already boarded. Mokrag took command of the largest ship, the warship, named ‘Tuska’. It held the bulk of the clan, fitted with multiple decks. Many for sleeping quarters for the orcs, most for battle, armed with cannons. Ghazkull took command of the ship that held the rhinos, named ‘Blakhorn’. Durakai was issued with the command of the stock ship that carried almost all of the clan’s supplies, named ‘Da zea wurm’.  Mokrag sat in the command room on Tuska, behind a desk. A map lay sprawled in front of him. Kita sat next to him, and Kudo was on the table, asleep.

 

“Are you sure about this Mokrag?” She asked him. The warlord nodded.

 

“Yes. We will remind them who we are, and in the process, reclaim fallen glories.”

 

 

 

 

[the 1 bow 1112]

The Ugluk war/The Braduk rebellion

 

 

The island of Kalos, the last stop before the new land. The Warnation had settled in Kalos’ desert, Mokrag and his horde had rejoined them. A rebellion had broken out amongst the orcs soon after. Wargoth’s Pok of the Ugluks and Moksha of the Lurs had deemed the new Rex Sharku of clan Gorkil a tyrant, and swore to end his reign. Sharku had made an alliance with the Azog clan, meaning both the Warnation and the Rebels were evenly matched. The Braduks remained neutral until the Rebels began to lose the war. Believing Pok was still a brother, Mokrag commanded his clan to aid him in the rebellion. In a series of skirmishes, the majority of the Braduk clan were slayed. The Lur’s gave up the cause and rejoined the Warnation, leaving the scarce Ugluks and Braduks to fend for themselves. Mokrag and Pok agreed to have their last stand at the Braduk fort of Ronata in the furthest corner of the desert. The Braduks prepped, waiting for their allies to arrive, and then later, their enemies.

 

High and dry

 

The merciless desert sun crisped the air with heat, stepping on the sand bare foot would leave you with blisters. Mokrag sat with Kita next to the fountain in the middle of the fort. The chieftains most trusted servant, a goblin by the name of Larty ‘wun eye’ came running over to the fountain.

 

“Yes Larty?” Mokrag asked, sitting up slightly straighter.

 

“Boss, I got bad news, real bad news.”

 

“Speak it.” Larty looked at Kita then back to Mokrag. Mokrag nodded, and Larty cleared his throat.

 

“Its Pok…they’re not coming.” The fortress fell silent. All the Braduks emerged, walking over to the fountain, listening. “The Ugluks have betrayed us, they’ve sold us out and are working with Sharku.” Silence. Mokrags notorious purple eyes shut, and the old chieftain entered deep thought. He suddenly sprung up from the fountain.

 

“All of you, out, now.” The Braduks looked on in shock. Age had calmed Mokrag. No longer was he a ruthless conquerer. He was now an old orc who cared about his family. Kita stood up, grabbing her lifemates arm.

 

“Mokrag…don’t.” She said.

 

“Kita, please. Make this easy.” Kita gripped his arm tightly but fell silent. Mokrag looked to his people. “We are a damaged clan, we do not have the numbers to fend off the entire Warnation. I command all of you out, go to the oasis at the edge of the desert where we have an underground bunker. You will all be safe there.” Ghazkull stepped forward, looking at his older brother solemly.

 

“And what will you do?” He asked.

 

“I’ll take as many of them down with me as I can.” Mokrag put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “If I fall, you are to lead.” Mokrag looked past Ghazkull to Ghazkulls lifemate, Raurna. She was a short feroc but was viscious in a fight. Her and Ghazkull had already had several cubs. The oldest, Thurak, was nine years old. “Take good care of him Raurna.” Mokrag laughed, and Raurna smiled, nodding to him.

 

“I will.” She said.

 

“Alright, go, before they get here.” Larty stepped forward.

 

“Boss, I have served you since I was cub. Without you I will have no purpose. Please, let me stay.” Mokrag thought for a moment but nodded.

 

“There has never been a more loyal servant.” Larty moved next to Mokrag. Everybody said their goodbyes, Kita was last to get to Mokrag.

 

“Come with us, please.”

 

“You know that I can not.”

 

“You have a habit of going up against un winnable odds, Mokrag.” Kita said, trying to smile.

 

“And each time I am victorious. Remember, I am blessed.” The lifemates both laughed, and rested their foreheads against the others.

 

“Kill as many as you can, my lifemate.” Kita left with the others, and the Braduk clan rode for the oasis, all but their chieftain and his most loyal servant.

 

“Larty, get the gate, you keep it shut until my command, understood?” Larty ran for the gate room, calling out over his shoulder as he ran.

 

“Yes boss!” The goblin grabbed the crank tightly, looking out into the endless desert stretching before the fort. Green was on the horizon. Mokrag exhaled, moving to his room. He opened a chest, his armour “the walking fortess” lay inside of it. The chieftain pulled out its massive plates, strapping them on. Mokrag moved over to his fireplace, his mace resting on pins nailed into the wall. Above it was a crown with rhino horns around the rim. He grabbed it and slit it over his grey Mohawk. Next, his mace. It was as old as him, and he grabbed it, the grip custom made for his hand shape. The sound of a horn pierced the air. It was time. Leaving his home, his stepped onto the sand. Each footstep emitted a thud, his heavy armour leaving visibly prints behind him. Mokrag stopped a little ways from the gate, looking at the horde before him. The Gorkils, mounted on their boars were up front, the Lurs riding their wolves were scattered amongst the middle aswell as the Azogs who were on foot. The Ugluks were all the way in the back, most on their bulls. Rex Sharku trotted forward.

 

“It is valiant that you face us, Mokrag!” Sharku called out. “I know you sent you’re clan off.”

 

“HAVE YOU TOUCHED THEM?!” Mokrag shouted back.

 

“No, but we will hunt them soon enough. Open the gate, I want to talk to you.”

 

“Ill talk, with my mace in your skull!” Mokrag snarled. The Braduk chieftain looked to Larty and nodded. The gate was cranked open. “Come on, see if you can take me out!” The horde of the warnation began to charge, but Sharku held up his arm.

 

“Stop!” The orcs listened to their Rex. Sharku dismounted his boar, and walked into the fort, axe in hand. Mokrag prepared for combat. “At ease. I have an offer.” Mokrag’s face was unamused. Sharku put his axe on his back, and moved face to face with him. “Pok, not too many people like him. Myself included. There is no need for bloodshed here today. You see Pok instigated this whole rebellion, so, he needs to die. I will give you command of the Ugluk clan, and you Braduks can become Ugluks and take control. Think of what you could accomplish.” Mokrag looked Sharku dead in the eye.

 

“Fight me, or get off my land.” Sharku grunted, turning and walking off. He got back to his boar, climbing onto it and signaled for the horde to turn around. The orcs groaned, they longed for blood. There would be none on this day.

 

“You’ve doomed yourself Mokrag. You’ve doomed your clan.” And with that, the orcs of the Warnation rode off.

 

“Larty, get my rhino, and yours. We need to move.” Larty nodded, running to the rhino pen. It was empty besides their rhinos, and he grabbed their reigns and pulled them over. With no hesitation, Mokrag mounted up and rode off. Larty followed. The duo arrived at the oasis, making their way to the entrace of the bunker. It was covered by leaves. Mokrag entered with Larty at his side. The Braduks were sitting around, but looked in shock as they saw them enter. Kita sprung up, running and hugging Mokrag, yet his arms remained stiff at his side. Kita let go, stepping back.

 

“Mokrag, what happened?” She asked. Mokrag looked over the Braduks, pain in his voice.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Bitter enemies

 

Rex Sharku was assassinated a mere day after the altercation at fort Ronata. His killer has yet to be found. With the Warnation Rexless, the rebellion quickly diminished and the Braduks were brought back into Uzg, functioning as per normal.

 

It was unusually calm in the desert. Mokrag lay asleep in his house with Kita next to him. They slept in, which was out of character. The sun had risen to its highest peak as Raurna and Ghazkull burst into Mokrag’s home, sweating.

 

“Mokrag we need your help!” Raurna cried out. “Muzzmog has been taken!” Muzzmog was Raurna and Ghazkull’s youngest cub, barely a year old. Mokrag sat up, rubbing his eyes. The chieftain grunted, supporting himself with his arms.

 

“Calm yourself Raurna, how was he taken?” He asked.

 

“I was gathering cactus green just beyong the fort when they passed by. A group of orcs, they took my cub Mokrag. I managed to kill one but they ran off before I could get to him.” Raurna was visibly distraught. Ghazkull patted her on the back.

 

“What clan?” Mokrag asked.

 

“No clan brother, Raurna, tell him what their leader looked like.” Ghazkull nodded to Raurna.

 

“His skin was as dark as a shadow, and half his face had been flayed down to the bone.” Mokrag’s face went blank, then hard and angry.

 

“Kahrzen..” Mokag growled. He got from his bed, shaking Kita so she would wake up. “Kita, up. We have work to do. Ghazkull, go get one of the hounds.” Kita got up and got dressed, as did Mokrag. “Raurna, do you have anything that belonged to the orcs? Weapons, blood samples, cloth even?” Raurna nodded, pulling out a piece of wrapped up cloth. Unwravelling it, she revealed an ear.

 

“I took this from the orc I killed, after I broke his neck, I ripped his ear off just before they took the body away.” Mokrag grinned.

 

“Perfect.” It had been many years, centuries even, since Mokrag last saw Kahrzen. It was time for a reunion.

 

Mokrag, Kita, Ghazkull, Raurna, Zagstruk and Durakai walked outside the fort, the rest of the Braduks looking on. Mokrag whistled for the hound, which padded over to him. The chieftain bent down, allowing the hound to smell the ear. The beast growled lowly, moving off in an eastern direction from the fort. Ghazkull stayed next to hound, holding the ear. Durakai and Zagstruk walked behind him, next Kita and Raurna. Mokrag walked at the back, deep in thought.

 

“Whos Kahrzen?” Raurna asked Kita.

 

“Many years ago, even before I met him, Mokrag was enslaved by humans. They held him at a camp with other orcs. One of the orcs there was Karhzen. The orcs looked to Mokrag as a leader, and desperately wanted to break free. Mokrag decided to rebel against the slavers. The night before it was going to happen, Kahrzen sold Mokrag and the orcs out for some money. The orcs were slaughtered, except for Mokrag, who was sentenced to rot in a cell.” Kita spoke, looking at the ground the whole time. Raurna was shocked.

 

“How was he freed?”

 

“Your lifemate was tracking him and found him. The two of them single handedly took out the slave camp. Mokrag got his hands on Kahrzen and well, that’s why his face was flayed like that. We all thought he was dead, but I guess not.” Mokrag heard the feroc’s conversation, and thought back to his time as a slave.

 

“Tomorrow then, we end this suffering.” Mokrag said. The orcs nodded in agreement. “Kahrzen, you will be my second in command, agreed?” Kahrzen grinned.

 

“I am honoured, Mokrag.”

 

“Good. We have suffered for too long under their whip. It is time to rise up. We will take out the guards that patrol the work zones, taking their weapons. Then we move throughout the camp.”

 

“I look forward to tomorrow Mokrag. Skah, I long for it.” Kahrzen laughed, and Mokrag nodded to him.

 

“Mokrag! The hounds got something!” Ghazkull called out. Raurna ran over. Mokrag made his way there, looking at the find. It was the entrance to a cave.

 

“Looks like we found his hide out. Durakai, light a torch.” Mokrag unhooked his mace. Durakai lit the torch, holding it past the threshold of the cave. It looked long and dark. “Weapons free orcs, stay alert.” Mokrag began to move into the cave, but Raurna moved infront of him. Mokrag chuckled and nodded. Raurna moved in first, leading the Braduks through the cave. Time passed slowly walking through the cave, and Mokrag once again found himself lost in the past.

 

“TRAITOR!” Mokrag called out, tied up, surrounded by the slavers who were slaughtering the orcs one by one. Karhzen stood next to the leader of the slavers camp, holding three bags of minas.

 

“I WILL HAVE YOU’RE SKAH’N HEAD!” Mokrag shouted, trying to break free of his shackles.

 

“No, you will die in a cell, scum. So you have to live with the guilt each day, knowing you lead these orcs to their demise.”

 

Raurna suddenly flung herself against the wall to the left. She looked back at Mokrag. The chieftain approached, moving in front of her. He looked around the corner. It was an opening into another cave system. A large room was before them. Five orcs sat around the room. Muzzmog was in the corner, they had found him. The cub was unconscious however, perhaps dead. Mokrag looked back at his orcs, nodding. Snarling, he charged in with his clan behind him. The orcs of Kahrzen were taken off guard, and were slaughtered quickly.

 

“Go Raurna, tend to your cub.” Mokrag said, pointing to Muzzmog. Raurna ran over to him, lifting him up.

 

“Is he ok?” Ghazkull asked, approaching her.

 

“Yes, he breathes. But he wont if he is not tended to soon.” Roars soared into the cave from another opening to the side. Ten orcs came running in, and after them, so did Karhzen. He and Mokrag locked eyes. Mokrag began to growl, so violently it struck fear into all of the orcs fighting the Braduks. Mokrag backhanded an orc charging him, walking towards Karhzen. The two enemies swung their weapons at the same time. Mace and sword collided and remained clashed together for a moment.

 

“Mokrag, it’s been a while.” Mokrag overpowered Karhzen, pushing him back.

 

“You don’t deserve to live you skah!” The chieftain lept forward, swinging his mace, Karhzen parried the blow, swinging a shot of his own. Mokrag parried. “I should have made sure you were dead!”

 

“Well you didn’t!” Karhzen dodged Mokrags swing, slicing a gash across his bicep. “Now look at me, you did this to my face, you monster!” Kahrzen shouted. Mokrag headbutted his enemy, bashing his mace into Karhzen’s rib cage, shattering a few of the bones.

 

“I’m a monster?! You betrayed your kin for money!” Mokrag swung again into Karhzens knee, causing the black orc to fall to the ground. As Mokrag prepared for the deathblow, an orc lept in the way and was killed instead. Two orcs helped Karhzen to his feet and he began to hobble off down the passage in which he had come.

 

“Retreat!” Karhzen shouted. His remaining orcs followed him, running off. Without a second thought, Mokrag gave chase. The Braduks hesistated but quickly followed their chieftain. Running down the dark passageway, Mokrag saw light coming from the right side. He came to an intersection and stopped, pacing back slightly. He looked to the right, an incline led to an exit from the cave system. To the left, Mokrag saw Karhzen and maybe fifty orcs waiting, looking around and at all the possible entrances. The orcs were well armed.

 

“You all need to go.” Mokrag said. Kita pushed past Zagstruk who was infront of her, and grabbed Mokrag’s shoulders.

 

“No, you are not doing this to me again. Not to us. You are coming with us.”

 

“I cant Kita, I cant. This will be the last time.” He said to her.

 

“You cant say that Mokrag.”

 

“I can. I wont be returning this time.” The Braduks fell deafly silent. “We cannot exit without being spotted, its too open and they have eyes on it. If we were to all make a run for it it would result in all of our deaths.” Ghazkull went to say something but Mokrag cut him off. “We can’t win in a fight. We are too few and under armed in comparison to them. Its either me, or all of us.” The Braduks wanted to argue with their chieftain but knew they couldnt. They each nodded. Mokrag moved to Ghazkull, putting his arm on his shoulder. Ghazkull did the same. “You are chieftain now. Put the clan and family first in absolutely everything. Keep them safe, keep the alive.” Ghazkull nodded. Mokrag moved to Raurna next, she was still clutching Muzzmog. “You will be the new clan mother. Look to Kita for guidance, but I believe in you.” Raurna smiled and nodded. Next, Durakai. “I remember when you were but a grunt. You are now a respected leader. I am glad I brought you in, you have done me proud.” Mokrag patted Durakai on the arm, and moved over to Zagstruk. “My son, I may not have shown it, but you have honoured me since the day you were born.” The two nodded to eachother. Mokrag moved lastly to Kita.

 

“Damn it Mokrag, you are too stubborn.” She said.

 

“Isnt that what drew you to me?” The lifemates smiled at eachother, realizing this was their final goodbye. At that moment, they dropped the formalities. They dropped the ‘tough act’ that orcs had, and embraced eachother. Kita was not a Braduk by blood, but had grown to love being apart of it. They rested their foreheads together, whispering to eachother. Mokrag moved away, looking around the corner. He looked back to his clan, his family. “Go.” They ran out, and paused at the top at the exit, looking back to Mokrag. He nodded. They ran off.

 

“Oi! There they are!” An orc called out. Mokrag turned, looking at the group before him. Karhzen stood in the middle surrounded by orcs. Tensing, Mokrag cracked his neck.

 

“WAAAAAAGH!” He roared out, charging the orcs of Kahrzen. He knocked the first orc before him over by striking him with his shoulder. Mokrag parried a swing and kicked that orc to the ground. Another ran forward and Mokrag crushed his skull with his mace. He parried another swing, punching the orc in the jaw, dislocating it. A blade sliced across Mokrags back, but almost unfazed, Mokrag turned, bashing his mace into the orc’s neck, breaking it. He dodged an axe swing, sending his mace into that orcs stomach. An orc flanked Mokrag, stabbing him in the hamstring from behind, another stabbed him in the stomach and a third stabbed him in the back. Mokrag slowly fell to his knees, staring at Karhzen, who slowly swaggered over.

 

“Look at you now.” Karhzen said.

 

“GRH. I should have ended you years ago.” Mokrag said, spitting blood into Karhzen’s face.

 

“Its too late for that Mokrag.” Karhzen brought his sword back and snapped it forward towards Mokrag’s neck, aiming to decapitate him. The black orc’s eyes widened as Mokrag grabbed the blade with his bare hands, ripping it from Karhzen’s grasp. Mokrag lopped the sword up into Karhzens groin. Karhzen roared out in pain.

 

“Did you hear that?” Raurna asked.

 

“Yes, Ghazkull, please, we need to go back.” Ghazkull nodded, and began sprinting back to the cave. They arrived back at the exit from which they had left, running down the incline. The ground was laced with bodies, all except Karhzens. Mokrag laid in the centre, covered in wounds, most notably one on his chest over his heart. Kita ran over to him, falling before his corpse. She rested her head against his lifeless body, openly crying. Ghazkull walked over, his eyes wet. Zagstruk sat on the ground, his head in his hands. Raurna held Muzzmog, teary eyed. Durakai stood, leaing on his axe with his hand over his mouth. Ghazkull sighed, running his hand through his hair.

 

“Durakai, go back home. Get some boys and bring some rhinos, let’s get him out of here. Raurna go to. Get Muzzmog some help.” They nodded and headed off. Ghazkull crouched next to Kita, placing an arm on her shoulder. “Ah brother, you never knew when to stop. You are the greatest orc I have ever known.”

 

No common ground

 

The nighttime desert air was still. All the orcs of the Warnation gathered in the centre of the goi. All the orcs had their heads bowed, paying their respects. A large pyre of wood lay in the centre of the crowd, stacked several stories high. Resting on the top was Mokrag, with his mace in his grasp and the Braduk flag draped over his body. Every orc knew who he was and acknowledged the greatness he achieved in his life. The Braduks stood in the front rows, all solem. The Goj of the Warnation, Mogroka’Gorkil chanted words, yet no Braduk payed attention. The words Mokrag would have wanted to hear were not them. Ghazkull spoke, muttering in hushed tones.

 

“As I walk through the valley of death, I will fear nothing, for I am immortal. I will seek nothing, for I am tenacious. I will not stop, for I am unyielding.” Ghazkull said, speaking in Ot’pezak, the ancient Braduk tongue. All the orcs around them began to chant, and Mogroka through a torch onto the pyre, it lighting up. Ghazkull looked up, nodding to the Goj with respect. As the orcs cheered and chanted for Mokrag, his clan held their reserve. They remained silent, not making a show of their prayer. Ghazkull looked at the wood slowly crumble to ashes. He felt a sense of calmness, knowing that Mokrag was to ascend to Kahn. As the pyre crumbled and the orcs disipated, Ghazkull heard a voice from over his shoulder.

 

“Ghazkull.” It was Pok, with his second in command Nux behind him. Ghazkull, the behemoth and new chieftain of the Braduks turned, grunting. “Mokrag was like a bro-…”

 

“Leave, Pok.” Pok and Nux looked at eachother with shock then back to Ghazkull.

 

“What..?” Pok asked.

 

“He would have died for you. And you betrayed him. Leave us Pok.”

 

“Ghazkull…you don’t understand what I was doing. I-…” Ghazkull cut Pok off.

 

“I don’t care. Whatever brotherhood you and I once shared is gone.” Nux stepped infront of Pok, insulted.

 

“Why don’t you fight then, Braduk!” He shouted, raising his fists. Ghazkull didn’t grace Nux with his eye contact, and simply looked at the ashes before him.

 

“Not today boy. Tomorrow, next week, you name a time and I will skah you up. But not now.” Nux moved forward but Pok grabbed him, pulling him back. With no more words to exchange, Pok stormed off, beckoning Nux to follow him. Raurna walked over to Ghazkull.

 

“Whats the plan?” She asked. Ghazkull turned to her, his face snarling up.

 

“You get Durakai and Grommash to kidnap one of their orcs and you bring him to me.” Raurna nodded, heading off. The Braduks rode back to fort Ronata, and Ghazkull sat on the throne his brother once did, waiting, his anger swelling.

 

“Boss, we got one.” Durakai and Grommash dragged an orc into the throne room with a bag over his head. Ghazkull grunted, rising from the throne.

 

“Bring him round back.” The two orcs dragged the Ugluk into the torture chamber, where Ghazkull stood waiting. “Chain him up.” Durakai and Grommash did as commanded, chaining the orcs limbs to wooden beams so he stood in an ‘X’ stance. “Thankyou, now go boys.” Durakai and Grommash nodded, and walked out. The heavy door of the chamber slammed shut with a thud. The Ugluk panted, squirming in the shackles.

 

“Where am I?” He asked, trying to break free. Ghazkull ripped the bag off of his head, bending down to look into his eyes. The orc’s eyes went wide, Ghazkull could almost smell his fear. “You’re…you’re the Braduk chieftain, right?” Ghazkull nodded, pacing back and forth.

 

“Your name is?”

 

“Durak. Durak’Ugluk. Why am I here?” Ghazkull picked up a rusty spoon, walking over to Durak. The chieftain grabbed Durak’s throat, digging the spoon into his eye and sliding it. In one motion, Ghazkull scooped the orcs eye out. Durak cried out in pain. “AAHH! WHY!” Ghazkull swung an iron-gloved fist into Durak’s cheek, knocking several teeth loose.

 

“SHUT UP!” Ghazkull stood to his full height of 13ft, snarling. He walked over to a table, placing the spoon down. He looked at all the objects on the table, and picked up the sharpest knife there. Its edge was so fine, just touching it would leave a cut. Ghazkull marched back over to Durak, who was moaning in pain. Ghazkull grabbed the Ugluk’s wrist, slicing open his palm. He walked back over to the table, placing the knife down, then back to Durak. He peeled the skin back on Durak’s hands, tearing at his bones. He began pulling them out. Durak almost squealed due to the pain. Ghazkull rose once more, pacing back and forth.

 

“Why…are you…doing..this?” Frustrated for no obvious reason, Ghazkull walked over to the table, lifting it up and moving it closer to Durak so he only had to turn to change his equipment. He picked up an axe, it looked as if it had lived through the Clash of the Clans it was so old. Ghazkull swung his arm down, and then up into Durak’s groin, the axe slicing his orc parts in two. Durak vomited onto his chest, groaning. Ghazkull turned, dropping the axe onto the table and picked up a curved serrated blade designed for skinning animals. Turning back to Durak, he tilted his head down so the orcs scalp was visible, and began flaying it. Durak was in such pain he could only let out a silent scream. Ripping the flayed scalp off of Durak, the top of the orc’s skull was exposed. Tossing the skin to the side and dropping the knife, Ghazkull began punching Durak in the face. Over, and over, and over, and over again. Ghazkull’s knuckes were split open by the time he finally relented. After the flurry of punches, Durak’s jaw was dislocated, his nose was broken, three of his tusks were broken and the forth had split and was stabbing into his cheek.

 

“Goblins! Get in here!” Ghazkull called out. The door of the chamber was pushed open, and four goblins walked into the room. “Get him out of here, Take him to Pok’s house, as a gift.  Skah, put a ribbon on it if you like.”

 

Anthos

 

Their numbers dwindling, the Braduks abandoned their fleet in favour of boarding the orcish warship when the descendents sailed for new land, the land of Anthos. Yak of clan Lur was elected Rex, and the orcs had settled in the land’s large sprawling desert, their capital was based on a series of cliffs in a canyon, named San’Orka. Rex Yak summoned the entire Braduk clan to his Rex palace; Wargoth Pok’Ugluk and Wargoth Grool’Gorkil were by his side. Ghazkull stood infront of his clan, facing the Rex on his throne. This Rex appeared much more fearsome than Sharku. Yak had the stresses of age plastered on his face, black scar covered hide was sprawled across his skin. Ghazkull was unfazed, yet knew why he was there.

 

“Wargoth Ghazkull of clan Braduk, Wargoth Pok of clan Ugluk has reported that you or your clan butchered one of his orcs, is this true?” Yak said, squinting at Ghazkull.

 

“Yes.” Ghazkull wasn’t in the business of lying, or making excuses. Pok and Yak exchanged looks, and Yak held up his hand. The gates of the Rex palace shot open, and the Krughai’s special forces unit, the Keshig flooded the room. The Braduks drew their weapons, and Ghazkull snarled.

 

“You are making a mistake, Yak.” He said. Yak snarled back.

 

“It is you who made the mistake, kill them.” The Keshig lept forward, they were the most skilled fighters in the entire Warnation, yet they had never encountered the Braduks before. Ghazkull made his way over to them, knocking one out with his iron gloved fist, then swinging his axe into the chest of another.

 

“MOVE!” The chieftain shouted, and the Braduks pushed through the lines of the Keshig to the exit. The Rex Palace was on its own cliff, a bridge connecting it to the rest of the city. The Braduk’s rhinos were resting just across the bridge. As they crossed, Raurna looked up, not seeing Thurak, her and Ghazkull’s first born.

 

“Ghazkull! Where is Thurak?!” She called out as the rest of the clan mounted their rhinos. Ghazkull looked back, seeing Thurak get pulled away into the palace.

 

“We need to go Raurna.”

 

“NO! I am not letting him get taken like Muzzmog was!”

 

“Get on your skah’n rhino Raurna we don’t have a choice.” Raurna looked back, growling. She mounted her albino rhino and followed her clan. As they left San’Orka, everybody was wondering where they were going. “I figured we would move into the forest.” Ghazkull said.

 

“Wait!” Zagstruk yelled. He held up a large piece of paper, blue prints.

 

“Skah’s that?” Ghazkull asked.

 

“The plan for the War Uzg. Look.” Zagstruk said, walking over to his uncle. He pointed to a drawing on the paper that looked like an entrance to something underground. It led to San’Orka, and multiple parts labled ‘Catacombs’. “There are underground passages underneath the city deep in the canyon. They will never look there. We can use it as a hide out.” Ghazkull chuckled, patting his nephew on the cheek.

 

“Smart orc. Alright people, lets ride.”

 

The rhino is split

 

“NOW!” Ghazkull shouted, as he and Durakai rose from the ground. They had buried themselves in sand, invisible to anybody who passed by, exactly what the two were aiming for. An orcish cart was to be delievered to the Ugluks, carrying supplies. The Braduks wanted to intercept it, and to lower the risk of being discovered, Ghazkull only took his most trusted orc and second in command, Durakai. The pair stood, charging the cart. Ghazkull grabbed one of the orcs walking along side it by the throat, lifting him into the air and axing him in the skull. Durakai lept onto the drivers seat, drop kicking the orc holding the reigns for the boars pulling the wagon from it. Ghazkull swung his axe at another orc, who parried, but Ghazkulll overpowered him, pushing the orc’s arms above his head leaving his midsection exposed. The mammoth of an orc clubbed the orc in the stomach with his axe, leaving him to bleed out. As Ghazkull walked around the cart, he saw Durakai ripping the last orcs throat open.

 

“Skah’n pigs.” He said. Ghazkull laughed, walking to the back of the cart. He climbed up, kicking the locks off of the chests. He and Durakai grunted as they saw only weapons inside. “Look on the bright side boss, we have more variety to kill them with.” Ghazkull didn’t laugh this time. “I assume we are riding the cart back home?” Ghazkull shook his head.

 

“No, took risky. We brought bags for a reason.” Durakai grumbled, and the two loaded up as many weapons as they could carry. As they were about to head off, Ghazkull paused, looking at one of the corpses. He crouched next to it pulling out a knife.

 

“Boss?” Durakai asked, raising an eyebrow. Ghazkull began carving three letters onto the orcs chest.

 

“A message.” He said, walking off. Durakai shrugged and followed his chieftain. The letters were ‘P-O-K’.

 

Arriving back at the catacombs, Ghazkull looked over his people. All that were there presently were his loyal followers, a third of the clan. The Braduks were split in whom to follow. Ghazkull sought to uphold his brother’s wishes and keep his clan and people safe, and believed to do so that they needed to be free of the Warnation. However, Raurna had become almost a chieftess in the clan, wanting to take the fight to the Warnation and start a rebellion. This left the clan divided, yet most were with Raurna.

 

“Come, we have freshly forged weapons, taken from the grasp of the Ugluk scum.” Ghazkull said, dropping the bags on the ground. Kita walked over to Ghazkull, she appeared weary.

 

“Ghazkull, we do not need more weapons. We need food.” She said to him. It was true, the clan had gone weaks without a proper meal.

 

“This is all that they carried.” The chieftain responded. At that moment, shouting and laughter floated into the halls of the catacombs from one of its entrances. The Braduks drew their weapons, only to find that they were Raurna’s orcs.

 

“It seems your lifemate’s people fair better.” Kita said, grunting. Ghazkull did aswell. Raurna’s orcs had bags of food and were already tearing into them, each with bread or meat in their hands. Ghazkull approached them, Durakai following.

 

“Your, hunt, appears fruitful.” Ghazkull said, all the orcs laughing. “Make sure every person gets an equal portion.”

 

“BAH!” An orc yelled out. It was Malakai, Raurna’s second in command. “You people didn’t earn this, why should you get any.” Ghazkull stood stone faced.

 

“Each of you are still /my/ people. Divide what you have, I will not ask again.” There was a pause, but Malakai nodded. As the orcs began walking around giving the food to everyone, Ghazkull noticed Raurna was not there.

 

“Where is my life mate?” The chieftain asked.

 

“Raurna went into the city, told us not to wait up.” Ghazkull, Durakai and Kita all grimaced. She could easily be discovered.

 

“Skah’n hell.” Durakai muttered under his breath. Ghazkull sighed, walking off to his private quarters. Hours passed before he heard a voice from behind him.

 

“I hear you wish to command my orcs.” It was Raurna. She was a shadow of the feroc she once was. Her muscle mass had increased noticibly, and she wore the skull of an orc as a hat, her long hair bunned up into it. Ghazkull grunted, turning to her.

 

“They are still my orcs Raurna, or have you forgotten?” There was silence between the two. “Why were you in San’Orka?”

 

“I was getting information on Thurak, our son, or have you forgotten?” An angry bite was in her voice.

 

“I would never forget him. But you risk discovery venturing into the city. You risk all of our lives, you could comprimise the clan.”

 

“I was not seen Ghazkull. Except for an orc called Burguk. He’s an Ugluk grunt, yet he will never speak of our encounter.”

 

“Was it worth it?”

 

“In his dying breath, Burguk spoke of a cub, a captive held at the Ugluk fort in the west of the desert.”

 

“Tomorrow then, we leave. To get our son back.” Ghazkull nodded to Raurna. She grunted and walked off. Sighing, Ghazkull remembered a time where the bond between them was something other than hate.

 

Charging the bull

 

“I don’t see why I can’t take my orcs.” Raurna said, pacing back and forth. Ghazkull stood behind a table, Durakai and Zagstruk on either side of him.

 

“I take only the orcs I trust and know are the most capable. I will not risk Thurak’s life anymore then it has been already.” Ghazkull spoke plainly, seeming impatient. The three orcs stared down the feroc, who simply shrugged.

 

“Guess I don’t have a choice then do I.” Ghazkull nodded slowly.

 

“Ill go get Grommash.” Durakai said, leaving the room. Zagstruk perked up, saying;

 

“Ill get mother.” And he went to go find Kita. Ghazkull walked around the table, moving right up to his life mate.

 

“I am in command here Raurna. You obey me, and this works smoothly.” Ghazkull cracked his neck, grunting. Raurna turned around and walked off.

 

The small group consiting of Ghazkull, Raurna, Durakai, Grommash, Kita and Zagstruk gathered at the steps leading out of the catacombs. Some of the grunts brought their rhinos over, the distance to get to the Ugluk fort was too great to go on foot, and they needed to be quick. The green skins rode through the sands, kicking up a dust storm behind them, it wasn’t exactly discrete yet they remained unseen. The sky was shrouded by the night by the time the Braduks saw the Ugluk fort.

 

“Dismount here, we can’t be seen.” Ghazkull spoke, his voice hushed and quiet. His clan dismounted, drawing their weapons and moved silently towards the fort. The front gate was opened by a few feet at the bottom, but there was no telling what was really on the other side and such a direct entry could be disasteous Ghazkull thought. Two guards stood atop the forts walls, lazily patrolling back and forth. With and nod and a hand guesture, Ghazkull ordered Zagstruk to take them out. One, falls over the wall with an arrow in the skull. Two, slumps back, bleeding out with an arrow in his throat. The Braduks sprinted for the wall on the side, stopping silently to listen. No noise. Durakai walked over to the wall, pulling out a grappling hook from his satchel. The grey orc tossed it up, the metal taking hold against the sandstone wall. They waited again to see if its been noticed. No noise. Ghazkull grabbed the rope, pushing his foot against the wall and began climbing. Hopping over and landing on the ground with a thud, the chieftain looked around and there was not an orc in sight. Raurna came flying over the wall second, hitting the ground running and charging around the corner. She engaged a group of Ugluks.

 

“Skah…” Ghazkull said, running to give her aid. She had her short sword and had already cut down one of the Ugluks. Ghazkull hurled his axe at the second, it lodging in the orcs skull. The third swung at Raurna, who parried the blow and swifly maneuvered around him, slicing across his side. Ghazkull cro-hopped forward, punching the orc in forhead with his iron-gloved fist. The orc stumbled back, and then collapsed forward. Four more orcs came running around the corner, but were flanked by the other Braduks who had just landed in the fort. Kita jumped into the air, spearing one in the back of the head. Durakai and Grommash simultaneously swung their axes into the spines of the other two orcs, and as the last charged forward, Raurna lept at him, cleaving his head off. Another orc on the other side of the courtyard clutched a horn, preparing to blow into it when an arrow flew into his skull. Zagstruk stood poised with his bow raised. Ghazkull gave his nephew a nod.

 

“NUX!” The Braduks looked up seeing an orc by a steel door, fumbling for a set of keys. The door was laced with chains with a lock sealing them together. Raurna sprinted at him, jumping onto his back and sliced his throat, then pulled him to the ground. The rest of the clan joined her by the door. She stood up, clutching the keys. As she unlocked the door and swung it open revealing a small flight of stairs, Ghazkull grabbed her shoulder.

 

“Pause a moment Raurna.” He said, she turned, her blue eyes dim with anger.

 

“Every moment we wait is a moment Thurak is in danger. I will not let him suffer any longer.” The feroc and clanmother ran down the steps. The other Braduks followed her. At the bottom was a stone room, filled by Pok’s right hand Nux and five other orcs. Thurak lay in a rusty cell in the corner of the room. The Braduks charged forward, engaging the Ugluks. Raurna moved around the fighting, running for her cub with Ghazkull just behind.

 

“The door is locked!” Raurna cried out. Ghazkull shoved her to the side, grabbing the metal bars of the door. With three tugs, the giant pulled it of its hinges, throwing it at one of the Ugluks. Raurna hurried into the cell, grabbing Thurak. Another five Ugluks run in from a back room, over whelming the Braduks.

 

“Its not worth it, we are leaving!” Ghazkull shouted. The orcs of Braduk began moving up the steps but the Ugluks pressed them, not allowing them any space.

 

“Ill hold them off!” Zagstruk shouted, drawing his curved sword. He hurled himself down the steps, pushing all the Ugluks back. Nux lunged forward at him, axe in hand and the two engaged. Zagstruk parried Nux’s swing, punching the Ugluk in the jaw. He returned the swing, slicing acoss Nux’s stomach. One of the Ugluk orcs interfered, stabbing Zagstruk through the shoulder.

 

“ZAGSTRUK, NO!” Ghazkull called out. Nux swung his axe, cleaving Zagstruk’s head from his neck. Kita cried out, trying to run to her son. Grommash held her back. Ghazkull went to engage the Ugluks but Durakai grabbed him.

 

“Boss, we’ve got to go.” The two exchanged nods and ran out of the room.

 

“The gate, roll under it!” Ghazkull shouted. Raurna, clutching Thurak moved first, Kita second. Grommash followed. A squad of Ugluks came running from all directions, Ghazkull and Durakai fending them off. “Go, Ill cover you.” Ghazkull told Durakai. Reluctantly, the grey orc rolled under the gate. Punching the remaining Ugluk in the jaw with such velocity the orcs jaw shattered, Ghazkull looked up to see the rest of the Ugluk clan standing on the other side of the courtyard opposite the gate.

 

“GHAZKULL!” It was Pok. He stood infront of his clan and held up his war axe. The Ugluks charged. Snarling, Ghazkull rolled under the gate.

 

Set to path

 

“You alright boss?” Durakai asked. He along with Grommash stood before Ghazkull who was slumped in a chair in his quarters at the catacombs.

 

“Yeah, its just he was Mokrags son, and if I couldn’t protect him…I don’t know.” Grommash and Durakai exchanged glances before Durakai spoke up again.

 

“You have done nothing but protect us in these hard times. Zagstruk gave his life so we could live, something his father, your brother did also. Know that he died an honourable death.” Durakai’s words did take hold with Ghazkull, but he didn’t show it.

 

“I’m going to check on Thurak.” The chieftain rose from his seat, going to Raurna’s personal quarters. He still felt odd that she had her own room. Afterall, they were still lifemates, even if they weren’t on the same page. As he entered, he saw Thurak on Raurna’s bed with her on her knees sat next to him. The rest of the two lifemates cubs sat around the room, Gor Gork, Muzzmog and Nazdag. “How is he?” Ghazkull asked, walking forward. He patted Gor on the head as he passed him.

 

“I had one of the goblins look at him. He’ll live and should be up and moving in a day or two.” Raurna’s gaze was fixed on Thurak. Ghazkull looked around the room quizzically.

 

“Raurna, where is Gorthog?” Raurna looked up, glancing around the room. Gorthog was the youngest of the triplets that also included Gor and Gork. He was born a minute after Gor and Gork came out simultaneously. Raurna sprung to her feet, hurrying out of the room with Ghazkull following. They began searching the catacombs but to no avail. Ghazkull suggested that they go to the exit and they did so. A grunt leaned against the wall lazily. Raurna ran over to him.

 

“Have you seen Gorthog recently?” She asked him.

 

“Yes, ran outside not too long ago.” Ghazkull was not impressed.

 

“Were you planning on telling us? Its my son for skah’s sake.” Ghazkull snarled. The grunt held up his hands defensively.

 

“I figured it was ok because Malakai went after him.” The grunt responded, intimidated by Ghazkulls anger. The chieftain motioned for Raurna to follow and they ran up the steps to the exit of the catacombs. Reaching ground level, they stepped out into the blistering sun of the desert. They looked around worriedly but found nothing. As if on cue however, shouting and what sounded like fighting came from San’Orka. The two lifemates looked at eachother and reluctantly headed into the orc capital. Whilst they couldnt see them, they knew that the commotion was coming from the centre square of the city. Ghazkull and Raurna broke into a house, sneaking to its front where a dusty window looked onto the scene before it. A large group of orcs were gathered, Rex Yak and Pok included. Nux was to the side with Malakai on his knees and a knife at his throat. Gorthog layed on the ground, blood pouring from his head. Raurna sprung up away from the window, trying to run outside. Ghazkull grabbed her and pulled her back down.

 

“There is nothing we can do Raurna.” He whispered.

 

“That’s my best orc, and our son out there.” She responded, quietly yet sternly. Ghazkull sighed, looking back out through the window.

 

“There is nothing we can do.”

 

“This is the last time I ask, tell me, where are the Braduks located?” The Rex asked Malakai. Malakai spat blood into the Rex’s face, grunting.

 

“Ill die before I tell you!” The rex grunted also, motioning to Nux.

 

“Indeed you shall.” And with that, Nux sliced a knife across Malakai’s throat. The Braduk slumped onto his stomach, blood seeping into the sand around him.

 

“What of the cub?” Pok asked. Rex Yak’s face snarled up as he pondered for a moment.

 

“He bares no use and is a liability to keep alive. Kill him.” Pok sighed, a look of reluctance on his face. He brought his axe up, then down into Gorthog’s skull. Back inside the house, Raurna struggled to free herself but Ghazkulls grip was too strong.

 

“Raurna, we should go. Come on.”

 

Storming back into the catacombs, the two lifemates argued. Ghazkull tried to wave Raurna away but she would not leave him alone, following him back to his quarters.

 

“Enough Ghazkull, please. We have suffered under the thumb of the Warnation for too skah’n long!” She shouted.

 

“That is why I want to leave it, set up a society of our own.” The chieftain said. He kept his temper yet there was frustration in his voice.

 

“Do you really think that Pok, Nux and Yak will let us quietly slip away and not give a chase? Do you think that they will let it all just end, after everything we have done? We have shown them, Ghazkull, that even when we are stripped to nothing we are stronger than them. We have challenged the idea that the popularity contest that is orcish society is the only method to decide who is in power. Raurna was not shouting anymore, but spoke with a purpose.

 

“What would you have me do?” Ghazkull asked, speaking with sincerity.

 

“Allow us to strike the Warnation, even the score and avenge all that we have lost.” Ghazkull looked into Raurna’s eyes, and remembered all the orcs he knew who had died at the hands of the Warnation, and even before the conflict. He remembered his brother, Mokrag. But he also remembered when he and Raurna were on the same page.

 

“Braduks have always fought for the right to forge their own path,” Ghazkull said, sighing, “I will no longer stand in the way of yours.” They both exhaled. “Yet I cannot join you. I swore to Mokrag I would keep this clan safe and alive. There will be those who do not wish for the conflict or are unable to fight. I must lead them.” Raurna nodded to her lifemate.

 

“I respect that.” She said. Ghazkull nodded back. “At dawn then, we go our separate ways.”

 

“Before you go Raurna, there is one final thing I need of you and the orcs that follow you.”

 

Golden skull

 

The Braduks were lined up on a sand dune across from a large fortress, each armed. They were all on foot; the goblins of the clan looked after the rhinos. Ghazkull stood infront with Raurna by his side. Letting out a terrifying warcry, the Braduks threw their arms into the air, roaring. Charging down the dune, the Braduks moved to take the fort.

 

As the dust settled, Ghazkull and Raurna stood atop the wall of the fort, watching as their orcs burnt the bodies of those of the Warnation. Kita approached, spear in hand.

 

“Ghazkull, do you have a moment?” Kita asked the chieftain. He nodded and motioned for her to draw closer. She nodded to Raurna who returned it, and spoke again. “I would not join you in leaving the Warnation.” There was a silence, and Ghazkull sighed. “I am sorry, but they have taken everything from me. I want to avenge Zagstruk, and do Mokrag proud.” Ghazkull nodded and walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

 

“I am certain you will. We will not be the same without you, but your lethal spear thrust will be a great aid in the battle.” Ghazkull said. Kita smiled, nodding and walking off. Raurna turned to Ghazkull, saying;

 

“On that subject, Gork and Nazdag want to join the fight also.” Ghazkull looked at her, his eyes wide. Gork and Nazdag were ten and eleven years of age, but were fully-grown. “They want to honour Gorthog. Gor, and Thurak told me that they want to serve you. Muzzmog, well, he could probably kill Nux but hes too young for a war.” They both laughed, but Ghazkull nodded.

 

“I cannot argue with sons who wish to aid their mother.”

 

“Ghazkull!” It was Durakai, calling from outside the fort. He pointed to a sand dune on the horizon where an orc on a rhino prodded along. “A late comer!” As the orc progressed closer, Ghazkull looked him over.

 

“That orc was not with us…” Ghazkull said. The Braduks drew their weapons, and Raurna and Ghazkull moved outside of the fort. The orc was a few hundred metres away.

 

“Hes built like a fortress.” Raurna said. It was true; the orc was huge in height and build. Ghazkull squinted, the orcs bearded face had a familiar look to it. Arriving at the fort, the orc began to speak a tongue that none of the Braduks understood. None, except Ghazkull.

 

“There is only one orc I have ever known that could be that tall and not be an olog. Ghazkull…” The orc said. All the Braduks looked on wondering what he was saying. Ghazkull responded.

 

“Gargant…?” The orc atop the rhino nodded. They were speaking Ot’pezak, the ancient and long lost Braduk language. “Lower your weapons boys!” Ghazkull called out, speaking in blah so all the orcs could understand him. He nodded to Gargant who dismounted his rhino and followed Ghazkull into the fort. They walked into a large room at the back of the fort, which would soon become the clan house. “How are you alive cousin?” The chieftain asked. Gargant sighed, remembering the past.

 

“I made it out of Aegis alive, lived as a nomad in Asulon. I decided to rejoin the orcish society, when I saw all of you moving through the desert. When I spotted the rhinos, that’s when I knew.”

 

“What of our people, what of Kenuk?” Ghazkull asked, leaning against a table.

 

“The Undead…” Ghazkull’s head bowed.

 

“What of my father?”

 

“He fell to the Undead also. How did you make it out of Aegis?”

 

“Mokrag and I made our way onto a small fishing boat that was crossing the sea to Asulon.” Ghazkull’s head was still lowered.

 

“Mokrag made it out too? Where is he?” Gargant asked. Ghazkull looked up, shaking his head. “How did it happen?”

 

“He gave his life so that the clan could live.”

 

“Your brother always was a cinematic orc.” The two cousins laughed, but Ghazkull quickly drew serious.

 

“Gargant, I-…we are at war. Tomorrow most of the clan is going to battle against the orc Warnation, and the rest of us will be leaving it.” Gargant cocked an eyebrow.

 

“You say us, you do not fight?”

 

“No. My duty as chieftain is to keep the clan alive. I believe however that the Warnation can be defeated I truly do, but if it cannot, were I to join the fight the clan would crumble. This is where it gets difficult. My lifemate leads the orcs attacking the Warnation. She’s the toughest feroc I have ever seen, but I would see her well protected. All the orcs I consider capapable enough to do so are loyal to me and wont be joining her. I would have you by her side.” There was a silence, but Ghazkull broke it. “I know I could very well be sending you to your death, but you are the only orc that I trust that hasn’t already committed to a side.” Gargant didn’t even ponder.

 

“If I am to die, atleast I will die amongst brothers and sisters in glorious battle. A thing I was denied back in Kenuk. Your enemies are my enemies cousin. My enemies die.” Ghazkull felt a sense of relief as Gargant answered him. The two nodded and Ghazkull sent for the other commanding orcs of the Braduk clan, Raurna, Kita, Durakai and Grommash.

 

Defying ancient traditions

 

The sun had just appeared on the horizon when the Braduks were preparing to split one final time. Raurna’s army had amassed outside the fort, the clan was saying their goodbyes. Ghazkull walked over to Gork and Nazdag mounted on their rhinos, nodding to them. The chieftain moved over to Kita who was just beside them also on her rhino.

 

“I know you will bring honour to Mokrag and Zagstruk.” He said.

 

“Mokrag once told me that he wished he gave you more credit for the things you did for the clan. Ghazkull, I know you have and will continue to bring honour to him and this clan.” The two green skins smiled, and Ghazkull walked off. He saw Gargant doing some practice swings with his axe.

 

“Why are you on foot cousin?” Gargant looked up, rolling his shoulders.

 

“If I go down, my spirit will live on in my rhino. So you best not talk skah about me because I can still kick your arse even when I’m dead.” Ghazkull chuckled, patting his cousin on the shoulder.

 

“How will you know what your orders are?” Ghazkull said.

 

“Raurna will tell me.”

 

“But how…?”

 

“Last night at the feast she wanted to learn Ot’pezak. I taught her.” Gargant replied. Ghazkull was dumbfounded.

 

“So she learnt the whole language in a night?”

 

“Yep. Your lifemate is a quick learner. Too smart for an oaf like you.” Gargant said, laughing. Ghazkull went to punch him in the arm but Gargant caught it and twisted his arm behind his back. “You may be taller, but skah I’m still bigger.” Ghazkull shook his head, jokingly sighing. They nodded to eachother and Ghazkull approached Raurna, mounted on her albino rhino.

 

“Whats your plan?” Ghazkull asked her. She pulled on her rhino’s reigns, turning to him.

 

“Well only me, Kita, Gork and Nazdag are mounted because I want an easily mobilized force. We are going to need to be quick.” Ghazkull nodded. “My scouts say that the because of an outside war, the Krughai’s numbers are spent, so this could be easier than expected.” Ghazkull nodded again and there was a silence between the two. “Ghazkull, do you recall a time when the bond between us was something more than just hate?”

 

“I do.”

 

“I believe we have returned to that time.” She said. Ghazkull smiled, nodding.

 

“I agree. I look forward to one day greeting you again, when you are the first female Rex of the Warnation.” He said, placing a hand on her leg. She gently grabbed his wrist.

 

“And I look forward to the day we meet again, when you have re-established your ancestors society.” Raurna looked at the army before her, raising her short sword. They all cheered and began their march against the Warnation. Durakai walked over to Ghazkull, standing next to him.

 

“Do you think they can do it?” The grey orc asked.

 

“All they can do is try. Its all an orc can do.”

 

The Braduk’s lead by Raurna halted with the Warnation on the horizon. Raurna looked to a goblin standing beside her rhino.

 

“Sound the horn.” She said, tightening her grip on her rhino’s reigns. The deep womp of the horn pierced the air, its sound carrying through to San’Orka. Minutes later, the orcish force known as the ‘Krughai’ emerged, armoured and ready. They marched forward so that there was only a small gap between the two armies. Raurna let out a battle cry, kicking the sides of her rhino and charging forth. Her army followed, roaring into the sky. When the two sides clashed, Raurna immidietly teared through the front lines, stabbing and slicing orcs left and right. Kita was thinning out the bulk of the Krughai, piercing through the orcs armour with her spear. Gork and Nazdag rode around the sides, cutting down their flanks whilst Gargant, amongst the rest of the Braduk foot soldiers was shredding through their battlements. The Targoth of the Krughai came forth, clad in thick armour. Raurna rode past him, stabbing down into his face as she did. As the Targoth hit the ground, Raurna looked up, seeing the Krughai defeated. The Braduks regrouped.

 

“You have done it Raurna! You have conquered what was thought to be unconquerable!” Kita shouted. Raurna nodded with pride, looking at San’Orka on the horizon. She threw her arms up into the air, roaring.

 

“Prepare yourselves my brothers and sisters! For today, we are conquerors!” All the Braduks cheered as Raurna spoke, but their victory was short lived. A javelin appeared from out of nowhere, striking Raurna’s rhino in the head, killing it. The same happened to Kita’s rhino, and to the rhinos of Gork and Nazdag. Multiple horns blew in sucession, catching their attention. Off in the distance, west of San’Orka, a horde stood poised for battle. A third of it, mounted on bulls, another third, mounted on boars, the last, a green sea of orcs on foot. Raurna squinted, making out Pok and Nux at the front of the army. As they all regained their stance, Raurna barked commands. “Kita! Take a force and move about their flank. If we come at them from two sides we may yet still seize this skah’n day.” Kita nodded, motioning to a group of orcs to follow her. Gork and Nazdag stood beside their mother. Gargant joined them, cracking his neck and growling. The army of the Warnation charged the Braduks.

 

Fending off multiple orcs at once, Raurna looked over to where Kita’s force had went. They were ambushed by an entire troop of Lurs mounted on their vicious wolves. Kita was pinned down by one, which proceeded to sink its teeth down into the feroc’s neck and rip her torso apart from the rest of her body. Mounted on that wolf was Rex Yak. Raurna could not mourn, she needed to keep fighting. She looked at Gork and Nazdag, tied up in a fight with several orcs. She ran over to go help them.

 

Gargant looked around, laughing. He was easily the largest orc on the battlefield. An orc charged him, and Gargant swung once, knocking the orcs weapon from his hand. He swung again, lodging his axe into the orcs midsection. Another two ran at him. Gargant dodged the first’s swing, sweeping his leg with his arm causing the orc to fall on his back. The second orc swung down at Gargant, who moved out of the way so the sword hit the orc on the ground, killing him. Rising to his feet, Gargant tossed his axe to the side, lifting the orc up by the throat and crushing his windpipe. Looking to his left, the champion of Kenuk saw an orc mounted on a bull riding towards him. The orc was Pok. Gargant broke into a sprint, running at the Ugluk Wargoth. Leaping into the air, Gargant tackled Pok off the beast. As they both hit the sand, dust flew up into the air. When they got to their feet, a fistfight insued. Pok swung wildly at Gargant, who blocked each punch. Manouvering around him, Gargant elbowed Pok in the back and proceeded to kick him in the back of the knee. Stumbling forward, Pok turned, swinging again for Gargant, aiming for the jaw. Catching Pok’s arm, Gargant slung it over his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Pok’s midsection, hoisting him up into the air and slamming him to the ground. With Pok dazed, Gargant walked over to his axe, picking it up. As he approached the Ugluk Wargoth who was struggling to get to his feet, he felt the ground thud. Suddenly, Nux burst through, goring Gargant in the stomach with the horns of his bull. Dismounting, Nux ran over to Pok, aiding him to his feet.

 

“Come on, we have broken their forces, only a few remain!” Nux cried out, Pok rose, nodding.

 

Raurna, Gork and Nazdag were incircled; the orcs of the Warnation had created a circular shield wall around them. The three were slamming their weapons against the orc’s shields, killing very few. One of the orcs leapt forward from behind Nazdag, stabbing through his neck. Raurna turned to see her cub fall to the ground, dead. Stunned, she dropped her guard, a spear piercing through the back of her stomach. The feroc’s strength had left her, and she dropped to her knees. Gork began to run over to his mother, but an orc held out his sword, cleaving the cub’s head from his neck. Raurna cried out, but several orcs moved in to restrain her. The shield wall disapated, as Pok and Nux walked onto the scene. The rex quickly followed, still mounted on his Lur wolf.

 

“This is the feroc that seeks the fall of the Warnation?” The Rex asked.

 

“It is.” Pok responded, his voice plain. Pok nodded towards Raurna, geusturing to Nux who walked forward, sword in hand. “At your command, Yak.” Raurna looked at the bodies of her sons. She had failed, she had come so close but failed. The feroc, and clanmother closed her eyes, tilting her head up.

 

“Take her head.” Yak said. Nux drew his sword back. It felt like a lifetime, the time it took for him to complete his swing. Raurna awaited death. Nux swung at her neck. Raurna’s head rolled onto the ground and her body slumped back.

 

San’Orka: Rex Palace

 

“Its not over yet, Ghazkull still lives.”

 

“I know this, so, give me your council.”

 

“Kill them all, they rebelled against the Warnation.”

 

“No, the Braduks are a valuable ally. They have materials, skill and still have decent numbers even after the battle.”

 

“Do you think they would come to terms after what happened?”

 

“We can use him as a bargaining tool.”

 

“Can he form proper words?”

 

“He is yet to break them.”

 

“Then what good is he?”

 

“When Ghazkull and Mokrag where yet of Ugluk, they spoke of an ancient tongue that their ancestors used. I’d bet minas that hes using that tongue. For that to have happened, he must be related directly to Ghazkull. We don’t need to kill the Braduks. We use him as a bargaining tool-..”

 

“And blood oath them to the Warnation.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

The oath

 

“Is the clan almost ready?” Ghazkull asked, tending to his rhino. Durakai approached him, nodding.

 

“We should be ready to leave in the next hour.” There was a silence between the two, the only noise was an odd yet faint rumble in the ground. Durakai broke the silence, asking “Do you think they did it?” As Ghazkull looked up to answer his second in command, the serenity of the fort was shattered as multiple horns were blown, erupting across the desert.

 

“Boss! You’re gonna want to see this!” Grommash called out, looking through the shut gate of the fort. Durakai and Ghazkull briefly looked at eachother before heading over to see what was a matter. Looking past the wooden beams, Ghazkull saw the army of the Warnation marching towards the fort.

 

“Skah…” Thurak uttered, who was standing on top of the fort. He had grown a considerable amount. Ghazkull rubbed his head, grunting. There was no way he could win this fight.

 

“I am sorry brother. I have failed you.” The chieftain said under his breath. Drawing his axe, the giant snarled. “Ready your weapons, we make the stand here, now!” As the horde approached, The Rex mounted on his Lur wolf with Pok and Nux on their bulls on either side rode forward. Ghazkull didn’t hesitate. “Did you kill them?!” He shouted.

 

“Yes, all except one.” The Rex replied. He motioned to a group of orcs behind him. Five orcs escorted Gargant, who was in shackles with bandages around his stomach. Ghazkull couldn’t help but smile, in the back of his mind knowing Gargant could probably kill them before the rest of the army could stop him. “I have an offer for you Ghazkull. If-..’

 

“Send him in, then we talk.” Ghazkull called out. Rex Yak looked to Pok, who gave a nod. Grunting, Yak motioned for the orcs to free Gargant. As they did so, Gargant said something in Ot’pezak. Laughing, he spat on the ground next to him, walking into the fort. The gate cranked open then slammed shut behind him.

 

“Now that we have accommodated you, you will hear me out. I have returned one of your orcs in good faith-..” Ghazkull cut the Rex off again.

 

“You killed the rest of my skah’n clan, my lifemate! My sons!”

 

“They wanted to see the Uzg fall Ghazkull. We merely defended it.” Pok replied. All beef aside, Pok’s point was valid.

 

“So, you have two choices.” Yak said. “We will either finish the job and slaughter all of you, or, you will take a blood oath and bind your clan to the Warnation. Your Wargoth status will be returned and I will allow your clan to function. But you must swear to never raise arms against the Rexdom again, or you will be damned in the eyes of Krug.” Ghazkull sighed, looking back at his people. The chieftain desired blood, but he desired to honour his brother’s memory the most. The gate reeled up, and Ghazkull emerged from the fort, unarmed.

 

“Ok.”

 

 

War of the horn and claw

 

 

Years later, Ghazkull had passed of his age. Gargant went MIA, as did Durakai and Grommash. By Braduk law Thurak, the chieftain’s first-born son took on the role of chieftain. Thurak was possibly the most honourable orc to take on the mantle of chieftain in the Braduk clan, yet time was not on his side. The clan was disapating, with its elders gone and its bulk killed during the rebellion; Thurak was tasked with leading a dieing clan. A new clan had moved into Braduk territory, which was named “The holy lands”.  Refusing to leave, the clan known as Uyrgut was condemned to death by the new chieftain.

 

((Written by ilikefooddude))

 

Last honours

 

Thurak stood beside the few remaining members of his clan, judging their appearance in the hot desert
morning. They looked fit for the battle. 
There was Gor, his once disgraced brother, and the last known Orc remaining of the Howlur Durub Bloodline. He stood now proud beside Thurak, donned in heavy armour and a two handed sharpened steel blade; his weapon of choice. 
On his right stood Malog, an old friend. At first Thurak had looked him over as another grunt among the many of the once crowded clan, but as the family disbanded, and it seemed all the faithful were long gone from their now small group, he found Malog ready to stand beside him, ever faithful and ever
ready to fight side by side with his brothers of all but blood, just as he did now. His waraxe was polished clean, gleaming with a dangerous edge as the light from the blazing sun sent piercing reflections of light scattering off its razor like edges.
Behind Thurak stood the new blood of the clan, Zok. Thurak had brought him into the family himself by the ancient rituals he had learnt off by heart by his long gone father Ghazkull, and had watched as the grunt progressed in klomps against his brothers. Though he was no match for any of them yet, Thurak could see the potential in the way he swung that brutal axe of his, and spent many nights instructing on how to properly hold and swing it at the dummies in the training field.
Zok was ready for the fight today, Thurak knew. His weapon was polished and cleaned, just like Gor’s and Malog’s, and he held it with a lust in his hand, for this was his first battle, and it would be a glorious one.
Thurak strode forward after a few moments, motioning for the Orcs on the sideline to hold the count. As he paces towards the force of the Ghaktusk across the flattened plain, Thurak gained a hint of pity for them, though no more. Their force was comprised of Uyrgut, the chieftain of the Ghaktusks, and a
large Orc wielding a battered steel sword and donned in leather hunting armour. They looked a shadow of the Braduk clan, he thought. While all the members of the Braduk were wearing heavy metal war armour, the duo of Ghaktusks were horribly ill-prepared and unequipped of the battle that was to commence.
“Urygud,” Thurak said as he reached the clan of Ghaktusk “Lat’s klan am zmull, agh nub hab da wepunz tu klomp da Bradukz. Lat blah id, agh da klomp wil beh kawled awf, lat kan leeb da huwli landz ob da
Braduk, agh ztup da flattin ob latz bruddahz.” Urygut’s face was hard and stern, staring past Thurak to the forces of Braduk behind him “Nub. Wi klomp, Braduk, til wi am awl flat, ur lat am awl
flat.” Thurak nodded, he had expected as much. It was an honourable thing, and if Urygut was nothing else, he was as honourable as any Orc. “Yub, Urygud, dat am hozh.”
The chieftain took a step closer, talking to Thurak in a lowered voice “Ib ahm flat, awl ah azk iz tub eh burehed bai da owayziz in da duwnez.” Thurak nodded, agreeing “I wel du id miyzelf, Gahktuzk. Ib lat flat mi, thuw, ah azk ob lat tu berreh mi wif mah kubbeh agh mayt, agh da rest ob mah klan, in da Wezten duwnez, biy da ztuwn pillahz ob Bradukz luzd. Urygut nodded, bringing Thurak into a headbutt as their agreement was made. Thurak strode back to his clan, taking his massive weapon ‘Zpidhammah’
off his back and readying it for the battle. Over the plain he could see Urygut doing the same with his own warhammer, and Thurak grinned. This would be a fight of the Hammers, and one that the Elders of the remaining clan would tell the cubs for as long as the clan stood.
Suddenly, the battle had started.

Thurak charged straight at Uyrgut, and his knew his clan was right behind him, sprinting just as fast towards Urygut’s grunt. When finally they met, Thurak and Urygut were a force not to be touched; this was their fight, it was known. None would interrupt.
With their warhammers swinging wildly in trained blocks and strikes, and the force of countless years of practice, none landed a blow till long into the fight, when they were both tired, and the bloodlust began to die down once more. It was Urygut’s blow that was the first to touch; a followed through elbow after a powerful swing. Thurak stumbled back winded and off-balance as Urygut charged forward, warhammer raised overhead, only to raise his own hammer and deflect the brutal strike that followed. The battle raged on like this for hours, small strikes breaking through the enemy’s defence, enough to do damage,
but quick enough to be able to block the returning attack. It was Thurak that eventually got Urygut  to his knees. Thurak had send a quick jab at Urygut’s knee, the same one previously injured earlier in the fight. Urygut stumbled backward, crying out in pain as his kneecap shattered at the impact. Thurak followed up his attack with a rapid headbutt, off-balancing the Chiftain of Ghaktusk even more and causing him to fall to the sand, panting on exposed. As Thurak raised the warhammer over his head, Urygut’s eyes widened, for he knew this was the end.
The next move, though, Thurak had not expected.
Urygut raised his arms as the warhammer plummeted down towards his head, though he did not stop it. Instead, he grabbed the handle of the ancient weapon, aiding Thurak with his own force to bring it down on his own head. Thurak heard Zok and Malog cheering on the sideline as Urygut’s head was crushed by Thurak’s brutal hammer, but also heard the Chieftain’s grunt cry out with dismay as the Orc he had fought for was decimated by the spiked weapon. Thurak dropped Zipdhammah, leaving it impaled in the fallen Orc as he roared at the sky, declaring his victory. “Fur Dari, Fur Zharn, Fur BRADUK!”

 

Thurak kept his promise to Urygut after the battle was over. A small gravestone can indeed be seen on top of a dune, overlooking the great southern Oasis. Thurak’s clan had won the fight, but there was no denying the honour Urygut had shown through the fight, and through his time as a chieftain, and as such he deserved to be remembered; the solid stone grave still stands motionless, the biting winds of the desert doing nothing to the stone fortress in which Urygut now resided.
This was a victory for Braduk, and a loss for Gahktusk. They had agreed on the terms of victory beforehand; the winner gains possession of the other’s fort, and the loser’s clan offered no resistance.

 

[Glyc 234]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.