A Brief Story Around The Fire

[Catarrh 720]

Chapter 5: Rom

   The sun burned hot upon the savanna lands as the War Nation went about it’s usual business. The pounding of hammers could be heard as new huts were erected in the Trog. Slaves groaned as they toiled away in the dirt. In the klomping pit, two uruks were beating each other bloody. Then, from among the black and white of the Yar camp, Chief Malog called out for his clan to gather for a story. He seemed hesitant to tell the story without any of his cubs around to hear it, but it was time.

   ((Note: As with the previous stories, this one was also written in English for the convenience of both writer and reader.))

   My grandfather, Rom, the cub of Borug, the cub of Bula, the cub of Yar, was a herdsman in his village. Like his father, he didn’t care for politics or fancy titles. He simply took satisfaction in doing his job, which was to tend to the herds which provided meat to the village. Unlike most herdsmen, however, his herds didn’t consist of cows, swine or sheep. He preferred the flesh of the other races. The human was his cow; the dwarf, his pig; the elf, his sheep.

   Whenever he and his brothers went out to battle, he’d be sure to take at least one prisoner home with him. Sometimes, he’d mount his jabbernak and go out on his own for days at a time. There’d be no sign of him until the village heard the rattle of chains and the cracking of his whip in the distance, as he’d return with a group of fresh captives. He’d march them into the village, and toss them down into a pit, where they did very little other than sit and eat.

   Like pigs, they simply waited around in the filth and squalor of their pit until feeding time. If one tried to scale the wall or showed any signs of hope, Rom would flog them or turn them over to his olog companion, Dogug. Those who survived an encounter with Dogug rarely misbehaved again. Under Rom and Dogug’s watchful eyes, the chattel simply ate, slept and waited. When any of them got fat enough, they were moved out of the pit, and butchered. On important feast days, Rom would often run out of prisoners and have to go get new ones.

   During his life, Rom took three mates, but his favorite was a vicious warrior named Lash. He saw a kindred spirit in her, and often she joined him in his kidnapping and herding. Together they bore his only male cubs, Yatur and my father, Gurak. Yatur grew into a peculiar and fairly eccentric orc, who died being launched from an orc dispenser later in life. Gurak was a strong warrior who preferred a hooked sword in battle, but I’ll speak more on him later.

   Rom lived to be one hundred years old, and died alongside Lash hunting a rather large scaddernak. He was buried with his spear and his whip, and Lash was buried beside him with her warhammer and her shield. Both of them were fine warriors, whose brutality in their job matched their brutality in battle. His story isn’t as long or glorious as the stories of Guldur and Yar, but it’s part of the family history that made the Yar clan possible.

 

((Admitedly, my other four stories linked below are all better than this one))

Story of Guldur: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/105834-an-orcish-genealogy/

Story of Yar: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/106182-a-continued-genealogy/

Story of Bula: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/107735-more-heritage/#entry1009610

Story of Borug: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/119651-among-dusty-parchments/?hl=genealogy

[ChonGojDragonski 317]

Sexy. Glad to be a Yar.

[Rig 17590]

"Rom" Romulus Visconti blinks. 

[Catarrh 720]

((Fixed the links at the bottom. They should work properly now.))

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

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