The Iron Age

[the 1 bow 1112]

The Iron Age

A tale of three Rhinos

 

Act I: The rebirth of the Braduk clan

Act II: The brother's rise to power

Act III: Kahn's Rexdom

 

Prologue

 

Gargant’Braduk, son of Orgrim’Braduk, of the warrior bloodline, known as the Shara Hunter as a result of his campaign in Anthos which led to the deaths and enslavement of tens of thousands of humans. An orc known for his prowess in battle, and the claim that he never lost a klomp in single combat. In the middle aged years of the descendants time in Athera, Gargant returned to the Warnation, only to find a nation that was no true Warnation like he had grown to know in his youth - it was only a feeble imitation; ramshackled clans strewn together picking fights that they could not win. Because of this, Gargant’Braduk left.

 

During his brief travels of Athera, the old soldier came across a feroc - Durani. She was younger than him, but was no whelp. Durani would never be Gargant’s old lifemate, Mira, whom had passed centuries prior, yet she gave the old orc a happiness he had not felt in years, so the two settled in the mountains. They went on to have three children.

 

This is where the story begins.

 

Act I - Great and Terrible things

 

Threes, always in threes: A prophecy fulfilled

 

Despite the sharp chilling air outside the half-cave half-blarg in the heart of the terrace in between two mountains within this make-shift home, it was hot and humid. Durani yelped with pain - this was not her first cub, she had had other mates before, but Braduks were bigger than most orcs even in infancy. Gargant watched on as his old friend Larty wun eye - who had served every Braduk chieftain since he was found as a child by the legendary Mokrag’Braduk - hover before his mate, trying to help her get this stubborn cub out.

 

“Come on Durri’, put some back into it.” The goblin jested. Durani let out a snarl, gripping the many pelts that lay beside her.

 

“Do you wanna be forcing out this skah’ha?!” She yelled. Gargant laughed, sipping from his mug of ale.

 

Several hours later, the baby crawled out of his mother’s womb. It was a boy. His tiny muscles rippled as he contorted about, letting out a low growl. Larty grabbed the cub, handing him to his mother. Gargant moved over to her, placing one hand on her shoulder and the other on the crown of his new son. The cub’s eyes opened for the first time, they almost glowed a dim blue. Gargant took his son from Durani, lifting him up to eye level.

 

“His eyes, they are a pure blue. This is an omen. My son, he will be our champion, Durani. He will be called Kahrneth, for in our language, it means ‘great rhino’ - this one is the one that was promised, the one who will unite the people, all of the people.” Gargant proclaimed. The boy would go on to take the name ‘Kahn’ for short. A year later, the two mates bore another cub. This one however almost resulted in the death of Durani, due to the sheer size of him. Ghazkoth he would be named, a tribute to Gargant’s great friend and cousin, Ghazkull the Shadow of Death of Anthos whom his second born resembled a great deal. A few years after the birth of Ghazkoth, Gargant and Durani had their last cub, Drax. He was the smallest of the trio, yet he was still an enormous child.

 

And so, the three Braduk brothers were brought into the world.

 

This new family spent the early years of their conception in seclusion, for the Warnation was weak, and the time was not right to return. Gargant taught his sons the ways of old, the ancient traditions of the Braduks, their stories and legends. He also told him the tales of the orcs, and how they were once prideful, yet now they were a mere shadow of what they once were. The old orc taught his sons the warriors way, fighting whatever challenge is laid before you no matter the cost. Gargant began to mould and shape Kahn, trying to set him on the path that in the eyes of the Braduks, he was destined to walk. Kahn often fought this – power was not a thing he desired but Gargant persisted. Ghazkoth and Drax did not slip into their older brother’s shadow however, the two of them became unearthly talented fighters, excelling in strength and speed respectively. Years passed, and this was the way of their lives, until one day, Durani fell ill. The brothers were in their teens, and had become hardened. Yet grief did not spare them once their mother left the mortal realm for that of the spirits. The day after she died, Gargant summoned Kahn to his chambers within their cave.

 

“Yes, father.” The adolescent orc asked. His long hair draped over his shoulders like a lion’s mane, his towering muscular form dwarfed that of a normal orc, his swampy green skin turned barely visible in the darkness of the room.

 

“I know it saddens you, that your mother has died.” Gargant said in a low tone. “But know your feelings, own them.”

 

“I feel no sadness father. You assume wrongly.”

 

“An orc who lies to himself, is an orc destined for failure, Kahn.”

 

“Why have you asked me here?”

 

“It is time.” Gargant replied, rising. His knees buckled. The once mighty warrior groaned, hobbling over to his son until he was within arms reach. “It is time you bring back the Braduk clan.”

 

“No, I am no leader.” Kahn told him, taking a pace backwards.

 

“You…are Kahn, the great rhino, it is your destiny.” Gargant huffed out.

 

“That is just a name father! You cant put the weight of other’s failures onto me. You have told me since I was a child that I am meant to be a great leader, I never asked for this. Why not Ghazkoth, or Drax?” Gargant’s eyes were cold and unfeeling, he clutched his famous ebony axe Blackhorn, focusing on his son. Kahn, the tallest of the three brothers towered over the ancient Orc. Kahn realised what his fathers intentions were.

 

“Don’t make me do this father.”

 

“It is your destiny, you are destined for-“

 

“Do not bind me by words spoken about my ancestors, I am not them, I seek no power!” Kahn snapped back. Gargant gave off a snarl, swinging his axe sloppily at his son’s neck – he had lost his edge with age. Kahn clubbed his father’s arm away, managing a dodge. His father pressed his offence, lunging once more. Feeling the call of bloodlust – one that would go onto serve him well later in life – Kahn disarmed Gargant, and struck him down with a blow to the chest. Blackhorn sunk deep into the Orc’s flesh.

 

“Only you..” He wheezed as the life retreated from his eyes. Gargant was slain. Kahn took Blackhorn and would continue to wield it until it was destroyed in combat years later.

 

A shadow of themselves: A fork in the road

 

The fire cackled madly as it crisped the wood that had been fed to it as if it were a living creature. Kahn, Ghazkoth, Drax and Larty sat around the fire, the night was cold, and the night was quiet. Ghazkoth brandished his axe, Hellscream, staring into the flaming abyss.

 

“What do we do now? He asked, never taking his eyes off the fire. Ghazkoth had grown into a beast. To call him huge would be like describing the cosmos as fairly large. His eyes were the darkest shade of blue, and he had taken to covering himself in intimidating war paint.

 

“We can’t stay here, can we?” Drax also asked. His lean, toned frame tensed as he spoke. His skin was the lightest of the trio, shades of his mother surfacing through. Everyone turned to Kahn, who sat, looking at Gargants axe, which was Orgrim’s axe before him, ‘Blackhorn’. He let out a grunt.

 

“No, we can’t. No game has been found in the past month, and our crops are barely surviving the cold. We have one choice, we join our kin.” Kahn’s long flowing hair draped into a ponytail that extended most of the way down his back. His blue eyes had a reddish hue to them – it seemed as though this was when Enrohk decided upon his chosen.

 

Dawn broke, and the brothers and their goblin had already arrived at the orcish savannah. The mountain in which they resided was abreast the uruk grasslands. They rode their rhinos through the Trog, following the path that led to nothing. Not once did they pass an orc. The four halted on top of a hill, scoping out the entire savannah. Nothingness, as far as the eye could see.

 

“Pitiful.” Kahn said with a grunt.

 

“Skah happened to us? Father always said, the orcs were proud, that we were a war nation, the Warnation.” Ghazkoth growled out. Drax sighed, shaking his head.

 

“Yeah, he also said that time passed long ago.” The youngest brother responded. Larty looked up at the three from his slightly smaller rhino.

 

“Kahn, our brothers and sisters need a leader.” The old goblin told the orc whom he had helped raise. Kahn snarled, and his brothers grunted.

 

“Well best of luck to that leader. Skah this. We are leaving.” The thud of heavy steps that was the convoy of rhinos gradually echoed softer and softer within the savannah, before they faded away completely.

 

The four Braduks travelled as nomads for several years, until Kahn was twenty-one, Ghazkoth twenty, Drax, eighteen, and Larty…no one truly knew for sure. Being of the warrior bloodline of the Braduks, the three brothers were excellent fighters, and covered all bases in regards to it.

 

Drax was incredibly quick and agile, and was also highly skilled with long range attacks.

Ghazkoth was unearthly powerful, with strength tantamount of dozens of orcs rolled into one monstrosity, and he also could absorb enormous amounts of damage.

Kahn, was the perfect combination of the two to make a terrifying warrior, but he also had a strategic, tactical and cunning mind.

 

With the addition of Larty who was able to provide sustainable goods and services to the three as well as organise everything that needed to be organised, the Braduks decided that they would lease themselves out as warriors for hire. This proved immensely successful, and the group found that they had become a notorious faction.

 

Larty burst through the flaps of the war-tent of the Braduk’s encampment. Kahn sat in a large wooden chair, its wood withered in appearance, which sat before a long table with countless maps and papers sprawled across it. Drax, sat on the end of the table whilst Ghazkoth stood beside the fireplace inside the tent. The smoke slithered through the poorly made chimney, which was literally just a hole in the roof.

 

“Got a letter, from some Orenian faction.” Larty said, walking over to Kahn and handing him the note. Kahn opened the parchment, breaking the strange looking seal. He glossed over the contents of the letter, setting it down.

 

“They want our help defending the north from the Dwarves,” Kahn thought aloud. “write back saying we accept their contract.” Larty sighed, taking hold of the note.

 

“I’ve given you all my help, during this path that you have chosen to travel down. Even before that when you were cubs. But no more. I’ve tended to your wounds, but I wont watch you die.”

 

“What are you saying?” Ghazkoth asked Larty, approaching the table. The other two brothers sat silently.

 

“You all have done alright with yourselves, outside of the Uzg. How far are you going to take it? When do you draw the line and say, ‘that’s enough of fighting other peoples wars’?” Larty looked at the three orcs as if they were his own sons, in a way they were.

 

“We have done fine, in the dozens of wars we have fought in Larty. We always win.” It was Drax who responded, Larty cupped his hands together, sighing.

 

“This isn’t like the other wars. You’ve never worked with Oren herself. Regardless of if you win, they’ll kill you. I have watched every Braduk I have ever known, since Mokrag took me in when I was a cub centuries ago, burn on a pyre. I wont watch the three of you turn to ash as well.” Larty’s eyes glossed over, as if tears swelled within them. Kahn stood up, looking at the goblin.

 

“I know my father wanted me to be a great leader. But he was of the warrior bloodline, as am I. He would have wanted us to fight, no matter the cost because he loved his sons.”

 

“What if he didn’t?” Larty said, his voice stern and weak at the same time. “What if, he never cared for you, any of you, and saw only the omen when he looked at you. Not his sons…only what you were destined to be.” Silenced flooded the tent.

 

“How dare you…use my father to try and stop me.” Kahn said, clenching his fists.

 

“I’m using the truth. I wont watch another member of this family burn.”

 

“So you’re leaving?” Larty nodded. Ghazkoth leaned his hands against the table, breathing heavily.

 

“You expect us to all smile and go on our skah’n merry way then?” The giant snarled out.

 

“No. That’s not what I expect. I expect you three will hate me, but that hatred…might mean saving the lives of three orcs that I have cared for since I first heard their cries…echo…through that old cave.” Kahn sat back down, sagging in the chair.

 

“Good bye Larty.” Kahn uttered, keeping his eyes off the Goblin.

 

The following morning, Kahn Ghazkoth and Drax rode to the war-camp of the Orenian faction that had contracted them. The faces of countless young unblooded soldiers stared at the three large orcs, mounted on their rhinos. The Braduks could smell fear. A guard, more young in appearance met the three on horseback.

 

“You, you and you,” he said, pointing at each of them, “come with me.” The guard led the orcs to a large tent, stretching a great deal lengthways. They entered, and standing before them were several humans, clad in plate armour baring various sigils. They stood over a table where a well-sketched map, adorned with figurines to signify soldier contingents and troop formations lay across. A middle-aged man with dirty blonde hair and a thick beard looked up from the table at the three orcs. He turned his focus to Kahn.

 

“You are the leader, I assume?” Kahn nodded slowly, gritting his teeth. He didn’t enjoy being surrounded by humans, nor did his brothers. “Good. Here is the plan. The Dwarves intend a siege, we will not be giving it to them. The 1^st Regiment will take them by surprise, drawing open their flank. The 2^nd and 4^th Regiments will box them in, once this has hap-..” Kahn interrupted.

 

“Pinkskin. Where will we be fighting.” The large orc said plainly.

 

“You and your…men will be tasked with breaking the Dwarves front lines.”

 

“Alright then.”

 

A mere few hours later, the lines of Dwarven legions appeared on the horizon. The Orenians had told the Braduks that the flanking force would manoeuvre first, then they would begin work on the vanguard, and then the rest of the army would swiftly follow by attacking the sides. The Braduk brothers looked on, mounted on their rhinos, wielding their weapons as if extensions of their own arms, staring down the legions of Dwarves, and they saw, nothing. The Orenians had not sent a flanking force, and the Dwarves were advancing quickly.

 

“Krug has heard my prayers!” Ghazkoth claimed, “There is no boast in an easy victory.” Drax chuckled, pulling on his rhino’s reigns.

 

“When I am encircled by mad skahs, I begin to count myself among them.” The lean orc said, cracking his neck. Kahn looked at his two brothers, then at the army before him.

 

“LETS GET STUCK IN!” He roared, and rode forth. Flanked by his brothers, the three Rhino Lords charged, weapons in the air, veins coursing with bloodlust, and they immediately tore through the vanguard.

 

Upon bursting through the front lines of the Dwarves;

 

Drax began firing arrows with pinpoint accuracy, each one finding its place snugly in the gaps between the plates of the Dwarves uniform and well-made armour. This continued until Drax unfortunately ran out of arrows, at which point he leapt from his rhino, sword in hand, clashing into a dwarf and driving his blade directly in-between his eyes flushly, a perfectly time shot. Returning to his feet, he became ensconced in a circle of Dwarven infantry. Drax unhooked his axe, and with it in one hand, and his sword in the other, leapt into the shield wall that was the Dwarves. He lodged his axe in the skull of one, then parried a blow with his sword before returning the favour, yet his swing connected, decapitating the enemy. As more Dwarves closed in, Drax couldn’t help but laugh. More midgets to kill. And kill he shall.

 

Ghazkoth barrelled through at least a dozen rows of Dwarves, his rhino thundering through them in a vicious one member stampede. Ghazkoth laughed sadistically, bashing his axe into the skulls of numerous Dwarves whilst still on rhino-back. Eventually however, a Dwarf sliced his blade across the behemoth’s thigh. A fatal mistake. Ghazkoth dismounted his rhino, sauntered over to the Dwarf, and with one hand, grabbed him by the throat and ripped out his jugular. Another Dwarf charged the giant, swinging wildly. Ghazkoth parried the shot, then smacked the Dwarf’s axe out of his hand with his own, much larger weapon. Ghazkoth headbutted the manlete to the ground, before driving his axe into his sternum. When a Dwarf stabbed Ghazkoth through the back of his shoulder, the towering giant simply turned around to face him, grabbed him by the upper throat with one hand and wrapped his other hand around the top of his head, and literally ripped the poor Dwarf’s head off.

 

Kahn leapt from his rhino as soon as he made contact with the Dwarves, rolling across the dirt and in the same movement, lodged his axe into the skull of an attacker. His rhino kept charging through the lines however, goring many unsuspecting Dwarves. Rising to his feet, Kahn surveyed the scene. Two Dwarves charged at him, to which he dodged both their swings, shoving one into the other, and mashing his axe into their faces respectively. The Braduk saw that Drax had become encircled within a shield wall, and for lack of better term, hurled himself into it. Battering several Dwarves over, Kahn began cutting them to pieces, slaying all who tried to attack him. It was at the point that his rage overtook him, and when one of the Dwarves leapt at him, Kahn brought his axe up, then down, cleaving him from shoulder to crotch, leaving the Dwarf in two halves.

 

The three brothers regrouped, and off in the distance, Orenian calvary was visible attacking the Dwarven flanks.

 

“Now they decide the skah’n show up.” Drax said with a laugh. They exchanged nods, but were disturbed when multiple horns blew in succession behind them. The human with the dirty blonde hair and the beard rode forth on horseback with a party of guards with him.

 

“It seems you have served your purpose, Titan.” The human bitterly said, “Kill the Xenos.” The Braduks all growled, readying their blood-stained weapons.

 

“We had a deal, human.” Kahn snarled out.

 

“Yes, you’d fight the Dwarves. This is merely cleaning the realm of filth. In the name of the Creator, in sight of God, and men, I sentence you to die.” Ghazkoth and Drax looked to Kahn. He paused, then gave a nod. Drax, without warning, lunged at the blonde bearded man, tackling him off his horse. Before he could finish however, several of the mans guards engaged him. The Orenians formed a wall in front of their commander, the man with the blonde hair, who was seething with anger. “SLAY THESE FILTH!” He shouted. Ghazkoth stomped two of the guards in front of the commander at once with the same boot, knocking them to the ground.

 

“KAHN!” The giant called out, moving in towards the commander. Kahn began running towards the furthermost guard in the line, superman punching him, and knocking him unconscious. Before any other Orenian could react, in an almost text-book rehearsed manoeuvre, Kahn flanked the human commander, launching his axe into the back of his knees, whilst Ghazkoth struck him horizontally across his chest, causing the human to contort in ways that those of a human’s skeletal structure should not. The commander with the blonde hair fell to the ground in a bloodied heap. Kahn let out a whistle, and the three Braduk’s rhinos marched over to them. They mounted and made haste, leaving the Oreners behind.

 

“Skah’n bullskah!” Ghazkoth cried out in a fit of anger, throwing a heavy fist into a tree. “Skah do they think they are?”

 

“Larty was almost right there.” Drax said, exhaling. Kahn dropped firewood on the ground, grunting.

 

“Don’t worry about it brothers. We got to kill some midgets, and that c*nty human aswell. I say, regardless of whether we got payed or not, it was a pretty skah’n good day.” The three laughed for a time, before making camp for the night. The rhinos grumbled, their heavy saddles carried supplies as well as all of the orcs weapons. Yet they were tough, they weren’t complaining, only tired after a day of murdering.

 

Kahn could almost feel the sun rising as he slumbered, but he was awoken by the sound of a breaking stick. Strange…for such a small noise to wake him up. What looked to be a small army of humans walked through the shrubbery into plain view. Kahn’s eyes instantly darted toward the rhinos for his weapons. They were gone.

 

“Don’t try to move big fella, we just want to talk.” The one in the most centre of the group said, sword drawn, it shimmered in the dim sunlight of the morning. His voice woke Drax and Ghazkoth.

 

“You Oren?” Kahn asked in what sounded to be more of a statement rather than a question.

 

“Me, hah! Nah.” The human said. He wore poorly worked chainmail, no sigils. “I’m a bounty hunter, as is my many colleagues you see around you. Me and these fine gentlement have been tracking you for the past week…or maybe two I’ve lost count. Point is, also good showing against the Dwarves the other day, you three have worked up quite the price on your heads. So wakey wakey, up you get, lets go.” Their instincts were too fight, yet the Braduks were not stupid. They couldn’t win this klomp.

 

For several weeks, the bounty hunters travelled with the three orcs. Each time they would find a probable buyer, the trio would somehow always find a way to kill them. The only reason they were kept alive was due to the hefty sum that would be given upon purchase of them. Eventually however, the bounty hunters deemed the three too dangerous to be kept together, so they decided to parlay them off to separate parties and make profits off them individually.

 

The bounty hunters restrained the three orcs, and kept them on separate sides of the crossroads in the forest.

 

Three different factions arrived from separate corners of the forest, each bidding prices for an individual orc of the three, offers that the bounty hunters could not refuse. With a few exchange of words and purses, the three groups left with their respective orcs, and the bounty hunters, heavy with coin.

 

Kahn watched his younger brothers struggle to free themselves yet like them, he could do nothing to prevent what was happening. The last thing he saw was the two of them being carted off in separate directions before a blunt object struck him over the back of his skull, everything hazed to darkness after that.

 

During the journey, Kahn would wake very briefly on numerous occasions, catching glimpses of the world around him. The forest, then inside a carriage, then what appeared to be a stone floor, armoured legs, a large hole….

 

Kahn suddenly snapped awake in a dark room, dimly lit by a single torch. He tried to move, but he was in chains around his wrists and ankles. He thrust his body forward, but to no avail. He was also in a cage/cell which kept him separate from the rest of the room. It was then when he noticed someone else. A man in armour moved into view. He looked familiar, a young human.

 

“Morning, or evening…or afternoon. I’ll leave it for you to guess.” The man said.

 

“You..I’ve seen you before.” Kahn said, still dazed. As the cobwebs in his head cleared, Kahn soon realised who was before him. The young Oren soldier from before.

 

“Mhm. And you saw my brother too. Before you savages butchered him.” Kahn chuckled.

 

“That yellow haired skah was your brother? Ha, he died like a b*tch.” The rhino lord said defiantly. “You Oreners love your executions, do it and be done with it. I don’t care for your attempts at showing how tough you are.”

 

“Oh but that’s what your wrong, Orc. We aren’t in Oren anymore, nor am I am an Orener, these days, at least.” The man stepped towards the cage, placing his hand on one of the bars. “You’re going to die here. And I’m going to make sure that the death is slow, painful, and torturous. You’ll regret everything you’ve done, you’ll regret dropping out of your c*nt mother too. And before it’s all over, you’ll call me master.” Kahn thrust forward again, but his chains kept him in place. “Bye for now.”

 

Bloodlusted: Paint it red

 

For the next several years Kahn was kept locked in the cell and in chains. He was fed only enough to keep him alive. There were more humans than just the young one – they would come in often and torture him. Covered in cuts and bruises, they also mentally battered Kahn, trying to break his spirit. He fought it for a time, and became known for biting off fingers, however, the young human once mentioned an old Goblin a scout he saw leave Kahn Ghazkoth and Drax’s war tent years prior when the three fought alongside Oren. The young man spoke of how they came across this old Goblin and slaughtered him. After that, Kahn stopped reacting – only brooding to himself.

 

Days more passed, weeks, as the scars piled up and the insults continued, and Kahn sat.

 

A day came though, perhaps it was in the early hours of the morning, the withered Orc knew not, when he heard unfamiliar footsteps enter the room. He lifted his head, it was the first time he had done so in months, and looked out into the room before him. Darkness covered it, he was unsure if there were others present with him.

 

The metal of the cell floor clanked as a blade collided with it, and again as a second followed. Two small daggers. Once more it rang, a key dropping this time. Close enough for Kahn to grasp, he jammed it into the holes on his binds, slowly turning the key. Rising, taking the two daggers in hand, Kahn tried the key on the cell door – it opened. As soon as it did, a bell connected to the cell thundered, echoing throughout whatever structure Kahn was being held in. Several soldiers rushed in, armed and ready to fight. Kahn towered before them, rage swelled within him. The rage…his eyes glowed red. Years of torture had rendered him utterly feral.

 

Letting out a deathly roar, Kahn rushed forward. One of the four men lunged at him, Kahn smashed his sword away with one arm and lodged the dagger into his temple with the other. Ripping his blade free he immediately descended upon another, stabbing both daggers into his chest. The third man sliced Kahn across the shoulder, the Orc then proceeded to stun him with a head-butt and stab one of the daggers through the bottom of his mouth and into his skull vertically. Leaving the knife in the man’s head, Kahn charged at the fourth who had begun to flea, growling viciously as he wrapped his arm around the humans throat and stuck the blade into his eye. The door of the room was left open.

 

Despite his immense injuries Kahn pressed on into the corridor that lay out in front of him – more guards approached. Some had their heads caved in, others disarmed and left in a bloody heap. One was disembowelled with their own weapon. Glancing back, Kahn saw he had painted the corridor red, blood guts and flesh littering the area. The rage…

 

Kahn emerged into the outside world – the sun sliced his eyes like a knife. It must’ve been midday. A party of warriors stepped out before him, and without hesitation, consumed by bloodlust Kahn charged forward. However, emerging behind him came four armed figures – two large, two smaller – who joined him in the fight. In the end, the humans were slain. Kahn turned to the three figures, preparing to descend upon them.

 

“Kahn!” A voice called out. So familiar it was. “Brother.” The same voice reiterated. The three removed their cloaks; Ghazkoth, Drax and Larty The fourth was a feroc Kahn had not seen before. Kahn slowly cooled, the sight of his family returning his mental state to its level once previous.

 

“Gha..Lart…Drax..” Kahn mumbled.

 

“Do you remember us, Kahn?” Ghazkoth spoke again. Kahn rose to his full height, nodding. The two brothers walked forward and embraced.

 

“It’s good to see you, brother.” Kahn said. He turned to Drax, greeting his kid brother warmly. Larty slowly moved towards the Orc he had not seen for years.

 

“Kahn, I’m sor-..”

 

“No. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” The two hugged as only a father and son would, despite the lack of a blood relation. Kahn’s focus now fell upon the Feroc who lingered behind the group. “Who is this?” He asked.

 

“My name is Grohla.” The Feroc replied. Ghazkoth glanced at her, then back to Kahn.

 

“She’s a friend of ours, we came across her once we were freed and she helped us find you. She’s honourable and a good fighter. She’s one of us now.” Kahn grunted, but gave a nod.

 

“The leader, where is he?” Kahn asked. The young human who had orchestrated Kahn’s torture was nowhere to be seen.

 

“A man fled on a horse as we arrived.” Drax responded. Kahn gave a growl, but there was nothing he could do. Larty stepped forth.

 

“Come then, kids, we have much to talk about.”

 

Starting the fire: The rebirth

 

“How’d you find me?” Kahn asked amidst the many bites of a boar leg. The group of five sat around in a makeshift camp, not entirely sure what their future held. Larty leaned up straight, his old bones cracking.

 

“I soon learned that the three of you had been captured following the battle against the Dwarves. I then made it my duty to see you free. I tracked Ghaz first, he was the easiest to find. He slaughtered his captors and spent time in the wilds alone.” Ghazkoth’s eyes held an odd sense of joy as Larty recounted this, his thoughts most certainly returning to this past. “Once I found him, we soon sniffed out Drax – it’s not hard to track a tracker.”

 

“I was being held at a labourers camp,” Drax continued on, “to work until I could not go on. They planned to kill me. Hur, they were tastey.” No more needed to be said on that particular event. Larty spoke once more.

 

“We spent years trying to find you after that. It seems you had vanished, or were killed. But we met Grohla, who was an escaped prisoner of the people who held you. She told us of who her captors were, and how they tormented another Orc for crimes that they wouldn’t specify. We figured it was our best shot. Lucky, I suppose.” Kahn looked at Grohla.

 

“Thank you.” She waved the gratitude away, giving a chuckle.

 

“No need to thank me, I wanted those skahs dead anyhow.” The feroc replied.

 

“Where will we go?” Ghazkoth chimed in, seeming now to focus more on the present. Larty nodded.

 

“That’s a good question.” The Goblin added. “The Uzg has been reformed, somewhat. A Gorkil has claimed Rexdom, Grogmar. I know not of his exploits, but he claims to be an old Orc, and a powerful one at that.” The three Braduk brothers laughed in sync at the last comment.

 

“So, the Uzg is back.” Kahn stated, his mind riddled with dissension.

 

“Perhaps it’s time we return. The Braduks have been absent from it for centuries.” Ghaz said in response.

 

“We’ll need a leader.” Drax said, his mad eyes falling to Kahn. The eyes of the others did as well. The towering Orc gave a sharp inhale, and took a long blink, his eyes not opening for a time.

 

“Alright then.” Kahn’s blue-red eyes opened as he rose to his full height. “I will lead us, as so many have said it was for me to do. I, will bring the Braduk clan back to a broken War Nation. I, will restore the clan beyond its past glories and take it to heights it has never seen before. I swear this to you, here and now, for if I am to lead, I will rule. And if I am to rule, I will be the most powerful ruler this clan has ever seen. Ghash Nagraufom, my brothers. The Fire Rises.”

 

The Braduk clan had returned.

 

Act - II The Dawn of Glory

 

Back to the Uzg: The rhinos are back in town

 

A light rain showered down upon the quintet of green skins as they slowly trodded along the path to the Warnation. The droplets of water made faint tinking sounds as they hit their varying pieces of armour, and before long the Braduks arrived at the Trog. Few Orcs scattered around the market, all their faces reading an intrigue in the group before them – these young Orcs have never seen Rhino Lords before. Making their way into the city the five continued past the many tents that stretched before them until they came to the steps of the newly built Rex Palace. Kahn gave off a grunt, looking at the structure.

 

“Ghaz, on me. The rest of you wait here.” Kahn and Ghazkoth, still mounted on their rhinos began to ascend the steps to the palace whilst the other three remained. A crowd began to form around them.

 

“This palace, it’s too grand.” The sadistic Orc said. Kahn grunted once again.

 

“We’ll see if this Rex is worthy of such a home.” No Keshig guarded the entrance, and the gate stood open as the two entered. Their rhinos huffed as they walked forth. An Orc lounged on the throne, baring several Gorkil heritage tattoos and a shaved head. Rex Grogmar’Gorkil.

 

“Who enters my hall, mounted of all things?” The Rex thundered, his voice echoing through the empty palace. The Braduks continued on their rhinos until they came to the foot of the Rex’s throne. Grogmar made a gesture implying for the two to dismount – they did not oblige.

 

“My name is Kahn’Braduk.” The new Braduk chief answered. “You are, Rex Grogmar, correct.” Grogmar leaned forward, nodding, flashing his yellowish tusks.

 

“Braduk, that’s not a name I’ve heard in a long time.” The Rex replied.

 

“Get used to hearing it.” Ghazkoth said, his voice plain yet full of malice. Grogmar scoffed.

 

“Oh really?” Kahn smiled at Ghazkoth as Grogmar questioned, but his face returned to one of serious intent soon after.

 

“I have reborn the Braduk clan, and have returned to your Warnation, Rex Grogmar. We will fight with all of you, live with all of you, as our ancestors once did.” Kahn said. Grogmar nodded, leaning back in his throne.

 

“Very good. Ill have you, Kahn’Braduk, you will take the title of Chieftain.”

 

“No. I claim the title of Warchief. The Braduks pre-date most of the whelp clans that make up your horde today. We have a legacy superseding most of the clans new and old. Chieftain, is for new clans. I will honour tradition and earn my place as a Wargoth. But for now, I am a Warchief.” Kahn’s eyes gave insight to just how serious he was. There was a long silence in the Rex palace, the Braduk and Gorkil keeping their gaze fixed on one and other.

 

“So be it.” Grogmar conceded.

 

Old wounds: A forgotten foe

 

Under Kahn’s rule the Braduk clan began to prosper, yet times were still tough. The War Uzg’s path to rebuilding itself was riddled with peril – Orcs were few in number and dissension kept tensions high. Grogmar introduced reforms yet none important or effective enough to take hold and make a difference. Braduk-side however, Kahn and Grohla had taken to eachother as lifemates and together had four sons; Krom, Kharn, Gorhan and Baine, and a daughter, Uhaa. The new Braduk Warchief had allied with clan Yar, a splinter clan of Braduk with a long history of brotherhood to the Rhino Lords – Kahn had come to call their Warchief Malog a brother. Yet despite the clan’s successes, the Uzg still suffered, and soon, the Braduks would also.

 

Black and blue tents dotted a piece of landscape in the savannah that was ensconced by trees. Kahn, Ghazkoth and Drax lounged in a crude war-tent, looking at plans Larty had drawn up for a fort. The Goblin himself was out with Grohla, playing with her and the Warchief’s cubs. Krom, the eldest, was ten and Uhaa being the youngest was barely a toddler. The Braduks were to build the greatest fort the Uzg had ever seen – the Doomfort Ghazkoth suggested it be named. Designed to repel all forms of siege from the ground, it would be near impenetrable. Yet as any smart tactician knows, things do not often go according to plan. This hard lesson, the Braduks would quickly learn.

 

“Come out big guy!” A voice commanded from outside the tent. The giant Warchief’s form emerged, flanked by his two brothers. His blood quickly began to boil and the visage that lay before him – hundreds of soldiers had made their way through the savannah and to the Braduk encampment, all armed and armoured. They held Kahn’s children captive – the cubs all unconscious – as well as Larty and Grohla. Kahn unhooked Blackhorn without a second thought.

 

“You let them skah’n go, now!” He roared. The source of the voice that beckoned their attention initially went on to reveal itself – the young human, albeit now middle aged, that held Kahn captive many years ago.

 

“There he is.” The man said smugly, pointing his sword at Kahn. “Remember me?”

 

“You’re skah’n right I remember you.” Kahn retaliated, giving off a sharp snarl.

 

“You’re a hard man to find, aha, but alas, here you are. And in such ugly company it seems.” Kahn’s eyes met Grohla’s, who had a blade to her throat. The man noticed this, “Oh, she yours?” He asked Kahn.

 

“If you touch her, I’ll-..” The man cut Kahn off midsentence, his voice bellowing a loud shout.

 

“You’re in not position to make any sort of threats! Bring her forth.” The soldier holding Grohla brought her into the foreground beside the man in command, forcing her to kneel and keeping a blade still pressed to her throat. “Drop your weapons greenskins so we can get started.” Kahn Ghaz and Drax exchanged glances, then turned their focus on the countless soldiers surrounding them. The odds were too stacked against them this time. Slowly, they lowered their weapons. “Great, now I’ll get to the point. You and your mates killed most of mine some years ago, do you remember?”

 

“We butchered them, to be precise.” Ghazkoth corrected.

 

“Yes! Butchered. Couldn’t have put it better myself. Now I’m not too accustomed to your backwards culture but this is a clan, right?” The man kept his gaze fixed on Kahn. “And you lead them, correct?” The Warchief nodded. “Right. I’m either going to slaughter your entire clan – you included – and that’s including the children here, or…” The man looked around briefly before his eyes fell onto Grohla. “I’m going to kill this wh*re. And you’re going to decide, big man.”

 

“Just kill me instead you c*nt!” Kahn thundered, but the man shook his head in response.

 

“Nah, you’ve gotta watch all of this first. Decide.” Grohla’s eyes pleaded with Kahn that he choose her. She spoke softly;

 

“Kahn…its ok. I’m ready…its ok.”

 

“No..take me instead.” Kahn said, his voice waning.

 

“That’s not gonna happen.” Kahn sunk, he couldn’t let the clan he worked so hard to rebuild go extinct once again, not under his command, not now that they were beginning to prosper. He had a duty – he had to protect his people…but Grohla. “I will kill these kids!” The man called out, trying to spur Kahn into action. Ghazkoth and Drax watched on helplessly, as did Larty and all the Braduks present.

 

“Kahn, it’s alright.” Grohla reassured. Kahn fell to his knees and thumped his fist into the ground, giving out a mighty roar. Ghazkoth knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry, Grohla.” Kahn said quietly. The man nodded to the soldier holding her, who proceeded to drag his blade across her neck and open her throat. She slumped forth, and in a series of gurgles slowly died. Kahn’s fiery eyes locked onto the man in charge, growling under his breath.

 

“Remember big man, you did this. Lets go.” The rest of the soldiers released the Braduks and hastily left the savannah – they would not all meet again for some time.

 

Kahn never told his children what truly happened, only that their mother perished under tragic circumstances.

 

Cattle for the slaughter: The Ugluk Culling

 

Several months went by since the encounter with the human mercenaries, and the Braduk clan bounced back. It should be noted that the Braduk elders told Kahn’s children that their mother was killed in cold blood – sparing them the true nature of the situation. However, shortly after, Uhaa perished due to illness – whether this was due to wounds inflicted or perhaps malnourishment it was not for certain. Grohla and Uhaa were burned together, the clan mourned but carried on. The Doomfort was completed, and it was a fearsome sight to behold. The Braduks began carrying out raids on countless settlements and developed great renown; their numbers began to grow exponentially. It wasn’t long before they became one of the largest and most powerful clans within the Uzg.

 

Believing that a leader must command love, fear and respect from all beneath them Kahn began taking foreign tributaries – something the Uzg at the time paid no mind to. This proved incredibly beneficial for the Braduk clan as they had a constant flow of resources from various groups of non-Orcs and in turn, would offer them protection. This philosophy would serve Kahn well later in life.

 

It was on a humid and previously uneventful day that Kahn sat on this throne in the bowels of the Doomfort when a grunt came running into his throne room.

 

“My Warchief, Ghazkoth and Drax are at the capital and have sent for you, they mentioned something about an Ugluk.”

 

“Thank you.” Kahn replied, leaning forward in his throne, his fingers running through his long hair.

 

Once the closest ally of the Braduk clan, the Ugluks betrayed the Rhino Lords century’s prior in a civil war. In the days of the great Wargoth Mokrag the Blood Talon Braduk, the Uzg was rife with civil war. The Ugluk and Lur clans rebelled against the Uzg, with Pok’Ugluk at the Bull-clan’s head. Mokrag and Pok were battle brothers, having fought alongside one and other for decades. They viewed each other as family, and as such, Mokrag and the Braduks joined them in the rebellion. It didn’t last long, as Pok ordered the Ugluks and Lur’s rejoin the Uzg, but paid no mind to the Braduks. This resulted in the slaughter of countless Braduks. Ever since then, a vicious blood feud has existed between the two clans.

 

For a time the Ugluks prevailed over the Braduks, but as time went on, the tides began to turn and the Braduks began wiping them out. Before long, the Ugluks were no more – the Braduks rendering them extinct in clan warfare. But according to the grunt, Kahn thought, an Ugluk still lived. If true, they would not live long. As Kahn left the Doomfort, he brought with him the famous ‘Ugluk hair parter’ – the last of the original golok machetes forged by Baderkuk, given its name for its use in scalping countless Ugluks during the clan war.

 

Kahn’s long war-braid draped over his shoulder as he came to a halt on his rhino before the arena in the Orcish capital. There he saw a large crowd as he dismounted, comprising of Ghazkoth, Drax, Rex Grogmar’Gorkil, several other clan Chiefs and in the centre, a very old appearing Orc. Kahn shoved his massive form through, standing next to his brothers.

 

“What’s all this then?” His guttural voice asked. Ghazkoth pointed to the old Orc.

 

“Him. He is Nux’Ugluk.” Ghazkoth replied. Nux served as Pok’Ugluks right hand in the clan war against the Braduks – Kahn had heard stories of ‘Nux, Pokz *****’. He killed many Braduks in his day, many Braduk children too. Kahn unhooked the Ugluk hair parter, wasting little time.

 

“He dies.” The Warchief said plainly. Grogmar moved in between the three towering Orcs and Nux.

 

“He’s an Ugluk,” Grogmar said, “Ugluks are a splinter clan of Gorkil, and as Ugluks don’t exist anymore Nux is one of mine. You will not kill him.”

 

“Stand in our way and you’ll fall too.” Ghazoth said, unhooking his axe. One of the Gorkil warriors growled.

 

“You threaten the Rex?” Drax gave off a chuckle in response.

 

“Take it as foresight into the future, rather than a threat.” The mad Braduk retorted.

 

“Hes killed Braduk cubs. If you have any honour you will hand him over to us.” Grogmar looked at Kahn, then back to Nux.

 

“I’ll compromise with you,” The Rex decided, “he shall fight one of my warriors. If he wins, you will do him no harm. Should he lose, then he doesn’t deserve a place in clan Gorkil anyway.” Kahn grunted, looking briefly at Ghaz and Drax.

 

“Get on with it then.”

 

One of the Gorkils and Nux entered the arena, and the klomp began. It was evenly matched for a time, but the Gorkil prevailed. Bloodied and injured, Nux lay in the sand. Now, clanless, physically crippled and dishonoured, things could not get much worse for the old Ugluk.

 

But they did.

 

Kahn, Ghazkoth and Drax descended into the arena at pace, the Warchief tossing the golok machete to Drax. Just as Nux was beginning to rise, Kahn spear-tackled him to the ground and moved into a full mount. Kahn began pummelling his large fists down onto the Ugluk’s face and continued to do so for several minutes until all his tusks had splintered and his eyes had closed over. Rising, Kahn motioned for Ghazkoth to bring him the Ugluk Hair parter. Leaning down, he promptly scalped Nux, and in a following motion, decapitated him. Kahn held up Nux’s lifeless and mutilated head, showing it first to Grogmar then to all Orcs present. The three left the capital and returned to the Doomfort where the head remained piked for the rest of the descendant’s time in Athera.

 

The following day, Kahn ordered an official decree that demanded all Ugluks if found be turned over to the Braduks or clan war would en sue – he swore that he would end their line for good. Every so often an Ugluk descendant would turn up, and at one point a herd of Ugluk bulls were spotted roaming the savannah. The Braduks slaughtered the bulls too. Shortly after, Grogmar’Gorkil left the Warnation and left a leadership vacuum and with no Rex, the clans of the Uzg became independent and operated as such. Dakr’Ugluk, the goblin servant to Pok’Ugluk resurfaced, but was captured, scalped and executed by the Braduk clan not long after.

 

Some weeks after the dissipation of the War Uzg, Kahn and Ghazkoth wandered into the capital, sauntering over to the crafting equipment. An orc, an old orc by the looks of it was at work using the tanning rack. A grumble came from the corner of Kahn's eye. Ghaz tapped his brother on the shoulder and pointed to the source of this noise – an Ugluk bull. Kahn's head snapped onto the orc, who was going about his business without a care.

 

"Whats your name orc." The Warchief asked. The orc finished his business with the tanning rack, looking up with an inviting smile.

 

"I am Ugkop, brothers, and you are?" The orc said. The two Braduks exchanged glances, grunting, ignoring Ugkops follow up question.

 

"I'm gonna ask you one time, Ugkop. Is that your bull?"

 

"Yes, thats Bucephaluz." There was a silence. The reality of situation dawned on the two rhino lords, whilst Ugkop remained oblivious to the situation, yet sensed the hostility.

 

"Why are you so skah'n jolly?" Ghazkoth asked, grabbing the handle of his axe. Ugkop looked at the two, his bull rising.

 

"You two gonna give me a reason not to be?" Ugkop grabbed his wooden training sword, the only weapon he had in his possession. Kahn unhooked the Ugluk hair parter – he had begun carrying it permanently since the Braduks had began the great culling of the Ugluks. Ugkop took a pace back.

 

“To what clan do you belong?” The hulking Warchief asked. He and Ghazkoth dwarfed Ugkop, who’s eyes darted between the two.

 

“Clan?..I do not know. I’ve lived by myself my whole life. I never knew my father, and can barely remember my mother. She spoke of him though, she called him Pok.” Ghazkoth ripped his axe from his belt.

 

“Skah’n Ugluk!” The behemoth cried out. Ugkop took another pace back, his bull grumbling.

 

“What?” The old Orc asked, confused and unaware of why the Braduks were being so aggressive. Kahn held up the ‘hair parter’, brandishing it to Ugkop.

 

“This blade has been used to murder hundreds of your ancestors. You will meet the same fate.” Ugkop slapped his bull on the side which immediately charged at Kahn, who locked arms with the beasts horns. The giant Braduk Warchief forced the bull up onto it’s hind legs and tossed it onto its back. It scrambled across the ground to recover.

 

As this took place Ghazkoth and Ugkop engaged eachother, their weapons clashing. Ugkop’s wooden blade did not last long, Ghaz’s sheer strength caused his axe to splinter the wooden sword soon after their fight began. Ugkop reeled back, punching Ghazkoth in the mouth. A tooth fell loose, and the vicious Orc growled. Ghazkoth sent a devastating right hook into Ugkop’s jaw, sending him onto his back. He brought his axe up to slay him, but the bull charged into him, goring into his side.

 

Kahn leapt forth as Ugkop tried to make it to his feet, kicking him in the torso and sending him back down to the ground.

 

The bull pinned Ghaz against a wall, but the Braduk clasped his giant hands around the other horn of the bull and snapped it away. The beast roared in pain, but its cries were soon snuffed out when Ghazkoth lodged its own horn into it’s skull. The last of the original Ugluk bulls had been slain.

 

Ugkop rolled back onto the balls of his feet and lunged forth into Kahn, who proceeded to almost catch him in a way, wrap his arms around the noticeably smaller Orc and suplexing him up and over his head so that Ugkop landed on the crown of his head. With the Ugkop stunned, Kahn then brought the golok machete down and lodged it into the Ugluk’s collar bone, ripping it free thereafter. The old bull-Orc gave off a gurgle, whether he was displaying fear, defiance or both Kahn did not know, nor did he care.

 

“Die with some dignity, Ugluk.” The Warchief said. Ugkop continued to rive in pain. As Kahn brought the machete up for a killing stroke, Ghazkoth beckoned him to halt.

 

“Wait, brother,” Ghaz said, wiping blood from his mouth. “I would claim this scum’s life.” Kahn chuckled, lowering his weapon. Ghazkoth’s heavy feet stamped towards the bleeding Ugluk, he then crouched beside him, his tree-trunk like arms wrapping around Ugkops throat. In a swift motion, Ghazkoth snapped Ugkop’s neck. Kahn went on to scalp him, then remove his head. The body was piked in several pieces in the middle of the capital.

 

The Ugluk clan was deemed extinct, and would remain so for years to come. When they did eventually return, it would bring an end to the ancient blood feud between clans Braduk and Ugluk, and a peace to one of the most brutal clan rivalries in Orcish history.

 

A short on the Iron Uzg: It’s founding and original intentions

 

For the years that followed the culling of the Ugluk clan the Braduks continued to prosper, but the Orcs as a race remained weak and low in numbers. That is when the Orc Vrogak’Gorkil returned to the Uzg and claimed the seat of Rex. Vrogak was a Rex of the Orcs in Anthos to which he earned the moniker “The Craven” due to his cowardice. However, the leadership vacuum and absence of a Gorkil Wargoth allowed him to seize power – and seize power he did.

 

Vrogak founded the Iron Uzg, which was intended to be a nation built around prominent infrastructure, agriculture, industry and efficiency rather than just war. This ideology Kahn took to, believing that the Orcs were more than just barbarians and would be one that he carried through to and during his eventual Rexdom. But despite his initial intentions, Vrogak led the Iron Uzg into war and war alone, disregarding the nation itself – only concerned with conquest. This proved effective to a degree, as as a military force the Iron Uzg was particularly lethal, but the Orcs began to quickly stagnate. The Braduks fought alongside the Iron Uzg in Vrogak’s war against the Dwarves, and Kahn soon demanded of Vrogak the title of Wargoth due to the Braduk’s high membership count and contribution to the Uzg. Vrogak obliged, naming him Wargoth Kahn’Braduk. In response, Kahn swore loyalty to Vrogak and the Braduks became one of the more powerful clans of the Iron Uzg, setting up the rhino lord’s future rise to power.

 

Alt’yaika: Demons and the Doomfort

 

The night was quiet and still, the newly minted Wargoth Kahn had sent most of his clan out on his tribute run. Only he, the recruit Jolagh – a distant blood relative to the Braduk family - and Kharn remained. Kahn and Jolagh stood topside within the Doomfort whilst the cub played in it’s centre. The mild temporal air of the Orcish savanna stood still for a brief moment, before kicking up in a terrible gush of wind. Screeches pierced the air in all directions before a horde, amassing with numbers over the hundreds flew into view, circling the sky above the Doomfort. They looked as if they were demons, terrible and horrific beasts. The Braduk Wargoth and his Orc stood unshaken. 

 

What could have only been assumed as the monster's alpha flew down from the sky, landing on the ground with a loud boom. It rose to its full height, standing many feet above the two large orcs. Its hide was scaled and visibly thick, it bore claws that boasted long sharp talons. The creature had a spiked tail the length of a fallen tree, its hide of equal coarseness to the rest of its body. Growling, Kahn unhooked Blackhorn as Jolagh ripped his sword from it’s sheath. Kharn watched on as the demon let out a mighty roar – without a moments hesitation, Kahn leapt at the creature.

 

Kahn swung his weapon for the beasts chest. The blow landed, but the axe merely bounced off the monsters hide with a clang as if its skin was metallic. The demon creature swung its claw for Kahn, knocking him back. Jolagh ran forward trying to flank it, but was hit to the ground and rendered unconscious. A fight ensued, yet each strike the orcss landed on this creature achieved nothing, not even a dent. It was then that it opened its jaws to reveal rows upon rows of vicious teeth, but more surprisingly, a strange frost. The air around the Doomfort grew ghastly cold as the monster began breathing out frosted air, perhaps conjuring up some sort of attack. Kahn gave it no such opportunity however, lodging his axe into the monsters mouth. The axe stuck for but a moment, before freezing and then most of it shattering. It was as if time stood still.

 

Kahn's eyes slowly turned a deep, bloody red and at the same time, his vains began to shove their way up against his skin. All of his muscles began to tense and not but a moments later, he was fully consumed by bloodlust – the destruction of his fathers famed axe sending him into a full blown rage. With no weapon, armed only with the curse of his ancestors, the Wargoth charged for the creature, tackling it up against the wall. With only one push of its wings, the beast soared into the air, entangled with the orc. Kahn wrapped his arms around the neck of the beast, and began contorting its neck in an attempt to break it. Retaliating, the monster dug its talons into the side of the Braduk, stabbing them through his flesh deeply. He fought on though; refusing to die at the hands of this would be demon. In the same motion at the same time, Kahn snapped the creature’s neck as it pulled its talons out, goreing open his sides. The two forms dropped to the ground in a heap – the demon dead, Kahn borderline left in two halves, his legs barely attached to his torso and his entrails dangling freely.

 

A voice suddenly called out from seemingly nowhere, condemning the monster for failing to slay the orcs. Jolagh rose, still in a daze. Dozens of the remaining demons flew down into the fort, circling their alpha. One of the demons soared to Kharn, latched it’s talons onto him and flew off, the cub screaming as it was taken. He was never seen again. Jolagh roared, trying his best to save the child but to no avail. The horde of demons retreated, leaving the Doomfort and the Orcish savannah. Kahn lay motionless, blood pooling around him.

 

“The skah’s happened?!” Ghazkoth shouted, returning to the Doomfort flanked by the rest of the Braduk clan. The clan crowded around their fallen Wargoth, Larty making his way to the front.

 

“Skah you all standing around watching for? Help me move him!” The Goblin shouted. As delicately as possible, several Braduk grunts moved Kahn into the depths of the Doomfort, placing him upon an operating table. Larty worked for days – a lesser Orc would have perished but ultimately Kahn’s life was saved. The Wargoth was unable to walk for several weeks.

 

Later Kahn ordered that the teeth of the Alt’yaika demon be used to forge twin axes for him – Gorefather and Gorechild. Two identical blood red axes covered in bone and metal spikes with the teeth of the demon serrating their blades. These twin axes would go on to strike fear into all who fell to them.

 

However whilst saved Kahn was not fully healed – his injuries too severe to be eradicated completely. The damage done to his organs was permanent. These injuries would come back to bite Kahn later in time and plague him for the rest of his life – Kahn would never be at his full capacity as a warrior again.

 

To Vailor: A chance meeting

 

In the final days of Athera the Braduks continued to serve Rex Vrogak and the Iron Uzg loyally in the war against the Dwarves. They respected the Gorkil Rex for his effectiveness as a military commander but Kahn doubted him as a serious leader – Vrogak showed only concern for conquest, neglecting the day-to-day matters of the Orcs as well as their culture, causing them to stagnate greatly. The Braduk Wargoth did not forget this.

 

Eventually though, the descendants made the choice to travel from Athera, and would soon arrive at what would be known as the Isles of Vailor. Kahn, Ghaz, Drax and the rest of the Braduks travelled on the Orc boat, and after the initial rush and pandemonium of setting sail, Kahn sat near the front of the ship, lost in thought. His mental trail was quickly disturbed by the shouting of a Feroc.

 

“Damn it boy! If only your father was still around, he’d show you some real discipline!” The Feroc cried, bashing her son over the head. The young cub, no older than three or four struck back, growling at his mother. She retaliated, stiffly punching him in the jaw and sending him down upon his rear. Kahn watched with mild amusement, but grunted, annoyed by the disturbance. The Feroc saw this and bowed her head in both embarrassment and respect in the presence of a Wargoth.

 

“Sorry, Wargoth Kahn, his father was killed when he was very young. Hes a stubborn boy, hard for me to discipline.” She said, trying to restrain the boy. Kahn waved his hand, dismissing any assumed hostility.

 

“It’s alright, the boy has fire in his heart, that’s good.” The huge warlord replied. His eyes narrowed on the small cub who now sulked in his mothers grasp. “Come here boy.” The mother hesitated, but dare not defy a Wargoth’s command. She pushed the cub towards Kahn, who beckoned him forth. The young greenskin looked up at Kahn’s scarred face with curiosity.

 

“You certainly like to fight.” Kahn stated, the cub nodded. “Good. I’m sure that will serve you well in the future. But respect your mother boy, you are beneath her, you serve her.” The cub flashed his small tusks back at his mother, growling. Kahn chuckled. “You’re definitely a character, aren’t you?” The boy let out a laugh but tried to stifle it, aiming to maintain an intimidating façade. This caused Kahn to laugh once more. The mother watched the two interact with visible unease. “What was his fathers name?” The Wargoth asked, looked back to the Feroc.

 

“Uh,.. you wouldn’t have heard of him Wargoth, he was a lowly Orc.” Kahn shrugged.

 

“And what is your name, boy?” The cub looked up at Kahn and gave a reply – the first time he had spoke.

 

“Drokon.”

 

Another vacuum: The Albai Rex

 

Shortly after arriving in Vailor Rex Vrogak’Gorkil died due to an unknown illness, his son, Vrogash briefly took the Rexdom yet he soon left the Uzg shortly after. Phaedrus’Yar, the Wood Elven shaman and Targoth of the Iron Uzg declared a Keshaul – a council of Chieftains. The Keshaul didn’t last long however, as Phaedrus quickly claimed the title of Rex, becoming the first non-Orcish Rex in the entirety of the species history. The clans, including the Braduks, were outraged.

 

Rhino hooves thundered into Laz-Dur, the Orcish capital in Vailor as the Braduks kicked up a small sandstorm, riding into the Rex palace in a fury. Phaedrus sat alone in the palace upon the Rex’s throne, watching the Braduks enter. Kahn dismounted, Gorefather and Gorechild in hand and climbed the steps to the Rex’s throne, getting right up to Phaedrus. The Wood Elf looked up at the Braduk.

 

“Yes, Kahn?” He asked stoically.

 

“You know why I am here. No Elf can hold the seat of Rex. I will not kill you for your service to the Uzg, so I will honour our friendship by challenging you for the title. Deny me this, though, and you will die on the throne here and now.” Phaedrus rose, taking hold of his staff.

 

“Come then, to the arena.” Kahn and Phaedrus walked side by side to the arena outside the Rex palace. Taking their positions, the klomp was counted down and commenced. When the dust settled, Phaedrus stood victorious. Kahn rose to his feet.

 

The Braduks were the first clan to swear allegiance to Rex Phaedrus’Yar, other than the Yar clan themselves. The rest of the clan chiefs all challenged Phaedrus for Rex – Phaedrus won every time. Soon, Phaedrus stabilised the Iron Uzg and named Kahn and the Lur Wargoth Drak’Lur as twin Targoths, seeing Kahn’s talent as a veteran commander in battle, as well as his affinity for internal affairs, and in Drak, the Elf saw the Lur’s talent for espionage and cunning. Ghazkoth rose to the Krughai rank of Nob for his valour. Phaedrus abolished Slavery, believing it to be dishonourable.

 

As a Targoth, Kahn was immensely successful. He galvanised Orcish military matters, bringing in new methods of training that proved to be very effective. Additionally, his thoughts on the usefulness of tributaries proved a great asset to the Uzg – instead of having tributaries for just the Braduks, Kahn introduced them to the whole Iron Uzg which increased the Uzg’s food, arms and financial stocks. This system of tribute was incredibly beneficial for the Uzg, an example being such as when Shreck’Lak wanted to conquest the city of Aeroch’nor for settling in swamplands, Kahn took the Krughai to their gates and negotiated weekly payments of metals, woods and food products. Instead of wasting materials on a war, the Uzg gained countless more.

 

Many initially questioned Kahn’s methods as they did not follow the traditional ‘might makes right’ belief of the Orcs, but they proved fruitful in the end. Phaedrus noted this.

 

Phaedrus did not intend to be a permanent Rex however, he only wished for a worthy and capable challenger to arise and defeat him. The Wood Elf first believed that Orc to be Drak’Lur. But, believing Drak to be “A snake” with his own agenda, Phaedrus deemed the Lur not unworthy of Rexdom. His eyes then fell to Kahn.

 

“He’s ready for you, brother.” Ghazkoth said, poking his head into Kahn’s tent. The Wargoth nodded, his large frame rising. The two Braduks rode to the arena in the new Orcish city of Gundz’koth – a ramshackled glorified tent village – and dismounted before the crowd of Orc’s gathered. Amidst them stood the Albai Rex; Phaedrus’Yar. The curse of power had hardened him, made him stronger.

 

“We shall do as we did before, Kahn?” The Wood Elf asked. Kahn nodded.

 

“I challenge you for the title of Rex.” With no more words needing to be spoken, the two warlords entered the arena. Ghazkoth along with Drax, flanked by the Braduk clan watched on. The Nob of the Krughai counted down.

 

“Gahk! Dub! Ash! Klomp!” Ghazkoth shouted.

 

Kahn charged immediately, but Phaedrus used his superior speed to side step and strike the posterior of the Braduk’s neck. In a battering motion, Kahn swung his arm like a club, thumping the Rex’s jaw and sending him to the ground. Barreling forth, Kahn charged again and the prone Wood Elf, who rolled onto his heels and out of the way dodged once more. Having to skid to a stop, Kahn spun round to face the Rex, who launched a flurry of punches into his midsection. Kahn reached down, grabbing Phaedrus’ shoulders and in a lightening quick manoeuvre, headbutted him. The impact caused the Elf to fall onto his back. The Braduk Wargoth bent down and grabbed his Rex by the scruff, punching him across the eye with a fierce right hand. If Phaedrus had not had such heart, the klomp would’ve ended there. Yet the Elven Rex began to rise. Kahn wrapped his arms around the smaller being’s midsection as he did so, and suplexed him up and over his head. Phaedrus smashed into the ground – crumpling in a heap. Kahn stood victorious.

 

Helping Phaedrus up to his feet, Kahn placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Thank you, for all you have done for us.” Phaedrus nodded, returning the gesture.

 

“I’ll think I’ll take my leave for a bit now.” He said.

 

“Yes, you’ve earned a rest.” The two exchanged nods, and Phaedrus vacated the arena. Kahn looked at the cheering crowd around him. There he stood,

 

Rex Kahn’Braduk.

 

Act III - Iron and Fire

 

Rise: New heights

 

The Rex’s horn thundered across the sands, bellowing through the desert calling all clans from their respective corners of the Uzg to the Rex’s palace. Rex Kahn’Braduk sat upright and firm upon his throne, the Hammer of Braduk laid across his lap. Drax and Larty stood beside the throne as countless Keshig dotted the throne room.

 

The Braduks arrived first riding from the furthest corner of the desert, all mounted on their famous rhinos, led by Ghazkoth, the Braduk clan second in command. The largest orcs of the Iron Uzg took formation, headed by Ghazkoth as the giant clan flooded into the Rex Palace. Kahn smiled, watching his clan pile in. The huge Orc gave the Rex a nod, before taking his place next to Drax in front of the throne. 

 

If you blinked, you would have missed their arrival. The Lur clan came next from their fort in the heart of the sands, led by their Wargoth Drak'Lur. Riding their signature Lur wolves, the hunters dismounted and entered the throne room of the palace, met by their fellow Orcs. Drak walked up to Kahn and motioned for a grunt to bring forward a spear. It was a simple looking weapon, yet lethally efficient. For appearance was not of importance in the hunt, only skill and merit. Drak offered the spear to Kahn, pledging the Lurs to both his cause and the Iron Uzg as a whole.

 

Enter the Vanguard. Marching from the stone gates of Fort Raguk, the red Orcs arrived next with their Warchief Nagg'Raguk leading the way. Walking up the steps to the throne room as a unit, the Raguks entered, greeting their brothers. Nagg motioned for an axe to be passed to him before meeting Kahn at the throne. He offered the lusk to the Rex, the axe was terrifying in appearance, brilliantly crafted with bone ornaments covering its handle and butt. The Rex accepted it gladly as Nagg swore the Raguk's loyalty to both the Rex and to the banner of the Iron Uzg.

 

The heavy thudding of hooves thumped against the sand as the newly made Wargoth Duruh'Gorkil led the Gorkil clan from their home of Mt. Gorkil to the Rex Palace. Dismounting their warboars as they approached, the Feroc led the storied clan up into the throne room. The Rex watched them enter from the other side of the hall, and too watched Duruh unsheathe a large curved sword, the blade in the shape of a crescent moon, taking it off her back as she began to walk towards him. Numerous skulls dangled from the end of her offering, and the handle of the blade had the hollowed shell of a scorpion wrapped around it up until the cross-guard. Duruh pledged the Gorkil clan to the Rex and Iron Uzg alike. 

 

Warchief Malog'Yar led the fabled Yar clan from their dunes amongst an oasis to the Rex palace. As they entered, all the Braduks made a point to greet them as the Yars were the truest of blood relatives to them. The wise and honourable Warchief Malog took a book from one of his sons before making his way towards the Rex, sat on his throne. It was immensely large yet Malog found no qualms in carrying such a big tome. It was the storied history of the Orcish government, from Krugmar to the War Nation to the Iron Uzg. The wise Orc swore the Yar's allegiance to Rex Kahn'Braduk and to the Iron Uzg.

 

A distinct off smell began to float in the air. The Lak clan. The infamous and equally zealous Warchief Shreck'Lak led his clan from their swamps to the Rex palace, filling the present Orc's nostrils with the odor of the marsh-lands. The blue-ish orcs of Laklul fell into the throne room, with Shreck leading the pack. He wielded a long pole-axe covered in tribal markings and ornaments, as well as the symbol of Laklul itself. The Swamp lord offered the pole-axe to Kahn, subsequently swearing the Laks to the Rex's cause as well as the might of the Iron Uzg.

 

Kahn rose from his throne, the many tributes placed elaborately around the grand seat. Hammer of Braduk in hand, the hulking Rex dwarfed those in his presence in both size and atmosphere, he went on to speak.

 

“My people. Your offerings are appreciated, as is your support. I never wanted this position, yet here I stand. I stand, here, and I swear to you, the broken nation we are today we shall not be tomorrow. I ask only that you trust in me, we are more than what we are and I can take you all there if you but allow me. The realm will tremble before us, I swear to you here and now.” The cohort cheered in response. Kahn held up his hands, silencing them. “Infrastructure has suffered in recent years – this comes to an end. Drak, your talent for international relations is unrivaled in the Uzg. You will serve as my Dominus.” Drak nodded to the Rex, the Orcs around the Lur chief congratulating him. Kahn turned his focus to Ghazkoth. “Ghaz, your service as Nob in the Krughai and ability to command troops effectively has not gone unnoticed. I name you my Targoth.” The Orcs surrounding Ghazkoth patted him on the back, offering their respect. “Malog, your wisdom and knowledge of the spirits is priceless. For this, I will name you High Shaman.” Congratulatory offerings were made to the new Motsham. “Drax, your loyalty and service above all else is admirable, brother. You will command my Keshig.”

 

The Orcs cheered once more in glorious uproar, but Kahn motioned for them to silence again.

 

“I will not have inefficiency in my Uzg. Every clan will produce a weekly quota of materials to the Uzg. Iron, wood, food, weapons, armour - every week. Clans who prove fruitful will ascend the hierarchy, clans who do not, will be punished.” The Orc’s looked on as the Rex spoke, seeing the value in his words but clearly were not too keen on filling a quota box. Kahn grunted. “As a final word, I will not be overturning Phaedrus’ ban on slavery.” All the Orcs grumbled to one and other, a murmur hovering through the crowd.

 

“Shut your mouths!” Ghazkoth demanded. The crowd fell silence. Kahn continued.

 

“Our previous slavery system was dishonourable, we preyed upon the weak. Not only this, you are all yet to prove to me that you deserve slavery – you’ve grown stagnate and revolve only around combat and war. Prove to me that our culture is not lost, and I will reinstitute a more effective system of slavery. Until then, slavers will be whitewashed. Dismissed.” The clans piled out as only the Rex, Ghazkoth, Drax Larty and the Keshig remained.

 

“They didn’t like that.” Larty said as Kahn relaxed back onto his throne.

 

“Hard truths cut deep old friend. If all the Orcs live for is slavery and war we will never progress.” The Rex replied.

 

The new Dominus Drak’Lur began planting seeds of dissension amongst the unrest of the Orcs. He told the chiefs that if they supported him as Rex, he would bring back slavery and privilege raiding and other such actions of violence. Many Orcs flocked to his call – Drak was set to coup Kahn.

 

Making an impact: The Silver Letter

 

“My Rex.” A Krughai Nob said as he entered Kahn’s study. The Rex stood on his balcony looking out at the great sandy expanse bellow. He half turned his head, his long flowing war-braid dangling freely. “Wargoth Duruh wishes to speak with you.”

 

“I’ll meet with her in a moment.”

 

“Shall I prepare the throne room?” The Nob asked. Kahn grunted detestably.

 

“No, that wont be necessary.” Kahn descended from the Rex Palace to meet with the Gorkil Wargoth by a large fire that sat on one of the plateaus of the Orc capital. His massive form sat down on a wooden log as the Feroc Wargoth bowed her head in respect.

 

“Rex,”

 

“Dispense with the pleasantries Duruh, I’m just an Orc.” Duruh smiled, nodding.

 

“My Orcs tell me the High Elves have introduced slavery into their society. Whilst their methods aren’t as brutal as ours were, no doubt they’re equally as dishonourable. I thought you should know.” Kahn nodded, taking in the information.

 

“Thank you, Duruh. I’ll think on this.” The Gorkil bowed her head once more before departing. Kahn’s hand brushed across his stubbled jaw as he was quickly lost in thought.

 

Later that night, the Rex met with his closest confidants.

 

“Is it really worth the trouble?” Ghazkoth asked, his hands resting upon the grand war-table in the meeting room of the Rex palace.

 

“We’d be better off slaughtering the damned pointy ears, really.” Drax chimed in, almost salivating at the thought. Larty shook his head.

 

“War with Elves is not something we can afford. If the whispers are true, the Lur Wargoth Drak is trying to set up an uprising to depose Kahn, and we simply don’t have the men to sustain such a war.” The Goblin spoke truth.

 

“Enough.” Kahn finally responded. “If Drak wishes to step upon my toes he and the Lur’s will meet the same end as the Ugluks. But that is a matter for another time. Larty is right, war is not something we can manage right now, nor do I wish to plunge the Uzg into senseless combat when I’m trying to revive it’s culture and domestic life.”

 

“So we do nothing then?” Ghazkoth asked.

 

“No. We need to take this opportunity to show the world the Iron Uzg means business – that I am not like the Rex’s who came before me who simply disappeared to history. We need to make an impact.” Kahn fiddled with the arm of his chair.

 

“But how can we do so without war?” the youngest of the brothers, Drax, asked.

 

“The pretense of war, brother.” Kahn motioned to Larty. “Get a parchment and a pen.”

 

A letter was forged that was sent to the administrative office of the High Elves. This act would become legend, and the letter would become known as “The Silver Letter”. It read;

 

“Adressed to the person or persons with sharp ears.

 

My name is Kahn'Braduk, Rex of the Iron Uzg. You lead the nation of ‘Hail Hen Wh*res’, or something, correct? I am not in the habit of knowing the names of worthless runts, so forgive my ignorance. But your name is irrelevant. News has reached me that you pride yourselves on the act of slavery. This ends immediately. This dishonourable act of attempting to prove stronger and more fearsome than you actually are by engaging in things you do not understand has come to a close, should you wish to keep your lungs on the inside of your bodies. I am not in the habit of asking twice.

 

Abolish slavery and run home to your trees whilst you still can. This is your first, and only warning.

 

I know the nature of the High Elves though. No doubt you will brush off my threats and assume a 'tough' stance. Do so and you will begin to know my nature. 

 

And since we are making contact in such a formal manner and exchanging pleasantries, I would like to ask one favour of you, Elves.

 

Try me.

 

Kahn'Braduk, Rex of the Iron Uzg”

 

“You really think they’re going to listen to you, brother?” Ghazkoth asked. Kahn smiled.

 

“Of course not. But it will give us just cause to arrive at their doorstep.” The High Elves smugly dismissed Kahn’s words – as he predicted. Reports of High Elves saying that Kahn was “in for a short Rexdom” and that the Orcs should “just be crusaded already” reached the Rex’s ear. The following morning, Kahn rallied a warband. Consisting of the Braduk clan and the Gorkils, the Orcs set out and rode for the High Elves.

 

Arriving at the city, the Elves immediately shut the gates on the group, fearful for the consequences of their actions. The Rex demanded that their leader be brought forth or blood will be spilled. Eventually, the High Elven leader emerged and met with Kahn, Ghazkoth and Duruh. An agreement was made – the High Elves would abolish slavery and as long as Kahn lived, never would it return. Also, for their insolence, the High Elves would pay a weekly tribute of iron and wood to the Iron Uzg. And like that, the smug Elves fell silent, bent over the knee of the Orcs.

 

This act put the whole world on notice: The Orcs were back, and not to be trifled with. All dissension in the Uzg dissipated as this act of power rallied all Orcs fully to Kahn’s banner – he would rule utterly unchallenged for countless decades to come. Drak’Lur had lost all support for his coup, the Uzg now favouring Kahn. Moreover, the Kharajyr quickly offered to become tributaries out of respect to the Iron Uzg, the Kha Mukar and Kahn becoming good friends in the process.

 

A similar situation occurred with the Dark Elves – several Dark Elfs thieved in the Uzg, and in response Kahn sent “The Oynx Letter” to their leader. Like the High Elves, the Dark Elves initially refused the Rex’s demands, but after he, flanked by his warbandm arrived at their doorstep they became tributaries too. This pattern continued for the adolescent days of Kahn’s Rexdom, although eventually people stopped refusing the Uzg and simply became tributaries. By the conclusion of his Rexdom, Kahn had made tributaries of the city-state of Aeroch’Nor, the High Elves, the Dark Elves, the Wood Elves, the Kharajyr, the Crimson Edict, the Caliphate, the Druids, the Dwarves, countless other small guilds and even at one point, Oren. The influx of material wealth made the Uzg rich, but it was not only from the outside that the Uzg flourished – it began to flourish from within.

 

Revitalized and in full support of their Rex the Orc’s delivered the quotas and production of material goods, weapons and other armourments sky-rocketed. As a reward, Kahn reintroduced a more effective and honourable slavery system, which meant that slaves were put to work more often than they were put to slaughter. Not only that, Kahn revived much of the lost Orcish culture that had stagnated due to the greenskins obsession with war. The Orcs finally flourished, and the Iron Uzg was finally what it was meant to be.

 

To make an example: A lesson in biology

 

The clan chiefs rose as Kahn entered the council chamber of Rex palace, flanked by Ghazkoth and Drax. The trio made their way to the end of the table where Kahn eased down into his large chair/throne, as Ghaz reclined back into the seat for the Targoth. Drax remained firmly planted by Kahn’s chairs side, as well as countless more Keshig stationed around the chamber. It was their weekly meeting. The party went over their many matters and as the meeting concluded, Ghazkoth perked up.

 

“Oh skah, I almost forgot. There is a settlement of High Elves that are refusing to pay tribute to the Uzg.”

 

“The main one?” Dominus Drak asked, scratching his chin.

 

“No.” Ghaz replied, “But they are apart of the High Elf nation and are tributaries. They’ve missed two weeks and are rumoured to be trying to bring back slavery just to spite us.” Kahn pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“Well that’s not going to fly.” The Rex said plainly.

 

“What are we to do? Duruh’Gorkil asked the group, her eyes falling to the Rex.

 

“We could raid them into submission, hur.” The Raguk Warchief Nagg proposed. Kahn shook his head, looking to Malog’Yar.

 

“Malog, you’re a Witchdoctor, no?”

 

“Yes, Rex.” The Motsham said, nodding and leaning forward upon the table.

 

“How are your plague-making abilities?”

 

“Orgon is the main spirit I worship…so quite good if I may say so.”

 

“Good.” Kahn said, clapping his hands together. “Prepare me a plague, I want it ready by the end of the week. Be sure to have an antidote prepared.”

 

“Of course my Rex.” Malog nodded, the look on his face making it obvious that he was already mentally preparing a hex. The rest of the clan chiefs looked perplexed, but accepted Kahn’s word.

 

Several days went passed before Malog returned with a prepared plague. If ingested, the person would break out with boils, the pus of which was acidic. Moreover, after a time, the victim would go blind. Kahn called upon Ghazkoth and Drax.

 

“You two will lead a small party of the Keshig’s most elite to sneak into the settlement. There, you will release the plague into their water supplies.” Ghaz and Drax grinned.

 

“Easy enough.” The Targoth said. Drax nodded.

 

“What if we’re spotted?”

 

“Don’t be.” The war party departed at dusk.

 

“It smells of perfume. Skah’n hell, it’s worse than a rhino patty.” Ghazkoth grumbled, readjusting his cloak. He, Drax and the three Keshig that accompanied them wore dark hooded cloaks to help mask them under the cover of darkness as they slinked around the settlement’s streets in the early hours of the morning.

 

“This way.” Drax motioned for the group to follow him as the eventually reached the centre of the settlement where their many wells resided. “We need to be careful not to spill the hex, and to distribute it across all of these may take a while.” Time passed slowly for the Orcs as they carried out their task, but Ghazkoth was disturbed by a voice softly speaking from behind him.

 

“Who are you?” It said in a low mild tone. Ghaz’s large form spun round to see a child before him. Without hesitation, the giant Targoth wrapped one hand around the boys mouth and clasped the crown of his head with the other. He squeezed, and the child’s skull caved in. A woman came running around the corner

 

“AHHH!” She cried. His mother, no doubt, she went to call for help and Ghazkoth was too far from her to silence her in time, but he heard the wisping twirls of metal flying through the air pass his ear as a dagger quickly plunged into her eye. She fell to the ground, dead. He turned to see Drax chuckling.

 

“Hurry it up.” Ghazkoth barked, but he couldn’t help but join in the laughter. With their mission completed, the war-party returned to the Uzg.

 

The clan chiefs gathered for their weekly meeting in the council chambers, and once they had concluded their regular and more pressing matters, Ghazkoth perked up.

 

“Oh, yeah that High Elf settlement wont be giving us any trouble any more.” The Targoth stated, folding his arms.

 

“Whats happened?” Duruh’Gorkil asked.

 

“A plague fell upon their city. Their citizens broke out with boils, the pus of which was acidic. Many of them were rendered blind. I took a clutch of Krughai and was able to convince them to reconsider their disobedience to the Iron Uzg, and they quickly conceded. They’re well now, but skah you should’ve seen them.” Ghazkoth explained, exchanging glances with Drax. A silence descended upon the room before the realisation of what had actually occurred dawned upon those present. All eyes fell to Kahn, who was simply fiddling with the arm of his chair.

 

“A tragedy, to be sure. But they’ve learned their lesson.” He began to chuckle, as did the rest of the Orcs.

 

The settlement never disobeyed again.

 

Uniting the South: Come together, right now

 

The Holy Oren Empire, ever the powerful nation had continued to grow as such at an exponential rate. They had become the super-power of the realm, and all other nations took notice. The southern nations of Vailor banded together to rival the Empire’s power, creating a great coalition of countries. It wasn’t long before the Iron Uzg was called to join the fray.

 

Rex Kahn’Braduk sat on his throne, his eyes following the young Orc who came running into the palace carrying a letter. Handing it to the Rex, the grunt quickly retreated from the throne room. The letter bared the seal of one of the southern powers, and the contents invited the Uzg to join the coalition and effectively ally with the south of Vailor in response to Oren’s growing power. Kahn was not amused. The Rex decided to meet with his Dominus – who’s job it was to handle foreign affairs – to discuss the matter.

 

“I’d advise we join, Rex.” Drak said, looking up to Kahn upon completing to read the letter. The Rex grunted.

 

“I’d not have us fight in a foreigners war.”

 

“There is no war, currently. It’s more for protection.” Drak replied, handing the letter back to the Rex.

 

“This I know, look – the one who penned the letter signed themselves as ‘Supreme Chancellor’ of the coalition. They would have authority over us, and that I will not have.” Kahn crossed his arms.

 

“Authority or not, we could use the safety net. Should Oren try to crusade us, and there rumours that that is there plan, we’d fall.”

 

“Thank you, for your council, Drak. That will be all.” Drak nodded, turning to depart.

 

“Rex.”

 

By noon the next day Kahn dispatched an emissary to the Supreme Chancellor of the coalition, stating that the Uzg would join it. And so it was, the south of Vailor united together as one – it would not last long.

 

Around this time Kahn and Ghazkoth received blessings from shamans; Kahn being blessed by Enrohk and Ghaz by Leyd. Kahn’s pre-existing abnormally higher levels of bloodlust had caught the spirit of war’s attention, and Kahn would go on to become Enrohk’s champion and most favoured son, becoming his avatar in the mortal realm. Ghazkoth too became a favoured son of Leyd, his strength and power unrivalled. It was during this period that Kahn had the sword of Enrohk – War Maker -, forged. It was blessed and imbued with Enrohks rage, so that it hummed in terrible fury whenever it was wielded.

 

The debt is repaid: Blood Eagle

 

A stillness lingered over the desert of the Iron Uzg one night, the Braduk clan had been summoned from their badlands into the heart of the sands. Ghazkoth had heard reports of an old human male who once held military command located in the west of Vailor. Kahn had a hunch of whom this man was, he had heard rumours, and ordered Ghaz to take a clutch of Krughai to find and capture him. It didn’t take long.

 

Kahn, surrounded by the Braduks, stood upon a wooden elevation with two wooden poles standing vertically protruding from it. He wore only a white robe, with a knife and axe attached to a cloth belt. The Rex’s breathing was laboured, the anticipation building. The rhino lords watched on. Ghazkoth eventually emerged, dragging a hooded man – frail in appearance, clearly aged and withered. The Targoth shoved the old man down before Kahn, the hulking Rex offering a grunt.

 

“Remove his hood.” The Rex said, his voice low yet full of passion and rage. Ghazkoth knelt, ripping the hood off the mans head. The elderly human squirmed, his old eyes darting about. His gaze settled on Kahn.

 

“You-…you..” Kahn towered over him – it was the mercenary who had imprisoned Kahn decades ago and killed his life mate Grohla. The two were ‘reunited’. When the reality of the situation dawned on the old man, one could smell the fear he emitted. “I’m sorry I’m so-..I’m sorry I-I..”

 

“Get him ready.” Kahn ordered, clenching his fists. Several Braduk grunts grabbed the man who recoiled in terror, yet his strength had left him long ago. Promptly the grunts tied his each of his arms to one of the wooden poles on the platform and forced him down to his knees. Kahn’s heavy foot steps thudded behind him as the Rex knelt, taking the knife from his belt. He leaned in close and said in a hushed tone, “Remember little man, you did this.”

 

“Please…I-I-I-I..” Without a moment to spare, Kahn plunged the blade into the old mans back, deep enough to reach bone yet not too deep so to be a mortal wound. The human spattered blood on the wood before him. Slicing down the mans back, Kahn removed the blade just as he reached the top of his buttock. Handing the knife off, the Rex went on to clutch the long open wound and pried the flesh open so that the human’s spine and ribs were exposed, bits of muscle and tissue came with it. By this point, the elderly man could no longer cry in pain – only a silent scream plastered across his face. Taking the axe, Kahn wiped blood splatter from his eyes before systematically chopping at the mans ribs where they connected to the spine – they popped and splintered as they all separate, bits of bone shard flying off into the sand. Vains on the man’s face looked as if they were going to burst, and a blood vessel within his eye did causing the white surrounding his iris to flood red. With the ribs now sprung open, Kahn handed off the axe. He then dug his large hands into the gaping hole on the mans back and took hold of his lungs. In one swift motion, he ripped them free and in a contrary movement, proceeded to stab them onto his protruding ribs. Blood Eagled.

 

Kahn rose as the man quickly bled out and suffocated, life fading from him – and the debt was repaid. The Rex nodded to Ghazkoth - who unhooked a curved serrated hunting blade. The Targoth stepped forth, stabbing it into the humans corpse and running it along sideways within his gut, opening up his stomach. He then dug his hands in and ripped out the full length of his intestines, which went on to spill onto the floor.

 

“What shall we do with the body?” A grunt asked.

 

“Crucify it by the gates” Ghazkoth replied. Kahn’s white robes ran red, the Rex departed to be alone in the desert for the rest of the night.

 

To start a new life: Farewell to a brother

 

“You’ve got to let me go!” Drax thundered, the mad Orc clearly agitated. He had requested to meet with Kahn in the Braduk fort of Mokraghul to pitch him his idea. Ghazkoth, Larty and many other Braduks were present.

 

“You still are yet to tell me how the skah you plan to get there.” Kahn retorted, his patience was beginning to wear thin. Drax had heard murmurs of a passage unbeknownst to the rest of the world that led back to the old land of Aegis. If it were true, that would mean that he could return to the destroyed Braduk homeland of Kenuk and resettle it. Kahn could not see the point considering Aegis – if this passageway even existed – was in ruins, but Drax refused to budge.

 

“Our new shaman says he can take us there. Come on brother, cant you imagine Kenuk in all its glory? It was the stuff of legend.”

 

“Yes, legend. Legends are of the past Drax.” Ghazkoth added in.

 

“I’m not saying you all come with me. But I can feel the call to find our original homeland.” Drax gave in riposte. Kahn had had enough.

 

“Fine. Go if you must. You expect to settle a new land by yourself?”

 

“No, I was planning on-..”

 

“I will not order any to go with you. Only volunteers will partake.” Kahn decreed. To his surprise, some decently sized sum did opt to join Drax on his quest. The next day a small fleet of ships prepared to set sail into oblivion.

 

“Don’t look too pissed off brother.” Drax jibed to Kahn. The Rex couldn’t hide his smirk, his younger brother punching him in the arm.

 

“I hope you find what you are looking for, and that we may meet again some day.” They exchanged nods and parted ways. Ghaz stepped forward.

 

“You mad skah.” The Targoth laughed, patting Drax on the shoulders. “Don’t get killed out there, hey?”

 

“I’m more likely to kill myself than to die at the hands of another, you should know that by now.” Ghazkoth chuckled heartily, saying his goodbyes. Larty was last.

 

“If you make it to Kenuk, spread these.” Larty said, offering Drax a tiny urn. It contained a portion of the ashes of the great Mokrag’Braduk. “So that I may keep my promise.”

 

“Of course, Larty. Thank you, for everything. Good bye old friend.” The two smiled and bid each other farewell. Before long, the ships pulled out from the port and disappeared over the horizon. Ghazkoth moved to stand beside Kahn.

 

“You seem angry, Kahn.” The Targoth questioned. Kahn grunted.

 

“We aren’t children any more Ghaz, we have duties, and he’s running off to chase a fantasy.”

 

“Don’t let the burden of power overshadow our traditions brother. Drax is doing what all Braduks have been charged to do since Kenuk fell centuries ago – to found a new homeland.” Kahn huffed, then sighed.

 

“You’re right. Come on, let’s head back.”

 

The Monsters mouth: Its suicide, you know

 

Word had reached the Iron Uzg of a beast named ‘The Fleugal’ that had been terrorizing Vailor, killing all it came across. Many a nation’s party were slaughtered upon trying to defeat this beast. It ran rampant for months and was eventually deemed unkillable, and all were warned to stay away. A worthy challenge, Kahn thought, so he mobilised a large force of Krughai to find and slay this monster, which was last spotted in the swamplands belonging to the Uzg tributary settlement of Aeroch’Nor.

 

The Krughai’s anticipation for this klomp, dubbed a suicide mission by the weak and cowardly that had tried and failed before them grew by the second. The Rex signalled for his Targoth Ghazkoth’Braduk to rally the troops and board their ship, ‘Da Zquidz Peepa’. War drums began to beat, and as the ship pulled out from the docks of the Uzg, sailing to that of the Cloud Temple, many who witnessed the passing of the Green Tide fled the banks, fearing for their lives. Yet it was not pinkskin blood that they would bath in on this day, it was the Fleugals.

 

As the Krughai horde passed through the tranquille docks of the Cloud Temple, onlooker’s mouths were agape, watching the march of the Iron Uzg. Travelling to Aeroch’nor, the Orcs would then make their ways through the swamps before a guttural screech punched itself through the air. Through the dense shrubbery, its pinkish flesh could be seen.

 

The Fleugal was waiting for them. Mounting immediate defensive positions, the Krughai saw that many of the ballista’s that Aeroch’nor had set up were destroyed, left in ruins. Slime slathered across the ground with every movement the Fleugal made, yet it did not approach the Orcs. Instead, it continued to screech. The Rex commanded Ghazkoth take a squadron to move around and flank the giant beast, whilst he and the rest of the Orcs would lead the vanguard. With out a moment’s hesitation, Kahn, his axes Gorechild and Gorefather in hand, led the charge.

 

The battle commenced with roars and demands of blood from the Orcs. They were quickly met. Kahn leapt at the Fleugal, cleaving off a tentacle in a single strike. Ghazkoth and his unit began launching javelins at the rear of the monster, whilst the Huntsgoth of the Uzg Eath’Lur led a group to physically climb onto of the beast.

 

Malog’Yar, apart of Ghazkoth’s battalion ducked as a tentacle swung for him, roaring in defiance. Another one came, and the Motsham did not allow it the mercy of missing, instead, his axe struck deep into the tentacle, causing it to convulse violently. With a vicious stomp to part it from the stem, Malog ended the tendrils misery. Ghazkoth had found himself stuck underneath a tentacle, the slime oozing across his body. The big Targoth had enough of being crushed, and lifted the heavy tendril from his lower body, lodged his axe into it and proceeded to rip the rest of the thing off away from itself. On the other side of the creature, Eath had arrived at top of the Fleugals head, and he and the Krughai began to shank its skin whilst he worked on the eyes. The Lur began striking his axe at one of the eye’s stem, but in response the Fleugal sent one of it’s tentacle into the Huntsgoth side, sending him flying into the shrubbery bellow. Ghazkoth now freed and axe in hand mounted the Fleugal and aimed to finish what Eath started. In single swings, the Targoth sliced two of the Fleugals eyes free from their stems and proceeded to rip the third away. The monster was now fighting blind.

 

Kahn had charged directly at the Fleugal’s jaw, flying through the air and into the flesh, his axes lodging deep and destroying the bone due to his power – the Fleugal physically reeling back in pain in response to the Rex’s assault. He then scaled the monster to rendezvous with the rest of the Krughai up top. It was at this point that Aeroch’nor arrived, and began firing what ballista’s were left.

 

Ghazkoth had the idea of burrowing through the Flegual from the top down, and as such, began mangling the flesh of its skull with his war axe. Each heavy handed, brutal strike ripped open another wound, breaking bone and tearing tendons. However, before any of them could continue to act, their attention was drawn to Eath’Lur, who had found himself on top of the Fleugal’s largest tentacle. It swung violently but the Elder Shaman held on. Waiting for the perfect moment, Eath drove his spear into the flesh of the largest tentacle. It is unknown if Huntsgoth Eath’Lur struck some form of nerve, or had a foreign agent washed over his spearhead, but the tentacle collapsed on impact, resulting in Krughai arriving beside it and cleaving it in two. The Fleugal let out a vicious roar.

 

A tentacle shot up and wrapped itself around Kahn, suspending him high into the air. Bloodlusted, the Rex began hacking at the monster’s flesh and quickly ripped himself free, falling to the ground with a thud. Regaining his stance, he saw that despite the immense amount of damage befallen to the Fleugal, it was nowhere close to death. The Krughai had inflicted much more damage to it than any who had fought it previously no doubt, yet the Fleugal raged on.

 

That’s when the Rex saw his opening – literally – the Fleugal’s jaws wide open. He ran forth and soared into the air, flying into the open mouth of the Fleugal. Landing on the inner rim of the gargantuan creatures lips, Kahn struck his axe hard, knocking several large teeth out of his way. He then leapt down the monsters throat and landed inside it.

 

It was dark, and the acid from inside ate away at the Rex’s armour and quickly his skin. But he saw all he needed. The Fleugal’s heart. With a mere few swings, Rex Kahn’Braduk detached the heart from the body, and the Fleugal fell limp, sagging around him. The acid began burning into his skin – it would soon kill him if his exposure to it were prolonged any further. Kahn exhaled, grabbing the heart. A large pair of hands grabbed him, pulling him free. His eyes opened to the sight of his brother Ghazkoth standing over him, the Targoth helped him to his feet.

 

Kahn rose, the mighty Krughai before him, hovering around the carcase of the beast thought to be un killable. He held the heart of the Fleugal up with pride, as the Orcs all cheered in victory. They had done what all others had failed to do. The Fleugal was slain.

 

“Rex Kahn,” A womans voice spoke. It was the leader of Aeroch’Nor, a small young woman, fair in complexion. She had worked with Kahn, serving as a tributary to him since his days as a Targoth. “The coalition calls a meeting, they’d like to summon you.”

 

“Summon? Pfft.” Ghazkoth scoffed. Kahn grunted, still clutching the Fleugals heart.

 

“They dare summon me?” The Rex scowled at Drak’Lur. “This is exactly what I meant, they want power over me and the Uzg. I’ll answer these pinkskins summons, yes..” Drak kept his gaze pasted to the ground, as did the rest of the Orcs so to not suffer the enraged Rex’s fury. In truth, the coalition was likely just engaging in a formality yet Kahn; still bloodlust took their summons as a grave insult. There would be consequences.

 

Riding to the meeting point Kahn took a large portion of the Krughai with him so to make a point. When he arrived, he brought his rhino to a halt, the Fleugal’s heart dangling from his saddle. The Rex was still awashed in acid and blood. The many leaders of the coalition looked on in either disdain or fear, or both.

 

“Ah..Rex Kahn’Braduk.” A pale elf proclaimed, his platinum hale matted to his forehead beneath his crown – the chancellor of the coalition. Without a word, Kahn detached the monsters heart from his saddle, and tossed it at the feet of the coalition leaders before dismounting.

 

“I will stand for your skah no longer. From this day forth the Iron Uzg leaves your petty alliance, and I dare any of you to stand against us.” The Orcs behind the Rex roared. The pinkskins watched on, speechless. One of the Dwarven representatives in the coalition broke the silence.

 

“I’ll not have this beast speak to us this way. Allow me to teach him a lesson!” The stowt requested, his thick accent bludgeoning his words. Ghazkoth growled, dismounting.

 

“Let me put this midget down Kahn.” The Targoth said, eyeing the Dwarf. Kahn shook his head, disarming himself.

 

“No, hes mine.” The Dwarf dropped his weapons and charged at the Rex who proceeded to scoop him up by the scruff and machine gun punch him to unconsciousness. He flung the lifeless Dwarf’s body beside the Fleugal heart. ”Is there another challenger?” None would partake, so the Orcs left. The Iron Uzg had left the coalition, in stunning fashion.

 

Mercy: A young bull runs free

 

Kahn sat in his study, a large stone desk stretching before him. The Yazgurten of the Uzg stood before him recounting the weekly quotas and tributes the Uzg had received. Production and resources was the highest it had been in decades. Larty hobbled into the room, a distressed look plaguing his old face.

 

“Kahn, a moment if you could.” The ancient Goblin requested. Kahn nodded, dismissing the Yazgurten.

 

“What is it Larty?”

 

“You remember that Ugluk you and Ghaz killed in Athera?” The Goblin asked, sitting down. Kahn’s brow perked up.

 

“We killed many Ugluks in Athera.” The Rex chuckled, as did Larty.

 

“Pok’s kid.” Larty specified. Kahn gave a nod.

 

“Mhrm, what of him?”

 

“You reckon he fathered any children?”

 

“I doubt it – he was old when we got him and he’d just returned to the Uzg. Plus, he was a lowly Orc, no one would’ve heard of hi-…” Kahn’s voice trailed off, his memory recalling his time on the Orc ship during the trip to Vailor.

 

“What?” Larty asked, looking up at the Rex.

 

“Years ago, I came across a Feroc, she had a son. She refused to tell me her mates name and was extremely anxious when I spoke with her boy.”

 

“Boy, so the cub was young.”

 

“Yes, barely out of infancy.” Kahn replied.

 

“It’d fit the timeline of it all.” The two sat in thought for a moment before Kahn called for the Keshig stationed at the entrance to his study. They walked in, bowing their heads to the Rex. Kahn sighed.

 

“I want you to investigate this Feroc under the guise of friendship – do not reveal yourselves to be under my command. Slander my name even, if it means gaining her trust. She should have a child, a young Orc named Drokon. Get her to speak Drokon’s father’s name.” The Keshig nodded in response. Kahn leant forward, “None are to know of your doings, understood?”

 

“Understood.”

 

“Understood.”

 

A few days over a fortnight went by before Kahn summoned the Keshig back to his study. No other Keshig were stationed on guard this evening, and only the two Orcs, Kahn, Ghazkoth and Larty sat in the room.

 

“Keshig, report.” Kahn ordered. One of the Orcs spoke;

 

“We made contact with the Feroc and began building a relationship with her, earning her trust through helping her out – she being the only one responsible for a young Orc.”

 

“Tell me about the boy.” Kahn inquired. The other Keshig responded;

 

“He’s still very young, barely into his teens. She called him Drokon.” The three Braduks all exchanged glances.

 

“Did she speak of his father?” Larty asked. The Keshig nodded.

 

“Yes, after a time. She seemed quite reluctant but she said his name was Ugkop, and that he was killed in Athera shortly after the two of them mated.” Kahn and Ghazkoth growled simultaneously.

 

“Thank you,” Kahn said, “That’ll be all.” The Keshig were dismissed and vacated the study. Ghazkoth and Larty moved around to the front of the table and sat in front down before the Rex.

 

“So it’s him.” Ghazkoth said rather plainly. The other two nodded in agreement.

 

“The boy has to die.” Kahn replied, resting his hands on the table, Larty’s head tilted.

 

“Does he, though.” Kahn and Ghazkoth both stared at the Goblin. “Hear me out…like you say, he’s a boy. The sins of his father, his grandfather and all his ancestors should not fall on his shoulders. He has done nothing to warrant his murder.”

 

“Murder, you’d call it murder? I’d call it slaughter.” Ghazkoth snapped back, giving off a snarl.

 

“Be that as it may, spare the boy. He’s done us no harm, and chances are he knows not of his lineage to the Ugluks anyway.” The elder Goblin pleaded. Kahn shook his head.

 

“His ancestors killed our women, our children, betrayed us when we were loyal to them. I swore that I would kill any Ugluk that lives, and I intend to keep that promise.” The Rex would not be swayed. Larty however, persisted.

 

“I was there all those centuries ago when the Ugluks betrayed us. You don’t have to stoop to their level by killing a child, Kahn. Be better.”

 

“No.” The Rex rose from his seat as he spoke with Ghazkoth following thereafter. “A Braduk never forgets. Ever.”

 

Kahn and Ghazkoth rode in the dwindling hours of the night as the sun was beginning to start its ascension back into the sky to give birth to another day. Only the two of them travelled this time, no Krughai, no Keshig – no Larty. They arrived soon at the Ferocs blarg, dismounting with weapons in hand. The house was quiet, silent even.

 

“Knock it down.” Kahn ordered, as Ghazkoth’s giant boot thumped into the door and pushed it off its hinges. The Targoth stepped into the dimly lit blarg, Kahn following suit.

 

“Skah’n empty.” Ghaz grunted. Kahn held a finger to his lips, calling for silence. An eerie quietness fell over the house for several minutes until a faint clink kissed the air, coming from the corner of the main room. Ghazkoth and Kahn looked to one and other, the latter nodding to the former. Ghazkoth moved to the source of the noise – a rug laid spread across the ground. Ripping it asunder, the beastly Targoth revealed a trap door upon the sandstone floor. Kahn nodded once again, and rather than lift the trap door up and open, Ghazkoth plunged his armoured fist through and took hold of a body – in a proceeding motion he then heaved the body out. It was the Feroc. She hit the ground with a thud.

 

“Get away!” She shouted, staggering to her feet albeit unbalanced. She clutched a crude dagger. “Back! I’m warning you!”

 

“Where is your Ugluk-spawn, Feroc?” Kahn questioned. She gave a shriek, lunging at Kahn with the knife. Ghazkoth grabbed her armed arm, holding it firmly and struck her across the jaw with the hilt of his axe knocking a tusk or two loose.

 

“Answer him.” Demanded Ghazkoth. She’d offer no such response, and went on to slash the Targoth across the cheek. If it were any other Orc, they would’ve been sent into a rage in response, or at the very least given off the impression of some sort of emotion. Ghazkoth however, merely – whilst expressionless – pinned the Ferocs arm against the wall and cleaved his axe into her wrist, removing her hand. It fell to the ground in a heap of blood. The Feroc yelped wildly in pain.

 

“I hate asking twice.” Kahn merely said. But the Feroc refused. Kahn gave a sigh. “Make it quick, Ghaz.” Ghazkoth promptly lodged his axe into her skull, killing her. “Skahs sake.” The Rex irked, visibly frustrated. Ghazkoth wiped blood from his face.

 

“I’ll turn this skah-hole upside down to find the runt.” Kahn grunted and stepped out of the blarg, looking out at the sandy expanse. The Rex folded his arms – the sun was beginning to rise. That is when he saw a lone rider off in the distance. Small, marking him young in years, astride…a bull. Drokon. Kahn glanced over his shoulder to see if Ghazkoth had emerged – he had not. He turned his attention back to Drokon riding off into the sunset. Larty was right; the sins of his ancestors should not condemn the boy, Kahn thought. He would make no pursuit. Drokon soon disappeared beyond the horizon. Ghazkoth stepped out of the blarg.

 

“Nothing. He’s not there.” Kahn smirked to himself.

 

“We must’ve just missed him.”

 

Days of future past: Heroes in their cradle

 

News of a young Raguk grunt’s success met the ear of Rex Kahn. His name was Kharak’Raguk. Youthful and full of vigor, Kharak had proven to be a capable warrior and an Orc with great ambition, and where the Raguk Warchief Nagg would rather spend his days raiding, Kharak focused on restoring the clans honour and making them as efficient as possible. Kahn noted this.

 

Also around this time a Feroc, Lukra, joined the Braduk clan. She quickly took to their unique and intricate traditions and became like family, loyal and steadfast.

 

Iron and Snow: Before the blizzard

 

Aelthir Tundrak, a high-ranking member of the Southern Vailor Coalition and Grand Prince of the Snow Elves of Fenn requested to meet with Rex Kahn’Braduk to discuss the Orc’s interactions with many of the Coalition nations. Kahn agreed.

 

Sitting on his throne with War Maker at his side Kahn watched as Aelthir slowly entered the palace accompanied by a second Snow Elf. There was a clear look of hesitation upon the Grand Prince’s face. They passed many of the Orc’s who scattered around the palace, desiring to see the exchange. As he arrived at the foot of the throne, Aelthir cranked his head up to meet the gaze of the Rex, before offering a bow.

 

“Rex Kahn,” he said in courteous yet slightly shaky tone. “Thank you for agreeing to meet.” Kahn leaned an elbow on the arm of his throne, using his hand to support his head.

 

“I think given the circumstances we can get right to the point. What do you want, Elf?” The Grand Prince swallowed.

 

“Your men raid Coalition lands, kill Coalition citizens. We accepted your recoil from the alliance, in however unsavoury a fashion it was, but we will not accept this.” Kahn grunted, eyeing the Prince.

 

“Ah, so you come to my lands to make demands of me?”

 

“No, no demands. We’d like to request your men cease in their activities, for a mutually beneficial end.” Aelthir replied, clasping his hands behind his back. “If you all do not, we will be forced to take action.”

 

“Oh really?” Kahn mused, leaning forward. “I will say it’s big of you to come to the desert and make threats. I only hope that one day you do not come to regret them. That’ll be all, Elf.” The Rex waved his hand, dismissing the Snow Elves – they were quickly ushered out. Kahn sat back in the throne for a moment, thinking. He motioned for a Krughai grunt to come close. “Call the clan chiefs for a meeting. Now.”

 

“Of course Rex, at once.” The grunt said, hurrying to the Rex’s horn. The clan chiefs were promptly summoned and a meeting was convened.

 

“Who among you have led raids against the coalition?” The Rex questioned, none answered. His hands thudded against the table. “Cut the bullskah and make this easy. I have ordered no Krughai nor Keshig raids against coalition lands, the only others who could’ve authorised such things sit before me here and now.” Warchief Shreck’Lak raised his hand.

 

“I made threats to Aeroch’Nor, saying I would conquest them for settling in swamplands.” Kahn growled. “But,” the Swampgoth continued, “it was more of a joke than anything. I never raided anyone.” Kahn grunted, nodding to the Lak.

 

“Who then?” Kahn eyed the rest of the chiefs. “Your’re gonna tell me the spirits raided them then?”

 

“I’ve led raids against the Caliphate.” Drak’Lur conceded. “Only a few, but yes, raids nonetheless.” The Raguk Warchief Nagg spoke next.

 

“Yeah, I’ve been leading raids too.” The red Orc said.

 

“Against who?”

 

“Well, all of them.” Nagg said, scratching his temple. Kahn rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 

“It ends now. You are all to halt your raids until further notice. We can’t handle the Coalition attacking us, nor could we handle Oren. Keep your swords in your sheathes, are we clear?” The chiefs nodded. “Very good.”

 

The day the Uzg burned: The raid

 

The gazelle gently grazed upon the shrubbery that lay before it, keeping a weary glance at the trees a regular occurrence. It had become separated from it’s herd – the reason why it did not know. It almost seemed as if it had been forced away. In any case, the majestic creature was tired and desired nourishment, and so it fed.

 

Kahn knelt beside Krom at an arms distance, the two hidden by an esconsement of trees and bushes. Krom, bow in hand pulled back the drawstring and lined up his shot. He turned to his father,

 

“Eye on the kill.” Kahn quickly corrected. Krom’s gaze fell back to the gazelle – sunlight pierced through the tree leaves that hanged overhead in this dense forest, creating an illuminating glow on the animal. Krom took a deep breath, and then released the arrow. A killing shot.

 

The gazelle’s lifeless head dangled freely as it was carried back to the desert, it’s limbs attached to two poles of wood – the weight of which was shared by Kahn and Krom. On the journey back father and son discussed many things, particularly leadership and the sacrifices one must make when in power. As the terrain they walked made the change from grass to sand a distinct smell of smoke filled the two Braduk’s nostrils. It wasn’t until they grew closer that they saw to their horror – the Uzg was on fire.

 

Kahn and Krom dropped their game and unsheathed their weapons, running to the city. Dwarves and a few pale Elves slaughtered Orcs, it was a raid. The Rex came across Ghazkoth who was knee deep in pinkskin blood, at present caving in the skull of a Snow Elf.

 

“How many have we lost?” Kahn shouted to his brother, slaying a Dwarf that approached. They regrouped with several other Orcs, fighting their way back into the city.

 

“Too many, it’s the coalition.’ Ghazkoth replied. The gate shut and the lingering coalition members who remained behind the walls were put down. Kahn looked at the littered Orcish dead, giving off a snarl.

 

“Go,” Kahn said to Krom, “Find your brothers.” Krom made haste and went to look for Baine and Gorhan. “They attack us unprovoked!” The Rex growled, pummelling his fist into a wall. A voice called out from behind it in the desert beyond. It was the Snow Elven Grand Prince Aelthir Tundrak, sided by a Dwarven commander. Both sat astride horses – their armour and weapons clean of any gore.

 

“Rex! Your time has come!” The Snow Elf proclaimed smugly. Kahn looked out through the heavy gate, seeing a vast army of the coalition before him. If they chose to enact a siege now, Kahn knew the attackers would be victorious. He glanced back at the Orcs who survived the assault, then turned his focus back to the foreigners. “It is time you pay for your insolence!”

 

“You attack in cold blood! We stopped our raids!” Kahn called back. Aelthir and the Dwarf beside him exchanged looks.

 

“That’s a lie.” The Dwarf chimed in. “Orcs still raid our lands.”

 

“Yes,” Aelthir continued. Kahn looked to Ghazkoth.

 

“Open the gate.” The Targoth was shocked.

 

“You’re not going out there brother.”

 

“Fall to command Ghazkoth. Close the gate behind me.” Reluctantly, Ghazkoth did as he was ordered. Kahn threw his weapons to the ground, walking out to meet the army invading his lands – unarmed. The pinkskins watched mouth agape, taken aback by this act of bravery. As the gate slammed shut behind him, the Rex balled his fists. “What do you want.”

 

“Compensation!” Grand Prince Tundrak said behind his cloak of guards, atop his mount. “We are not ones for killing what is already dead, so, if pay us proper tribute” Aelthir placed great emphasis on the word ‘tribute’, “then we will allow you to keep on living in your sandy waste you call home.” The Rex merely grunted. “Five crates of irons, paid to the coalition in a months time. Otherwise we will cull you all.” With their point made, the coalition took their army and left – their demands given and wants clear. Kahn watched them ride away from the Uzg.

 

“The time will come, Elf, when I will kill you and your family.” The rest of the day was spent clearing the debris and fixing what was broken, as well as burning the dead. Among them was Kahn’s son Baine – but there was no time to mourn. The Rex called a meeting of all the Uzg that night, the Orcs gathering in the Rex’s palace.

 

Kahn sat atop his throne, Targoth Ghazkoth and Larty either side of him. The Uzg gathered before him, the leaders of the nation being foremost in front.

 

“We have been invaded.” The Rex began, his voice guttural and bitter. “I thought at first that they attacked us without reason, but the pinkskins say that there was in fact provocation…that we continued to raid them – after my express command that raids cease.” Kahn’s fiery red eyes darted at the many faces before him that all averted his gaze – they dare not lock eyes with the Rex when he was in such a mood. “Who, did, the raiding?” Silence, dead silence, in the Rex palace. Kahn looked to Ghazkoth, bellowing “Ghazkoth, did I imagine the coalition saying they still suffered Orcish raids?” The Targoth shook his head.

 

“No, you did not.”

 

“Then why do the people, remain, silent?!” The Rex thundered, turning his gaze back to the Orcs. Warchief Nagg gave a half grunt, half gulp, stepping forth.

 

“I led the rai-..” Kahn’s roar cut off the Raguk chief’s sentence as the Rex sprung up from his throne.

 

“You led them! Even after I commanded you to stop!” Nagg winced.

 

“Drak commanded me to raid the coalition settlem-.” Nagg tried to explain. Kahn roared once more.

 

“Do not try to wash yourself from your responsibility Warchief!” Kahn slowly descended the steps from his throne down to the floor of the palace to be on the same level as his people. He dwarfed them. He looked at Drak, then back to Nagg, switching his gaze between them. “I, am, ashamed. Ashamed that the two of you took it upon yourselves to defy my orders, you a Warchief,” Kahn moved from Nagg and got face to face with Drak, looking down at him, “And you, my Dominus. You are unworthy, unworthy of your titles, your power, unworthy of the lives laid down in defence of our nation against this attack. You are unworthy!” No Orc made any comment, Kahn turning back to his throne, retreating into its embrace. “Drak you are stripped of your Dominus rank. Nagg, so long as you are chief of the Raguks they will forever remain a Warchief clan. Out of my sight!” The Orcs quickly vacated the palace, only Krom, Kahn, Ghaz and Larty remaining.

 

“Father, a word, please.” Kahn rubbed his temples, nodding.

 

“What it is Krom.” The young Braduk looked at Ghazkoth and Larty, Kahn noticing this. “They may stay, it doesn’t matter.”

 

“My mother…” Krom began. Kahn’s heart immediately sank. “You never told us what happened.” The towering, mighty Rex could not muster any sort of response. He stared into oblivion for some time. “Father?”

 

“Another time.” Kahn said stoically. Krom looked agitated.

 

“I’ve been wondering for years, whilst you’ve pretended she never existed, and you’re going to tell me ‘another time’?” Krom beckoned. Ghazkoth grunted.

 

“That’s your father you’re speaking to boy, and the Rex.” The Targoth chortled. Krom clenched his fists as Kahn gave off a sigh.

 

“Why wont you tell me?” Krom asked, his emotions betraying him. Kahn finally spoke.

 

“To protect you.” He said, his normally strong and powerful voice hushed. Krom seethed.

 

“To protect me? No…its been to protect yourself..hasn’t it?” Ghazkoth growled.

 

“Easy now boy, you may be my nephew but I will feed you your tusks if you speak out of line again.” Kahn waved Ghazkoth down.

 

“Enough brother.” The Rex sighed once more. “Long before you were born, before I even met your mother, we worked with a group of humans – fought with them for coin. They eventually turned on us, but we survived by killing them. Not all of them however, some of them imprisoned me. I was freed by Ghazkoth, Drax, Larty and Grohla. We defeated my captors, but not all of them. They returned years later when our clan was small and weak, just rebirthed. They offered me the choice – Grohla, your mother, or the clan…I had to choose the clan.” Krom, eyes filling with tears, looked perplexed.

 

“You sent my mother to her death?” Kahn exhaled, half shaking his head.

 

“I had no choice.”

 

“Yes you did!” Krom shouted. “You could have saved her!”

 

“There was too many, and they threatened to kill you and your brothers and sister had I not made the call. They would’ve killed all of us. A leader must make his decisions for the greater good, not for his own desires.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me from the start?” Krom asked, a tear rolling down his cheek.

 

“I have been haunted by her death, every day since it happened.” Kahn said, his gaze falling onto nothingness.

 

“So you chose to create a hole in my memory…one that now will never truly be filled.” Kahn had nothing to say. “I cannot stay here. Not with you, not with anyone. Skah this.” Krom snarled, turning to leave.

 

“I will not ask you to stay, son. But you are abandoning your kin in their time of need. If you leave, do not come back.” Kahn’s voice returned to it’s normal timbre of assertion. Krom offered no response, storming out of the palace.

 

A step ahead: The Rex’s plot

 

With the apparent need for such payment the Iron Uzg’s production increased exponentially and rapidly, working beyond its initial believed capabilities. They worked to excess and then some; such a vast amount of material wealth was cultivated as Kahn constantly reminded his people of their need to pay the coalition their debt they demanded. Coalition morale – specifically the morale of the Snow Elves skyrocketed. The Snow Elves grew smug and soft, dropping their guard. Kahn sent agents to Fennland to spread propaganda on how the Uzg was shaken by the coalitions actions, spurred on by fear.

 

In the mean, Kahn also sent agents to the other coalition nations. Some agents bore messages of threats, others of deals and more friendly notions. The Iron Uzg eventually came to terms with all the members of the southern coalition, all except the Snow Elves.

 

Larty entered the Rex’s chambers, walking up the steps to Kahn’s balcony where the Rex sat drinking ale.

 

“Kahn, the Southern Vailor Coalition has disbanded.” The old Goblin told him. Kahn sipped his beverage.

 

“I know.” Larty cocked a brow.

 

“How?” Kahn smirked, rolling his eyes. “But…”

 

“Did you really think I was going to pay that perfumed skah. He couldn’t hurt a fly, as much as he likes to play powerful leader.” Larty still looked somewhat confused but he progressively made sense of the situation.

 

“You never intended to pay them from the start…but why make such a big show about it, as if we were?” Kahn rolled his eyes once more.

 

“To appear weak when strong. So that the Snow Elves would grow smug, soft and weak, like they have done. So they’d think they have the upper hand and make no moves.”

 

“What was the point of getting the people to amass so much iron then if we were never going to pay them?” Kahn glared at Larty.

 

“We now have a stupendous surplus of iron.” Larty’s old eyes widened.

 

“Kahn that’s…that’s brilliant.” The Rex took another sip of his ale before placing his bone mug on a table beside him.

 

“I was able to negotiate with most of the coalition nations, those who were tributaries to the Uzg will return to their status so to not fall into our sights as well. They will fight with us.”

 

“Fight with us?”

 

“Yes.” The Rex replied, rising. He looked down at the city before him, the Uzg bustling with productivity. “I have amassed a great army to genocide the beat dogs that are the Snow Elves. An Iron Waaagh.” Kahn looked to Larty. “We’re going to war.”

 

To genocide morale: A lesson in psychology

 

As the Iron Uzg prepared its plans for war they began raiding the Snow Elves hard and often, in most cases simply sweeping them away in single strokes. At the Rex’s behest, the Orcs were ordered to mutilate the corpses of the dead and present them so that the Fennic Elves would have to witness them – it would strike fear into their hearts. Moreover, Kahn himself began writing letters to citizens of Fennland, sending dismembered body parts of other Snow Elves with the papers. In addition to this the Rex also planted spies within Fennland, spreading rumours of dissension within the Snow Elves – they could no longer trust each other because of this. Ultimately this broke the Snow Elven morale. 

 

Many Snelves sent emissaries to the Uzg and to the Rex personally, pleading for mercy saying that they “knew they had no chance of victory”, others wanting to be spared. The Iron Uzg had won before the war had officially started. All of those who begged for mercy were executed in brutal fashion, most often crucified before the Snow Elf city. The Grand Prince’s child nephew was taken captive by the Orcs and subsequently blood eagled by Kahn, his remains being sent to the Tundraks.

 

The Dwarves decided that they would fight with the Snow Elves against Kahn’s Iron Waaagh, which comprised of essentially the rest of Vailor. Oren joined the fray, joining the Waaagh against the Snow Elves and Dwarves.

 

It was around this time that Lukra’Braduk and Kahn became mates. It took some degree of convincing, but Kahn put the tragedy of Grohla behind him, seeing Lukra’s strength, courage and honour. Lukra fell pregnant with Kahn’s child.

 

The day snow melted: Waaagh

 

“We are Orcs! We do not kneel! Clamber! With a heart of steel! Scorching! Is the desert’s rays! Snow Elf death is on its way!” Targoth Ghazkoth thundered to the Krughai, chants and demands for blood echoing throughout. The Orcish forces awaited at the edge of the desert in their formations with their brutish general pacing before them. Ghazkoth bashed his axe Helllscream against his shield – upon it’s face was depicted a half wolf half rhino creature.

 

Rex Kahn’Braduk sat astride his rhino ‘The Blue’, aptly named for it’s blue-grey hide. War Maker, the great sword of Enrohk lay abreast his armoured shoulder – his long famous warbraid draping over the other. Kahn’s newly appointed Dominus, Duruh Gorkil walked up beside him.

 

“My Rex, the pinkskin forces will arrive momentarily.” She said, her blade in hand. Kahn nodded.

 

“Good.” As if on cue, the forces of the Iron Waaagh began trickling in from over the horizon – Wood Elves, High Elves, Dark Elves, Kharajyr, the Caliphate, countless more settlements and mercenary groups, and lastly, Oren. The great army shook the realm with their war chants, and then with their march as they set out for Fennland. The journey durated from the early hours after dawn to midday before the army set foot in the snow, creating their battle lines adjacent from the Fennic capital. The Iron Waaagh dwarfed the forces of Fenn, 100-1.

 

“Can you smell that?” Kahn asked, the army falling silent to listen. “Piss. No prisoners.” The Rex commanded simply. “Sound the horn.” Ghazkoth blew into a large horn – the cry of which rolled across the snowy tundra. It was said the clacking of the shaking knees of the Snow Elves echoed even louder than the horn. The great army charged and made short work of the forces, slaying the Snow Elves in a matter of minutes, pushing to seconds even. No survivors were left, but the body of Aelthir Tundrak could not be found – he either refused to fight with his troops or fled early on in the battle.

 

When the dust settled, Snow Elven guts and gore were strewn across the battlefield – all dead. Kahn, covered in Fenn blood brought his rhino to a halt, holding up War Maker with a head piked upon its tip. The Rex roared, as did the Krughai. A siege would take place soon enough, and the Iron Waaagh dispersed. Kahn rode into the capital, flanked by his troops. A feast began.

 

“Kahn, Lukra needs you.” Larty Wun Eye appeared, telling him. Kahn, still in his blood covered armour dismounted his rhino and followed the Goblin – he led the Rex to a large birthing nest. Prying the nest open the two entered. Lukra growled. Larty immediately went to work, helping Lukra in the process. Kahn watched intently. “Come on Lukra, put some back into it!” The old Goblin egged on. Lukra snarled, striking him atop the head. Chuckling, Larty continued until a son was born to her. Pulling him out, Larty took the large baby in his arms before handing him to Kahn. The Rex held the infant in one hand, looking him over.

 

“He’s healthy.” Kahn commented.

 

“He looks just like you did.” Larty added. Kahn thought about his ancestors, his mind taking to the fabled Mokrag’Braduk.

 

“He will be called Mok’han.” Kahn gave Mok’han back to Larty, who handed him to Lukra. The mother inspected her son, holding him close. Larty vacated the nest, leaving the new family to themselves.

 

Failure: Blinded by rage

 

Over the next few weeks the Iron Uzg continued to raid the Snow Elves and leave them in a bloodied heap. The date of the planned siege grew close. Murmurs began trickling around the Uzg of the Rex’s desire to genocide the Snow Elves – some were beginning to call it an obsession. Soon the day came – the siege of the Fennic capital.

 

Ghazkoth marched the Krughai to the precipice that was the edge of the desert – the Targoth flanked by the Orcish horde. Horde, perhaps not – it was only a small force that was mustered, the rest of the Uzg nowhere to be seen. Kahn rested beside one of the great stone pillars that protruded from the sands – War Maker in hand – watching his men draw near. Ready for war the green tide was ready to wash over their enemy and render them inert. Ghazkoth ordered the troops come to a halt and took his place beside his brother and the armed forces of the brooding returned war nation awaited the arrival of their allies in the Iron Waaagh. None came.

 

Drak’Lur and Shreck’Lak rode forth from the horizon, looks of distress evident on both of the clan chief’s faces. The duo skidded to an abrupt stop before the Rex, the Swampgoth speaking up.

 

“Kahn, there’s a problem.” A mild look of disinterest painted the Rex’s face as Shreck approached him, yet the towering Orc paid mind to the blueish Uruk and began to listen.

 

“What is the problem Shreck?” Kahn questioned, heaving the giant sword his shoulder.

 

“We’ve lost Oren.” Silence fell over the Iron Uzg’s army until Kahn grunted.

 

“How?”

 

“The Snow Elves converted to the human faith” Drak continued, “they abandoned their own religion and beliefs in favour of Orens. Because of this, Oren will not fight with us.” The Lur Wargoth said. Ghazkoth lumbered over.

 

“Does Oren fight against us?” The Targoth asked. Drak should his head.

 

“No, they’re neutral. But we’ve lost the rest of our allies because of this.” A Krughai Nob - a Gorkil named Gruk’ku – joined the group that had gathered, offering his own input.

 

“My Rex,” Gruk’ku said, keeping a bowed head, “we’ve no allies and have a poor rally. Perhaps we should postpone the siege until later.” Targoth Ghazkoth grunted in response.

 

“You’d turn from a fight?” The large Braduk barked.

 

“With all due respect Targoth, where is the Krughai?” Shreck asked whilst folding his arms. Ghaz gave off a snarl.

 

“I gave reminders for weeks about this siege – I can’t help it if skah’n runts don’t turn up.” Shreck gave a shrug, Kahn on the other hand shot glares at his many generals before him.

 

“We’ve come too far to stop now.” The Rex mandated, “I will not allow these hurdles to slow us down. If the cowards wish to betray their heritage, traditions and beliefs for a little reprieve, let them. It is better this way, us versus them. A purer fight.” Kahn stood and waited for any objectors– nobody did. That is, until an ashen skinned Orc stepped forth.

 

“But they are not alone, Rex.” The grey-Orc said. He was Grahl, Chieftain of the new obscure clan Zhul. Little was known of these grey Orcs, yet there were rumours that Grahl was in the pocket of foreign mercenary companies. These rumours fell on deaf ears with respect to the Rex, who at this time heard only what he wanted to hear. “Dunamis has been bought by the Fenn. They are set to fight with them – but they intend to betray them to fight with us.”

 

“How do you know this?” Ghazkoth asked him. Grahl smirked slyly.

 

“I just do.” It was all the Rex needed to hear, his desire for Snow Elven blood clouding his judgement evidently. He climbed atop his rhino and ordered the Krughai be mobilised and to move out – off they went.

 

The Iron Uzg’s battlements stood tall before the Fennic capital, siege equipment dotted across the landscape as the area before the city quickly became filled with Orcs. No more than a dozen – perhaps even less – Snow Elves stood on the walls of their city, but Dunamis banners loomed over the Icy walls. Kahn dragged his sword through the snow as he paced before the ranks of his army, Ghazkoth moving beside him.

 

“Dunamis are to betray them?” He asked his older brother. Kahn grunted.

 

“So the Zhul pup says.”

 

“And if they don’t?”

 

“Then this is where we die, brother.” Kahn was stoic yet at the same time brimming with rage – possessed by it even. Even Ghazkoth felt uneasy in his presence. “Sound the horn, so it begins.” The war horn of the Uzg thundered.

 

“Man the siege weapons!” Ghazkoth ordered, sending Orcs on their way left and right as they took control of the many balistas, catapults and other such siege engines – their ammunition letting fly. The enemy began sending volleys of flaming arrows in response, yet none broached the field. Ghazkoth and Kahn exchanged glances as the rest of the Krughai roared for battle. “Dunamis are taking their time.” Their attention was drawn to the metallic cries of the city’s gate cranking open - emerging; Dunamis cavalry.

 

“They come to stand with us!” A runt called out. Kahn snarled.

 

“No you fool, they come to slay us. Prepare to be charged!” The Rex bellowed, marching to the oncoming enemy. The Krughai followed suit, the Dunamis riders approaching and soon engaging the Uzg. Amidst the chaos a flaming arrow sunk into Kahn’s breastplate, catching the leather undergarment alight. As flames began to swarm around his midriff Kahn quickly tore his armour away, exposing his torso. Roaring in defiance, barely a moment passed before a Dunamis soldier sped past the Rex, his blade dragging across the humongous Orc’s stomach. Immediately Kahn’s vision blurred as his head rushed with haze – his balance began to falter. His pre-existing wound – the ruining of his innards from his battle against the Alt’yaika demon many years ago – had been aggravated. Stumbling about Kahn swung his sword wildly yet the wound - that would have otherwise been a substantial yet manageable injury but due to the already existing condition was rendered much more severe - sapped him of most of his strength almost instantaneously.

 

“Kahn!” Ghazkoth shouted, running to his brother. He wrapped his arms around him, calling for several grunts to give aid. “We’re leaving!” The Targoth commanded. “Sound the horn for retreat!” What forces of the Uzg remained fled the battlefield into the snowy forests before returning to the road to return to the desert. The Iron Uzg had been defeated by the Horde of Dunamis.

 

Kahn slowly paced into the Rex’s palace, his stomach bleeding heavily. He used War Maker as a make-shift staff to prop himself up – several medics approached him trying to tend to his wounds as he went. The broken forces of the Uzg followed him into the palace - much of the Orcs who had not rallied now arrived.

 

“What happened?” An Orc who had not partook in the battle asked. Kahn threw his sword to the ground and spun round to the grunt, thumping him in the jaw with his fist. The Orc fell onto his rear. The Rex staggered about, his skin pale.

 

“Where were you all?! Where were you when your people needed you?!” He roared. No Orc offered a riposte. Through his fading vision Kahn noticed Grahl and the Zhuls were not present.

 

“We need to regroup. We can take them next time.” Ghazkoth assured, shooting scornful glares at the many Orcs in the palace.

 

“Perhaps we should sue for peace.” The Dominus Duruh’Gorkil proposed.

 

“Could we ally with Oren? We could become a vassal state.” Another of the clan chiefs asserted.

 

“We should seek to purchase Dunamis at once. Their involvement in the war turned the tide to the enemy.”

 

“Silence yourselves!” Kahn’s now husky and shaky voice shouted. Up until this point his focus had been on maintaining consciousness. “We have failed! There will be no peace!” The Rex gave off a bloody cough, thick red sludge spurted out across the marbled floor of the palace. His hand moved to his mouth – blood soaking in between his fingers. “We wi-…will not fail-..again..” A gnarled blood-filled bile threw up from the Rex’s maw as he dropped to a knee. “There will be no quarter-..no..for the-..” He slumped onto his back, the Orcs watching on in horror. Ghazkoth sprung forward, as did countless Keshig.

 

“Skah you looking at? Help your Rex!”

 

Inside the Rex’s chambers: Prognosis negative

 

“Morning.” Larty said, sat beside the Rex’s bed in his chambers. Kahn moved to sit up yet he hadn’t the strength. He tried to move his arm to shift the blanket of fur that lay across his body, but he couldn’t manage it. He shivered, yet sweated at the same time.

 

“What the skah..” He found the will to mumble. Larty placed a hand on the Orc’s shoulder.

 

“Keep your strength Kahn. Your wounds, I wont bullskah you, they’re not good. That’s somewhat my doing…” The Goblins voice trailed off, sorrow visible on his face. “My fumbling attempts at healing you when you were ripped into two parts, whilst it saved your life it left your insides in tatters. Our doctors say it’s a miracle you survived this long. But the wound you suffered in battle, I…I’m afraid its disturbed your condition. Our best medics have tended to you and done all they can, but they don’t know.”

 

“The war..” Kahn murmured. Larty sighed.

 

“About that. If I may speak freely,” The old Goblin hesitated. Kahn attempted a nod, consenting. “Whats happened to you?” He asked, a silence descending over the chamber as Kahn was left to stew on that question. Eventually though, Larty carried on. “The Kahn I know doesn’t rush headlong into a fight he doesn’t stand a chance in winning because vanity compels him to. You’re making the same mistakes as your predecessors. What happened to you? What happened to the Iron Uzg? We might as well call ourselves the War Uzg these days.”

 

“You’re right…” Kahn said with a thin voice. He fell to unconsciousness thereafter.

 

Kahn’s condition worsened over time, the next few weeks being long and gruelling ones. Word spread to the Orcs – their Rex was dieing. Nothing the doctors of the Uzg was doing worked. Ghazkoth attempted to galvanise the nation yet tensions began to rise amongst the chiefs – the lust for power beginning to overtake a love for country. It was at this time that Oren declared war on the Snow Elves – the Mali’Fenn had betrayed their vow to the empire and returned to their ‘pagan’ beliefs and consequently the Emperor vowed to eradicate them. Not long after this, the Orc Ubba arrived at the Uzg, seconded by the famed Mogroka’Gorkil.

 

Ubba brought back the Ugluk clan – no opposition was given by the Braduk clan with Kahn incapacitated. With shrouded intent Ubba’Ugluk and Mogroka’Gorkil seized a great deal of support from the Orcs who were bitter against their loss to the Snow Elves and formed the Gaashbluudz Warband. Ubba and Mogroka started leading raids with Oren against the Fenn and had a vast amount of success. News of this reached Kahn’s chambers, and the Rex, teetering on the fringe of death ordered the two Orcs meet with him.

 

Ghazkoth stood steadfast beside Kahn who lay – still barely conscious – dazed in his bed within his chambers. Countless Keshig stood guard also, as Ubba and Mogroka entered.

 

“Rex.” Ubba more or less commented, seeing Kahn bedridden. Mogroka, staff in hand made himself comfortable within the room, keeping to himself. It was reported the only words the fabled Orc of Old said throughout the meeting were ‘Dem Orcs’, muttered to himself. Kahn forced himself upright, looking at the duo.

 

“I hear you wish to command my men.” The Rex said before giving a cough.

 

“They follow me, because you are not around to be followed.” Ubba replied. Ghazkoth grunted, but Kahn dismissed his hostility.

 

“I hear you’ve taken to raiding the Fenn. Successfully.” Ubba nodded. “The Uzg respects you, despite your recent arrival.” Ubba nodded once more. “I’d name you Targoth.” Ghazkoth looked to Kahn, visibly annoyed. Kahn grunted, the very action causing him pain.

 

“You will command my Keshig, Ghazkoth. We must deal with what we are given.” A tough truth to swallow, but Ghazkoth took his demotion in stride. Kahn focused back on Ubba. “Know this though, the ideals of my nation are not what you nor Mogroka know. War is not everything.”

 

“War is everything.” Ubba retorted. “Orcs need to be at war – it’s all we know.” Kahn didn’t have the strength to argue, he merely lied back down.

 

“One more thing. You’re an Ugluk. For your apparent valour and courage in combat I will allow the clan to return under your command.”

 

“So our clans feud has ended?” Ubba asked, slightly perking up.

 

“It looks that way.”

 

And so it was, in one begrudged meeting the Braduk-Ugluk clan feud was brought to a close, and the seeds for the Iron Uzg’s return to it’s place as the ‘War Nation’ were planted with Ubba’s ascension to Targoth.

 

Rapping at the door: In Kor’s hands

 

The Gaashbluudz Warband – spurred on by Oren’s war efforts – continued to enact raids upon the Snow Elves as a second siege attempt was planned. This time it would not be the Iron Waaagh marching on the Fenn – it would be the Holy Oren Empire and their underlings set to conquer the Snow Elves. As Ubba, Mogroka and their supporters claimed more power the Iron Uzg’s ideology of culture, infrastructure and industry became all but forgotten – replaced only with the old Orcish obsession of war.

 

It was the night before the new siege attempt. Doctors of the Uzg had exerted all of their efforts on Rex Kahn’Braduk to save his life yet by this time, they were merely counting the days until his death. The Rex lay prone in his bed – his cheeks gaunt, skin pale, the white of his eyes a sickly yellow. Keshig stood with concerned looks on their faces within his chambers, as did numerous Goblin servants and medics. Larty sat beside the Rex, nodding to Ghazkoth as he entered.

 

“How is he?” The former Targoth – turned Keshig Commander – asked. Larty sighed, shaking his head. “I’d have a moment alone with him.” The ancient Goblin bowed his head, motioning for all present to leave. Before long they had vacated, and Ghazkoth stood before his older brother who was presently dieing before him. Ghazkoth sat upon the bed beside him.

 

“Ur-gh…” Kahn grumbled. He was awake. “Ghaz…” the Rex struggled to say. “I’m sorry..”

 

“For what?” Ghazkoth shot back in a hushed tone, titling his head. Kahn exhaled heavily, his breathing deeply laboured.

 

“Power…it ruined me..” Ghazkoth didn’t know how to respond. “I was blinded by my own rage…the Iron Uzg…I failed it..”

 

“No.” Ghazkoth corrected. “You brought our people back from the verge of extinction almost. You gave us hope, you made us better. You were better.”

 

“Our people, we’ve returned to our old ways.” Kahn gritted his teeth, his words slightly less ethereal in manner.

 

“This is true.” Ghazkoth conceded. “The Gaashbluudz have capitalised on the Uzg’s want for war – we’ve forgotten our culture and traditions once again.”

 

“If I am to die…so be it. But-…but..keep our philosophy alive brother…the Orcs…we are more…more than savages.” Kahn’s eyes rolled back as he slumped into his bed. Had it not been for the mild rising and falling of his chest, one would assume the Rex had died – yet he still held life tight in his grasp.

 

“We attack the Snow Elves tomorrow. Ubba leads our forces.” The large Keshig Commander said, standing up. “Under Oren.” He went on with a contemptible grunt. “Be here when we are victorious brother, for this is your victory.” He left the Rex’s chambers, his mind taken with the battle to come.

 

Conquered: The Empire casts a large shadow

 

Fiddling with the leather straps that wrapped around the handle of Hellscream Ghazkoth awaited the arrival of the Orcish army. The Braduk clan stood with him, the rhino lords all sombre in feeling. Soon the Orcish horde amassed and set out to meet with the sea of troops that was the Empire. Man, Elf, countless vassals – the Holy Oren Empire cast a large shadow across the snowy fields of Fenn. Ubba stood at the for-front of the Orcish horde. In truth, Ghazkoth felt a calm relief at the relieving of his duty as a Targoth, and despite his personal feelings towards the Ugluk, knew that there was no denying his competency as a commander in battle.

 

“On my mark!” Ubba called out to the Krughai, locking eyes with the many Orenian generals – awaiting their go ahead. Without warning the invading forces unleashed a mighty barrage of siege fire upon the Snow Elven capital, the walls battering and splintering in brutal hellfire and munitions.

 

A gaping hole was blown in the side of the city – the sacking quickly followed.

 

Meanwhile, back at the Rex palace, doctors huddled around the Rex – at this point they were merely waiting for his demise. Kahn’s mind was elsewhere from his body – perhaps lost in a fever dream, or not.

 

Ghazkoth was amongst the first to charge the city, the giant Braduk leaping through the broken wall and cleaving a Snow Elf’s torso in two with a single stroke. The forces of the Uzg and the Empire soon followed, and Ghazkoth found himself stalking through the barren streets of the poor capital.

 

Kahn opened his eyes to a purple-orange sky that seemed to float above him with such grace and majesty it seemed not of this world. The Rex lay on course ground in a field somewhere other than where he was a moment ago. Sitting up, a giant hall of Iron and Brass rose before him some distance away. Kahn approached.

 

Ghazkoth watched as two enemy troops ran up to him to engage, yet he parried a strike from the first with such ferocity it sent the pale Elf sprawling, and when the other lunged Ghazkoth sidestepped and split his skull with his axe from behind. The remaining Elf scrambled to his feet quickly – yet his time on the ground would last forevermore as the hulking Braduk thumped him across the temple with the flat side of his axe before decapitating his prone body.

 

Kahn could hear glorious chants and calls of battle as he drew near to the entrance of the great hall. He felt called to it in a way, yet could feel in the pit of his gut that he was not meant to be here. The hall’s doors heaved open just as he arrived – a bright light of rose gold blinded him for a moment before the room before him revealed itself.

 

Ghazkoth pressed through the city streets, striking down soldier and civilian alike. Unlike the other Orcs who had become swept up in the moment of battle, Ghazkoth sauntered about emotionless – the only feeling he felt was the mild sensation of pleasure when the dull screams of pain coming from the Snow Elves died, along with them. A mother and her child ran across the pathway that Ghazkoth was on – their last mistake. The sadistic monstrous green behemoth wrapped his hand around the woman’s neck, snapping it asunder with a violent contortion. As she fell lifeless to the ground Ghazkoth took hold of the wailing baby – as if it’s head were a mashed vegetable, the commander of the Keshig squished it’s head in his hand until it no longer resembled anything close to an infant. Ghaz eyed the ‘palace’ of the Grand Prince.

 

Kahn looked on as the legendary heroes of the Orcish race feasted and fought in the hall in which he stood. Could this be the Hall of Krug, the Rex thought. The festivities ceased as the Orcs turned their focus onto Kahn, beckoning him forward thereafter.

 

Ghazkoth struck the heavy doors to the throne room off their hinges with several swings of his axe before tearing into the hall. A dozen women, children and elderly huddled together before the empty throne of the Fenn – one would assume that these were Tundraks. It mattered little, as Ghazkoth sprang across the floor and struck them all down – painting the throne room red with blood and gore. None survived – by the end all that was left was a pile of slush.

 

Kahn was greeted first by a dark-skinned Orc, old in appearance with bright purple eyes. He knew who it was.

 

“Mokrag…” The Rex uttered, in awe at being in the presence of this legendary Braduk hero. The famous ‘Blood Talon’ gave a nod to Kahn, before gesturing he pass. Kahn walked forth, coming to a towering Orc with black-dread locks and blue eyes. Despite having never met this Orc, he knew his kinship to him.

 

“Braduk…” The heroic Chieftain of old looked at his descendent with pride, he too offered a nod before motioning for him to continue. Kahn peered into a dimly lit corner of the hall where a lone Orc sat. Giant both physically and in presence the Rex knew just how outclassed he was by merely looking at this Orc – despite he being shrouded in shadow. He couldn’t make out his features, but Kahn knew – he was in the presence of the All-father. Krug. The godly Orc barely lifted his hand yet made his motive clear, signalling for Kahn to look behind him.

 

“My son.” A voice said. It was Gargant’Braduk – Kahn’s father. The Rex was speechless, and as he tried to find words his father interrupted him. “Don’t speak boy, just listen. You’ve done great things – terrible things as well. You’ve risen higher than any Braduk before you, and you’ve brought our race back from the brink of destruction.”

 

“I am done, father.”

 

“No. There is still work to be done. You never wanted power but you were born into it, and it has continued to find you your whole life. It is your destiny, Kahn.”

 

“I’ve done all I can…I’m ready to join you all, here.”

 

“One day you may, my son – but it is not this one.” Gargant placed a hand on the shoulder of his son. “Only you.”

 

Ghazkoth huffed as he finished strangling an elderly Snow Elf with his own intestines – the last of the poor souls holed up in the throne room. The Keshig Commander – Hellscream in hand – paced toward the many glass panels that sat beside the Grand Prince’s throne, looking out at the carnage that was winding down within the city. The Snow Elves had been conquered. Ghaz gave a sharp grunt as he watched Orenian banners drape across the city walls.

 

Coda: A hollow victory

 

Kahn’s eyes opened, the roof of his chambers staring back at him.

 

“Hes awake!” A goblin doctor shouted, springing up from his seat. Several others swarmed around the Rex, offering him water and various medicines. Kahn sat up – some of his strength had returned yet he was still severely, completely and utterly sapped.

 

“You’re alive.” Larty said with a smile as he entered the chamber flanked by half a dozen Keshig.

 

“Yes..unfortunately.” Kahn replied, trying to stand. He dropped to a knee before two of the Goblins propped him up. “Get me a staff for skahs sake.” Kahn barked. He took a large wooden pole, leaning on it as a crutch.

 

“I’m glad, my friend.” Larty spoke through his grin yet his expression faltered when he saw how Kahn struggled.

 

“The siege..”

 

The Rex’s party rode through the bloody Fennic capital. Orcs watched their Rex in awe – many assuming that he had already perished. Kahn – accompanied by the entirety of his Keshig and Larty – slowly limped through the city streets, keeping his staff clutched tight so to not fall over, until he reached the throne room. As he entered, Ghazkoth immediately approached him.

 

“Brother, I-…it’s good to see you.” He embraced his elder brother, who gave a pained grunt in response. Kahn – stoic faced – hobbled through the throne room with the eyes of Orenian and Elven leaders falling onto him. Ubba stood amongst them, clutching a crown. Kahn gave long exhale as he relaxed into the Grand Prince’s throne. Ubba moved before him, laying the bloodied crown of Aelthir Tundrak at his feet – Kahn glared at it.

 

“We have won, Rex.” The Targoth said. Kahn sighed – his response was one word; whether he spoke with sincerity or cynicism only he truly knew.

 

“Victory.”

 

Epilogue

 

Kahn’s reign lasted roughly another year give or take. The ideology of the Iron Uzg had come to be considered by many an out-dated one; with their victory over the Snow Elves the Orcs wanted only war and blood. Ubba promised to sate their appetites and upon gaining support from many of the clan chiefs challenged Kahn for Rex – the younger and healthier Orc prevailing soundly.

 

With Ubba’s Rexdom the Uzg was reformed back into the War Nation – the new Rex went on to be an immensely successful and revered military leader and conqueror - however as history often repeats itself - this focus on war and the ignoring of domestic and cultural matters meant that the Orcs would stagnate and suffer greatly in this respect. It would not be until Kharak’Raguk would ascend to the seat of Rex that the Orc’s would recover once more – and in glorious fashion.

 

Following his defeat and loss of Rexdom Kahn’s illness continued to plague him – once more teetering on the cusp of death Kahn’s Keshig took him into the desert to live in solitude and heal. He would not return to the Uzg for some years, where he would go on to sire a second son – Durakhan – with Lukra. He’d leave the Uzg once again soon after and would not return once more until Axios.

 

In Kahn’s absence Ghazkoth was forced to ascend to Wargoth of the Braduk clan. Under his rule the Rhino Lords prospered – once again growing vast and powerful, in many respects more powerful than they had ever been. Eventually though, he too would grow tired of power, and would leave the War Nation. Lukra’Braduk was then forced to be the first non-bloodline Braduk to become Wargoth and would lead the clan steadfast through the oncoming times of strife it faced.

 

Drax’s status to this day remains unknown. Whether or not he and those who joined him ever made it to their destination and founded a ‘New Kenuk’ has never been discovered, nor will it likely ever be.

 

Three cubs born into a dead clan would go on to take it to heights it had never seen before, and would challenge the established order of things. Their tale should serve as a lesson to all Orcs of every stripe; greatness is what you make of it. 

 

[Chorale__ 2147]

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

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.