Trash as Far as the Eye Can See

[BakedPotato 1020]

 

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Trash, Everywhere.

Rats in the Landfill by Enthuziast

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The pungent stench of rot hung heavy in the air, blanketing everything in sight and making escape nigh impossible. Barren hills and scarce plains made up the landscape as Gazhnahk trotted through the realm. As far as the eye could see, piles of trash covered the land. Gazhnahk wondered where it all came from. Whose trash was this? Not even all the descendants on Azuras could produce this much.

This world lacked foliage. The plants that did exist were mostly dead. Instead of vibrant green grass, she trekked through dirt, gravel, and, unfortunately, trash.

As she wandered, she took out her journal, jotting down small descriptions and notes. Even though she thought it was mostly useless, she sketched some of the landscape and trash piles. She occasionally rifled through these heaps of garbage in hopes of finding something useful. The Akaal pocketed some trinkets along her journey, but nothing of particular value.

Her nose wrinkled from the stench, and glass crunched beneath her feet as she made her way through hills of junk. Suddenly, she heard scrap being shuffled around and tin clacking against more tin. Quickly, she lowered herself and began moving with greater care. In the near distance, she heard muffled voices. The closer she got, the easier it became to make out what they were saying.

“It’s only been a few hours. Let’s give it more time,” one deep voice spoke.

“Yeah, a few hours of nothing. We got everything good from these piles days ago. Why do you keep insisting on searching them?” another scruffy voice replied.

Quietly, Gazhnahk approached, using the trash to obscure herself from sight. What she saw were two thin, dirty men wearing clothing and makeshift armor sewn together from whatever they could find. They were both bent over with their arms deep in different adjacent piles of rubbish, scavenging for what they could.

“You always want to call it too early, Helkur.”

Helkur let out a scoff. “I do not!”

Finally, she decided to make her presence known. Slowly, she stood and approached, her heavy footsteps thudding against the ground like falling stone. Both men snapped to attention, standing straight and turning toward Gazhnahk. They pulled out their weapons, though describing them as such was generous. Helkur carried a shield made from what appeared to be a tin trash lid, as well as a baton taped and welded together. The other, still nameless, carried a hook blade that had been sharpened, though poorly.

“What are you?” the first questioned.

 “Some sort of mutated freak?” Helkur added.

She held her hands up, hoping to gesture peace as she took a few paces back.

“Easy. I come in peace. I can answer your questions, but I have some of my own.” She spoke in common instead of her usual dialect, doubting their ability to understand it.

“Yeah? You come in peace? That’s cool,” the first said with a chuckle.

“But what if we don’t? How about instead you answer our questions, and we don’t tell you anything?” Helkur then asked.

“Yeah, answer our questions. And give us your stuff,” the first added.

“Ooh yeah, she looks like she has some good stuff,” Helkur whispered loudly. “Give us your stuff,” he said now to Gazhnahk with a nod.

The orc let out a sigh. She had hoped to learn from the inhabitants of this land, not kill them. Her helm was donned, and her spear loosened free. The shaft sank slightly into the soft earth as she leaned on the weapon.

“I’m sure my belongings far surpass anything you’ve ever found in this dump, so what makes you think you’ll be capable of defeating me? This is your last chance to stand down. I don’t want to kill you.”

“Us? You want us to stand down? Do you know what group we run wit-”

The first one had clearly not finished speaking when she interjected. “No, and I don’t care. You will die by my hand here if you try to rob me, but it does not need to end this way.” Her grip on her spear tightened as she eyed them cautiously.

Helkur spoke up now. “I like the idea of killing you and taking all your stuff far better now!”

She had wanted to ask more about who that was, but it seemed she would not get her chance. Helkur rushed toward her and raised his tin bat before bringing it down on her head. The other flanked her, running around her side to get behind her. With his hook blade, he swung, attempting to pierce her side. Both hits struck true, but Gazhnahk did not react. They collided harmlessly against her magical armor.

Swiftly, she drove her spear through Helkur’s stomach, but even as she stabbed him, she did not stop plunging the weapon deeper. She stared into his eyes as they grew wide with shock. He let out a pained gasp before being lifted from the ground, still skewered on her spear. Her strength was otherworldly to them. Helkur’s feet dangled around as the orc shook him on the tip of her spear before she hurled him across the junkyard.

She turned to face the other man, who was already backing away in fear.

“Y-you’re truly some monster…”

The man hesitated only a moment before running, abandoning his friend in the face of death. He ran and ran, his eyes fixed forward. Safety was so close he was almost out of sight. The scavenger did not hear the uruk’s heavy footsteps giving chase, and with his eyes focused on what was in front of him, he did not see the uruk preparing to throw her spear. 

The man felt a sudden, agonizing, stinging pain spread through his leg, stemming from his knee. It felt as if his leg were burning within, as if his veins were ablaze. His eyes dropped down, and that’s when he saw the orc’s horrible, blighted spear impaled straight through his kneecap. Gazhnahk’s attention left him for now, returning to Helkur, who was bleeding out in a heaping pile of cans, bottles, garbage bags, and assorted trash. 

Helkur watched helplessly as the orc stalked closer, resting against the hill of junk, unable to will his body to move. The only thing he was able to do was feel the pool of his own blood grow beneath him and groan in silent suffering. The orc picked Helkur up and slammed him against the dirt; there was a crunching of plastic as he flattened a bottle beneath him. In one swift motion, the orc brought her foot high up in the air before slamming it down against his skull, her substantial weight colliding with him like a boulder and ending him off in a single brutalizing blow. 

Gazhnahk turned to look at the man with her spear still lodged in his leg. He was crawling away with his blood trailing after him, his fingers scraping through the dirt in desperation to get further from her. She was slow, meandering after him, drawing out his remaining moments. As she reached him, she gripped her spear and pulled it free. The unnamed scavenger screamed as she did, but she quickly silenced him by putting her spear through his head.

It had not even been a day, yet Gazhnahk had already killed two residents of this plane. The Akaal ripped her spear free from the now corpse, wiping it clean.

Was this the unfortunate result of her meddling?

Should she not have come?

No. She came to observe. She was peaceful. She did everything right.

She was right.

She was just trying to do her job. They chose to attack her. They gave her no other option.

It was their fault, not hers.

Gazhnahk put away her spear before pulling out her journal. She began writing about what happened, noting that there were locals here. She studied the remains, flipping them over so they were on their backs. Upon closer inspection, their skin was stretched tight over their bones, clearly malnourished. They both bore a similar symbol on their armor, a rune of sorts. She decided to sketch both this and their weapons and armor, labeling different sections of the latter on what she believed composed them.

The sun had dipped below the horizon; the orc continued to journey through fields of litter for a while without coming upon anything notable. She did not know how long she had walked, just that her feet were growing sore and her muscles began to tense and spasm occasionally. Gazhnahk had come to use her spear as a walking staff at some point during her travels, though it did little to help the increasing fatigue. As she reached the top of a hill, Gazhnahk spotted, in the distance, a barely standing, run-down village. About fifteen huts, poorly put together from rusted metal and scavenged trash.

The Akaal stood for a moment at the top of the hill, gazing down at the village. Before pulling out her journal, she stabbed the spear she held into the ground. She dedicated an entire page to the sketch as she began drawing the village. Once finished, she slid the journal away again before grabbing her spear and continuing toward the village.

With little caution, the orc approached a home. The earlier events made her no longer fear the inhabitants of this plane. There came a rasping of metal against metal as she knocked on what she assumed was the door. The metal sheet shuffled as it was slid slightly to the side; this door was not on any hinges but simply rested against the house.

It was a woman who had opened up. Her face looked gaunt, and her hair was thinning. Her clothes were filthy rags stitched together, and she was covered in dirt. Gazhnahk saw the fear quickly growing in the woman’s eyes.

“I come in peace,” she blurted out before the woman could speak. “I don’t mean to bring you harm.”

Her distrust was clear; her eyes glanced toward the spear Gazhnahk still gripped tightly.

“Then why the weapon? What are you?”

“I have traveled for a long time. My legs ache, but my spear aided me as a walking staff. I wasn’t trying to threaten you,” Gazhnahk responded, putting her spear away in the process. “I am a traveler who came here from a different world; I know I look different, but I promise we are much more similar than you think. Please, I am exhausted. I just want to rest, just for tonight.”

“How can I trust you?”

“I can leave my weapons outside if that brings you more comfort.”

She hesitated, but then the woman slowly nodded. She slid the makeshift door further to the side before stepping deeper into the hut. Gazhnahk kept true to her word, putting her weapons down against the hut. Theft was not a concern of hers; her weapons bore excessive magical weight that made picking them up difficult even for humans back home, and these creatures were definitely not even close in strength to them.

The tall orc had to bend her knees to enter the hut constructed for a much shorter person. As she entered, she slid the door back into place. She looked around the single-room den. She had seen goblins with larger living quarters than this. The ground was the same dirt as outside; the hut had no floor. In the corner, a small fire sat, illuminating the place, with a dented and rusted pot simmering on top. Gazhnahk called it a fire, but it was mostly glowing pieces of burnt wood with a dying flame. Stained rugs lay piled in another corner.

She had to stay crouched to avoid bumping her head against the roof, deciding to sit down and rest her back against the wall. It creaked slightly, not used to supporting weight like hers, though it held for now.

The woman did not live alone. Within the rugs, two beady eyes stared at Gazhnahk.

“That’s Sofia. Your appearance is probably scaring her,” the woman said, noticing Gazhnahk’s attention being drawn to the rugs.

“I’ve gotten that before.” She stared at the pair of eyes before turning to face the mother. “I’m willing to tell you about myself and what I am, but in turn I want to know of this realm and of you.”

And so that’s what she did. She learned the woman’s name was Helen, and Helen offered her a bowl of the soup she had cooked. Gazhnahk declined after getting a whiff of the stew, which smelled absolutely rancid. The orc decided not to tell the two of the jerky she carried in her pouch as the mother and daughter ate their meal. They ate from old tin dishes, simply drinking from them since they had no utensils.

Gazhnahk told them of herself as they ate, though she was less than truthful. She spun a long tale about how she had come from a place where everyone looked like her, and then, randomly, one day she woke up here, both unsure how she had ended up here and unsure how to get back. They seemed to relax the more she talked and told them about herself.

From them, she learned more about the place she had traveled to. The orc learned that the entire realm looked like what she had seen all day, a wasteland of landfills. The inhabitants were forced to scrounge through trash all day to find food and survive. They told her about a clan of scavengers based not far from this village. The scavengers would often come to take from the residents of this town and other nearby settlements.

Gazhnahk wondered the point. Why fight to live in a place like this? Why have children to carry on the cycle? What was the point of their continued existence?

She also learned who led them: a Sarrim Durahd. The orc produced her journal and flipped to the page with the rune on it, asking them about it. It was Durahd’s crest. Helen questioned where she had seen it, and another lie was told. She created another tale about how she had run into two men who bore the crest, how they had tried to take all of her belongings, but she convinced them to walk away with a few trinkets of hers as trophies.

“But you look so strong, though…” Sofia commented.

“I am. That is why I was able to talk them down.”

“But why not just scare them away?”

“Sometimes meeting on a mutual ground is easier. It avoids headaches later down the line.”

“If you’re so strong, can you help us? Please?”

Gazhnahk looked at Helen during Sofia’s plea. She had hoped she would chastise her daughter, but she only added fuel to the flame.

“Durahd’s clan terrorizes us, and not just the people of this village, but so many others. Please… You look like you can help us.”

Gazhnahk shook her head. It was not her place to involve herself, to disrupt the order of other realms. Her duty was that of an observer: to watch and learn. Besides, what would be the point? She didn’t owe them anything, and another group would eventually come to fill the void she would create.

“I’ll think about it… That’s a lot that you’re both asking for.” Another lie. Gazhnahk had no intention of helping.

“That’s all we can ask for, I suppose. Thank you.”

“It is I who should be thanking you.”

A few hours passed as Helen and Gazhnahk continued to chat. Sofia had fallen asleep after only an hour or two, curling herself up in a rug. Helen handed Gazhnahk her own rug to sleep in before wrapping herself up and heading to bed. They slept in rugs like beggars, Gazhnahk thought, lying down with a rug on top of her, no different from them. Her exhaustion had made her indifferent to the matter. The comfort of closing her tired eyes was the only thing that mattered to her now.

Sleep was never easy for Gazhnahk, and tonight was no different. She was running through a cave, a large basilisk slithering close behind her. The nightmare caused cold sweat to soak the earth beneath her. Ever closer the basilisk got with each step the orc took. Even though she sprinted as fast as she could, the snake crawled along the ground more quickly. As it drew near, it opened its wide maw before chomping down on Gazhnahk. The Akaal’s eyes snapped open. 

Nightmares were not something new to her, but that did not make them any less unpleasant. Before she could even properly register what she had dreamt, her mind began to register something else she saw. It was Helen looming over the orc with a rusty blade, being brought closer to the orc’s neck. This brought Gazhnahk out of her slumber like ice-cold water being poured on her. She wrapped her hand around Helen’s twig-like wrist and yanked her away while squeezing tightly. An underfed woman was easy for the orc to outmatch in a contest of strength. Gazhnahk hurriedly began to get up while maintaining her hold on Helen. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Gazhnahk shouted in a rage.

Helen let go of the blade and let it fall to the ground as the orc squeezed her wrist. She remained kneeling at the uruk’s feet and began to sob.

“Please, I’m sorry… I just needed your things for my daughter, I’m begging, don’t hurt me.. She’s starving, and I could’ve gotten food… please, I’m sorry.. It was for her- think of her-”

“Don’t try to use your kid to justify your wrongdoings.” Gazhnahk squeezed harder on her wrist, “You’d be lucky if all I did was hurt you.”

Then, just for the briefest moment, Gazhnahk paused as the woman continued to sob. It took only a moment for the orc to feel a degree of pity and empathy as her eyes looked up and glimpsed Sofia. In the corner, she hid beneath rugs, silently watching, stilled by fear.

“Thank her, for she is the only reason you will go on to continue living out your miserable existence.” 

The Akaal threw the woman to the ground, who remained a sobbing, disheveled mess as Gazhnahk gathered her belongings, including her weapons from outside, and headed off. It was dawn when the orc set out once more. She had decided she had her fill of this dump as she logged what she learned from Helen in her journal, though she would come back to learn more one day. As the Akaal prepared to set off into the depths of the cosmos again, she ‌hoped it would offer more than trash.

 

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