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Nestled among the evergreen pines and blanketed by a fresh
new layer of quiet white snow, a mountain cave sheltered
a small family of orcs. The night was cold and moonless
but the protective mother held her precious young son, Grulg'dush,
close to her and the orcish child felt safe and warm. Just
outside their cozy home however lurked a danger that was
hell bent on destroying this loving family, the humans.
The small child's father was a strong warrior and thus
his instincts told him that something was wrong. The muscled
male orc gripped his axe as he paced the cave's mouth, his
uneven breaths casting small clouds of vapor towards the
sky. Slowly he would scan the trees that surrounded his
home but his keen eyes only saw his own shadow cast by the
flickering fire just inside the cavern. The dark night seemed
calm but somehow he knew the serenity would soon be broken.
Grulg'dush's mother turned his head away from his father
with a gentle hand. Now he could not watch his beloved father
pace like a caged animal ready to strike, he could not see
him grip the shaft of his weapon nervously or hear the muttered
curses that were lost in the night. Strangely enough the
boy was not calmed, he too had a warrior's instinct and
the presence of an enemy began to pull at the nape of his
neck. He could feel his mother's strong heart as well, the
quickening beat and staggered thumps and thuds, and he knew
that she too could feel the oncoming assault.
Then suddenly the snow was quiet no longer. A group of
human raider's surged towards his father through the shadowed
pines. Each swung wicked blades above their helmeted heads
already dripping with the blood of the orcish people. Grulg'dush's
father was ready for them however and within moments the
largest human was skewed on his heavy axe.
Unfortunately this small victory spoke only of the orc's
demise. The gore that swam from the human's spilled belly
played havoc with the orc's grip and soon the mighty axe
fell beside the dead man's body whose still warm blood already
turned the soft new snow to a horrid picture of scarlet
murder. When the next man came the orc was defenseless and
the arm that he thrown up to shield himself was savagely
taken from him as the raider's cruel sword flew towards
his head.
A cry of rage, a second strike and the unforgiving steel
of a weapon brought the warrior down. His yellowed eyes
rolled back into his skull and an ichor filled froth began
to pour from his gapping mouth as the murderous human pulled
his bloodstained blade from his quickly collapsing chest.
His father was dead and Grulg'dush's mother was their next
victim.
She too fought valiantly but the overpowering force of
numbers was too much. The men surrounded her and her precious
son and soon one of them had her by the throat, slowly coaxing
the life from her body as he pulled his knife across her
neck. The small boy was forced to watch his mother die.
In this moment he remembered his mother's strong beating
heart and cursed it now for pulsing her blood out of her
body. Mercifully he was struck in the head and lost consciousness
before he could witness what the men did to his mother next.
He awoke the next morning amid the still and ravaged bodies
of his parents. A light fall of snow had begun to cover
the gruesome scene but the terrible occurrence could never
be erased from the young orc's mind. Quickly he went to
his mother's side and was momentarily relieved to see that
her chest still rose and fell. The excited young orc immediately
started to tear his cloths to make bandages but his rapid
movements disturbed the snow and uncovered his father's
grand axe. For a moment he was forced to wonder how his
father had died.
Carefully he began to mend his mother's wounds. Although
she was still alive she hung close to death and Grulg'dush,
even at his young age, could tell she would not survive
another night. In spite of his knowledge he still attempted
to heal her. He would never leave her and somehow it seemed
his mother knew this and so she left him. She went peacefully
that night.
Cold and alone the small orcish boy buried his parents.
He drug their lifeless bodies to a solemn spot high above
his humble cave home. At that spot he left his childhood
behind as he held his father's axe high above his head and
made a promise to average his parents' death. His life was
ahead of him and let the humans beware because he was not
going to let them go unpunished.
With only his father's weapon as a companion the young
orcish man set out to find his people. For years his mother
had spoke of another tribe of orcs in a fairy tale but since
the raiders killed his people this tale was the only thing
he could hold onto. The tale told of his journey before
him, of the mountains, deserts, and swamps that would serve
as barriers on his journey. He knew the way would be hard
but still he would go, still he would forge on, still he
would survive.
The way would be difficult for a caravan who knew where
they were going. For a lone orc who knew little of his path
and had only a axe and determination on his side, the way
would be nigh on impossible. Imagine for a moment that it
did happen, that a lone young orc did survive the impassable
journey. Then imagine how much a long adventure could change
an impressionable young orcish man and you'll know what
it was like to see the lone Grulg'dush as he strode upon
uncharacteristically long muscled legs towards the land
of the Shadowclan orcs.
It was not far from their camp when he heard the tell-tail
voices of the wicked humans that he hated and feared so
much. His mind reeled back to the night that his parents
were murdered and he knew there was no other possible outcome.
The humans had to die. He ran headlong into the human camp,
battle ensued shortly after.
There were four of them, a man and three women but to Grulg'dush
that hardly mattered. All that he could think was that they
would meet their end on the end of his axe, that his blade
would be wetted with the blood of these horrid creatures,
that it didn't matter if he did not survive the fight. Time
passed so slowly and he could take the time to look deep
into the human's eyes as he pulled the heavy axe through
their frail bodies. He could smell the fear that permeated
them and he could taste the rage that burned in his belly.
They seemed to fall like feathers off a dieing bird. His
axe pulled flesh off of them with every swing and sprayed
it to the waiting ground below him. He reveled in the taste
of the gore that spilt into his mouth as he pushed his weapon
through one of the woman's stomach. He had tasted nothing
sweeter than the flesh that fell from his face into his
gaping gasping maw. His heart began to beat faster at the
sight of the delicious flesh and he had to will himself
not to stop fighting so that he could fill himself with
more of the scarlet flesh.
Grulg'dush had killed his second human when finally the
male struck him hard and he was forced to take a moment
to breathe. His breath came as an angered bellow however
and it served only to task his lungs further. He had been
through too much on his long journey and his body needed
some kind of rest. His muscles screamed for air as he struggled
to pull his axe around to the assaulting man.
His eyes filled with pain as he saw the human pull his
sword back to attack again. To him it was that fateful night
all over again. He was too weary and he could feel it would
not be long before he saw his parents again. He fought on.
Again he bellowed but this time in pain as the man's blade,
wickedly curved, cut a scarlet path across his chest. A
visage of his family shot to his mind when he finally breathed
again... he could see them, they were there with him, they
were killing the human. Grulg'dush smiled as he saw an orcish
weapon slam the human to the ground and his body somehow
felt new and untaxed again. With his renewed strength he
layed low the remaining woman but fell upon her chest with
the weight of the swing.
A day passed before he again could see the world in his
view. Now he realized what had occurred the night before.
It had been the Shadowclan, come to his aid after hearing
his fervent cries of battle. They had saved him in his time
of need. A new family arose about him... he would be Shadowclan
for they had seen his prowess in battle and they had deemed
him worthy.
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