10 Minutes Earlier...

Rhatheth, Daggerfall.

17th Banem 1092.

A flock of migrating birds gently flew over Daggerfall's tropical grasslands. Every year, they would relocate to Ederwood's tropical rainforests to escape Markoth's harsh cold. Then, when the month of Banem arrived, they would begin the long journey back home. Their migratory path took them through the tropical grasslands of Daggerfall, a region these migratory birds did not fancy because of its lack of trees.

"Hahaha! Grovitch, you shit stain! You bagged yourself a big one!"

Euphoric laughter booming across the hated land drew the flock's attention. The birds looked down, but then instantly increased their speed when they spotted the cluster of green-skinned creatures walking across the field. Within moments, no traces remained in the vicinity.

On the ground, the laughter was revealed to have originated from one of two orc hunting parties on their way back from their latest expedition. The hulking green masses, trekked alongside their giant boar mounts, laughing as they compared the newest catch against the other party's. This mission had lasted an entire week. That was a week spent scouring for prey during the day and sleeping under the stars at night. The Orcs missed their warm straw beds. They could not wait to return home and go several rounds with their women.

Daggerfall's grasslands lacked the widespread exotic beasts found in the region. The land's hot and humid climate, coupled with its sparse rainfall meant few creatures chose this place as their home. However, the abundant grasslands made it a haven for herbivores. The Orcs made this place their home for centuries as they sought to escape the world's eyes.

Several millennia had passed since Ferulic designed the first Orcs from the vilest of humish desires. When they were first created, Orcs knew nothing but slaughter and mayhem, and they did indeed plunge the world into chaos which caused them to be hated.

Fortunately, the passing of centuries continually diluted the madness within the Orkish bloodline. Roughly one-thousand years to this day, a mysterious man helped the Orcs purify their bloodline. This action directly promoted the Orcs from being labeled as savages on the levels of kobolds to a sentient race that could take their place next to the other humes.

However, the world was not ready to forgive the orcs for their past crimes just because they had become sentient creatures. If anything, the orcs' sentience meant they could finally get to enjoy watching the orcs wallow in pain at losing their loved ones. But as fate would have it, the orcs did not lose their strength or battlelust even after turning sentient.

The orcs were all too happy to engage the other races in a prolonged war that resulted in heavy losses on all sides. Eventually, the leaders of the world realized the pointlessness of the bloodshed and came to an agreement with the orcs. Daggerfall's lands were ceded to the orcs in return for the orcs' promise to never step out of it.

The orcs agreed to this arrangement. The entire Orkish tribe packed up and moved to Daggerfall. Upon arriving at the land, they split up into dozens of nomadic tribes spread across the country. These nomadic tribes would sometimes run into each other on the grasslands, and be forced to contest over a hunting ground.

In the past, both tribes would fight until one was utterly routed. The new tradition, however, was that a few selected individuals from each tribe would do battle. The winners would claim the hunting grounds while the losers would have to continue their search for a new hunting ground.

This way, the orkish tribes ensured their fighting prowess did not decline despite the relative peace.

The village of Rhatheth was one such nomadic village. The orcs walked alongside their giant boar mounts as they laughed and boasted about the looks of elation on their women's faces and the loud cries of pleasure that would make their neighbors jealous. Each orc claimed he was the manliest 'man' amongst the group, with some going so far as to display their excellent 'thrusting' game.

"Stop!"

The orcs' boisterous atmosphere seized as one of the party leaders raised his hand. The leader's eyes narrowed as he peered into the horizon. "Grovitch. Is that smoke I see?"

The orc called Grovitch was the leader of the second party. He stepped forward with a waraxe balanced on his shoulder and squinted as he too peered into the horizon. His features instantly twisted as panic shook his heart. "Durst, That's smoke! But, the village's still so far away. Why do we see smoke from here?"

"I don't know. But I don't like it," Durst replied, his voice tense with worry. "Hurry!" He roared and quickly jumped onto his mount.

By now, the trailing orcs could also see the smoke on the horizon. Panic seized their hearts, as the orcs quickly mounted their boars and chased after Durst's back.

Durst's breathing grew haggard, and his eyes turned red as the village came into view. Indeed the smoke was coming from the town! The thick plumes of smoke were too eye-catching in the plains. Durst's heart leaped to his throat as a terrifying notion took root in his mind. "Riyhad! Merthyl! Please be safe!" The orc captain cried out as he pushed the giant boar far beyond its limits.

Durst paled once he was within three hundred meters of the village. Fire and smoke scorched the land and consumed many huts. The perimeter walls had crumbled to dust, and corpses dotted the earth around the perimeter. The orc captain jumped off his giant boar once reached the village bounder and examined a nearby body with a grim look.

Grovitch dismounted and walked up to his friend's side. He took in the gruesome scene with a stony gaze. "This was a massacre."

"They were assassinated," Durst corrected. He pointed at the orcs' necks. "One clean cut each. The enemy is skilled."

"Enemy? You think one person did all this?" Grovitch looked at the long stretch of bodies.

"I'm certain," Durst said as he pointed at three nearby corpses. "The cuts are uniform across at least four bodies. The same blade used with the same technique. Unless the enemy can clone himself, this is the only reasonable explanation."

"This was not done by an orc." Grovitch's voice cracked, and he suddenly paled. He would have been as worried if this was done by orcs. There existed unwritten codes of conduct in Orkish communities for the rare chance that an orc tribe was driven to the point of desperation that they needed to raid another tribe. The raiding tribe shall only kill until their target was subdued and women and children were not to be harmed.

Grovitch had initially assumed this was the doing of a nearby orc tribe, but Durst just confirmed that wasn't the case. Would that not mean his children could be in danger? "Durst. I've got to check on the kids. You should see if your wife and daughter are—"

"Aaaah!"

A loud wail filled with pain, misery, and rage nearly tore out their eardrums. One scream turned to five, then ten, until they could no longer figure out just how many people were shouting.

Durst's face twisted with worry. He turned to look at Grovitch who wore a very similar expression. "Where are the men?"

"I sent them into the village to search for survivors," Grovitch said. His eyes suddenly turned red with rage as a thought surfaced in his mind. "Do you think they were ambushed?"

"Only one way to find out," Durst said as he rose to his feet. He nodded at his friend and they both grabbed their warax from the side of their mounts before running into the village.

Durst's eyes scanned the village streets as they ran toward the source of the screams. His brows furrowed in confusion as he realized he could not find signs of any corpses despite the burning buildings. Did the enemy kidnap their people? The orc captain's eyes burned with fury. If they dared to harm a hair on his daughter!

The orc captains recognized the source of the screams to be the village square. Both men picked up the pace, and after rounding the corner, they finally had the village square in view. However, they were stunned to find their path blocked by the orcs from the hunting party, all of whom had their head raised, bellowing in equal parts despair and rage. Some orcs sat listlessly on the earth, their gazes empty and bleak. These broken spirits were ready to give up on life at that moment.

Durst once again experienced an upheaval in his heart. What in the world could make so many brave warriors scream out this way? Dark clouds covered the orc captain's heart as he attempted to push his way through the crowd.

The wailing orcs were about to unleash their anger on the rude bastard pushing them, but their expressions changed when they realized it was their captains. Their subsequent actions only served to increase the worry in Durst's heart.

"Captain! Don't go! Captain!" The orcs shouted with pain and tears as they struggled to hold back Durst and Grovitch.

The captains were not stupid. The terrifying truth began to take root in their minds as they absentmindedly pushed their men out of the way. Both orc captain's eyes were heavy as stone, their noses stinging with the sharp smell of fresh blood. They needed to confirm this truth for themselves.

"Captain!"

"Stop! Captain!"

"Please wait, Captain!"

By this point, even the listless orcs had begun holding back the captains. The orcs desperately did their best to prevent their captains from entering the village square. Unfortunately, both Durst and Grovitch were captains for a reason. They successfully pushed their way into the village square, where a bone-chilling sight greeted them.

Mountains of corpses filled up the square. Old, young, infants, women, men... hundreds of corpses were piled up amongst thick smoke and fire. Thick blood flowed between these mountains, gushing like a river toward the plains. At the center of these mountains, a group of orcs was hurrying to untie some headless bodies that had been hoisted on poles.

"AAAH!" Grovitch's cry tore through the village as he recognized three children on the poles. "Mutch! Drackt! Fundu!" Grovitch called out to his sons, but how were they to answer their father's calls without their heads? Grovitch ran over and pushed the orcs who had been trying to untie the bodies out of the way.

The orcs had been trying to remove the bodies from the pole with as much care as possible, but Grovitch in his current state did not care about any of that. With a swing of his ax, the poles came crashing down, bringing his children's corpses with them.

Luckily, the orcs he pushed away recognized the danger and caught the pole before it hit the ground. They proceeded to gently lay the pole on the ground, and quickly untie the children. They then stepped aside as Grovitch grabbed the tiny bodies and hugged them to his chest. "I'll kill them! I'll slaughter them all! Daddy promises you! I will not rest until I find the ones who did this! I will bring you their heads! I promise! I promise! I promise!" Grovitch's men raised their heads and bellowed in rage alongside their captain. This was a sin that must be washed in blood. No one would rest until they found the culprits!

A few meters away from Grovitch, Durst watched as his men cut down his wife and child's bodies from the pole then gently place them on the ground in front of him. Durst knelt to the ground, hollow eyes looking at the bone bracelet on his daughter's left.

"Hehe, everyone's going to be so jealous!"

"Do not take pride in other's jealousy."

"Daddy, why are your tusks so big?"

"It's because daddy is strong."

"Daddy who's stronger? You or Uncle Grove?"

"Hmph. I'm ten times the orc that bastard is."

"Daddy. I wanna be a warrior when I grow up."

"Heh, I'll train you until you're the best."

"Daddy. The boys said love is weak. Am I weak? I love you."

"If that is true, your father is the weakest man of all. I love you more than anything in this world."

Durst's men broke down as they watched their captain converse with the bodies of his wife and children. They had never seen their leader so vulnerable. It felt like he would directly crumble to dust under the slightest pressure.

Contrary to their expectations, Durst rose to his feet after taking the bracelet from his daughter's arm. His eyes regained a sharp glint as he looked at his men. "Their heads?"

The orcs shook their heads. "We didn't find any. They may have taken them as trophies."

"I see," Durst muttered and shook his head. "Burn the bodies. A great evil has taken place here. We cannot let our people suffer after death. Also were there any survivors?"

"Just one," the orcs reported. "He was heavily injured and could barely speak. Luckily, our healer managed to keep him alive long enough to utter a single word."

"What did he say!?" Grovitch roared.

"Dwarfs."

"Dwarfs!" Grovitch roared with rage as realization dawned. "Those ungrateful bastards! We tolerate their presence, and they reward us with this! I'll kill them all! I'll slaughter them till the last man!" As his rage reached a fever peak, Grovitch suddenly realized he had not heard a word from his friend. He looked at Durst, only to see him wrap his daughter's bracelet around the grip of his favorite ax and calmly rise to his feet. "Hey! Are you not angry! Where are you going!?"

Durst turned to look at Grovitch. The emptiness in Durst's eyes chilled his friend to the core "What do you mean, where am I going?" Durst calmly retorted. "I know the enemy, and I know where they live. Where do you think I'm going?"

Grovitch's eyes widened with shock. For the first time in the history of their friendship, Grovitch became the voice of reason. "What do you think you're doing? Do you wanna get yourself killed!? You think you can raid them all by yourself!?"

"What do you expect me to do!?" Durst cried out in rage. "Wait? Wait for what!?"

"At least wait until we conduct the rite of passage!" Grovitch shouted. "Who's gonna send off your family in your place!"

"Their heads are out there in some bastard dwarf's basement! They can never pass on fully until I get those! There's no time to waste!"

SKREEE!

Both orcs froze as a huge red hawk zipped down into the village.

The hawk perched on the arms of an orc beast tamer. The orc fed the bird some meat then took out the scroll tied to its leg. He hurriedly handed the letter over to Durst when he saw the seal on it.

Durst's face paled as he read the contents of the letter.

"What happened!?" Grovitch could not wait any longer and demanded an answer.

"We were not the only villages hit this morning. An urgent meeting has been called at Qima to discuss countermeasures."

Grovitch's eyes narrowed. "Just how many were hit?"

Durst's gaze hardened as he looked out into the horizon. "Every village in this region."

!!!

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SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATREON STARS:

Residents: Andrew Maurer, Eli Calabria, Rusty Reaper

Adventurers: Hyproxy, Merlin252, Michael Barton

Warriors: Caleb Ian Melton, Ragnaf

The High Council: Paul C. Bergeson (@facemaster), Raymond Russel, Jacob Morgan

You Guys are the Best!!!

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