CHAPTER ONE
“Do you see them?”
The whispered words were barely audible over the cacophony of insects in the night.
“Not yet, but they won’t stay hidden for long. I have more soldiers sweeping the forest as we speak.” Came the soft reply. The voice was elegant and feminine, yet sharp and commanding. “Let’s move on, be careful not to stray too close to the orc stronghold, the beasts would probably love a reason to fight.”
“They should know their place. Orc filth isn’t even good enough for our blades. Ugh, I can smell them from here.” Spoke the first voice.
“Well they don’t, and we don’t have time for an incident, so keep quiet and let’s go.” The feminine voice was sharp and brokered no argument.
The softest of footsteps heading away were the only sign that they’d moved on. Several feet from where the voices originated, an unlikely pair quietly crouched in their hiding place among the bushes.
“You did well to control yourself.” The voice was much like that of the feminine voice heard before, but no malice dripped from her words.
“I should have cleaved their heads from their bodies. But I couldn’t risk putting either of you in harm’s way.” The male voice was gruff, like someone speaking from the back of their throat.
The female unconsciously looked down at the bundle in her arms. “We were lucky he didn’t wake.” She looked back up at the male as her face took a pained expression. “You know what we have to do.” She said softly.
“NO! We can fight our way through.” The rough words came out panicked and pleading.
“You can’t take them all my love, and you know that I’m in no condition to fight. My strength has not yet returned.” She replied in sadness. “We have only a small chance of escape, and I won’t risk his life.”
The pleading look on the man’s face slowly turned to despair as the truth in her words started to erode his stubbornness. She had always had that effect on him, he hated and loved it at the same time. “OK, Dushnikh Yal is just through the woods there.” He said with a point. “I’ll leave him at the gate.”
“Oh no you won’t.” She softly laughed. “Sneaking never was your strong suit, I’ll take him.” With that, she quietly started to move off in the direction of the stronghold. After a few silent steps, she paused and turned back to her companion with a look of concern. “Are you sure he’ll be taken in?” She asked worriedly.
“Yes.” He replied steadfast. “Orsimer won’t turn their own away.”
And with that, the woman turned and disappeared into the woods as quietly as if she never existed.
---- 20 YEARS LATER ----
The honed ax sliced through the crisp Skyrim air and stuck in the old wooden stump with a THUNK.
Grogon stood to his full height and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He was naked from the waist up, with simple leather breaches covering his bottom half. Even for an orc he was tall. Standing at least 6’4” he towered over most everyone he met. Olive green skin was stretched tight over the bulging muscles that most any Nord would envy. For an Orsimer though, he was a little smaller than most adult males. Something they wouldn’t ever let him forget. That was just one feature that set him apart from his brethren. The most notable was that he lacked the prominent tusks that all orc displayed. He still had larger canines than a human would, and they did protrude in front of his upper teeth, but they weren’t always on display like the average orc. Instead they were only seen when he smiled… or snarled. The end result was Grogon. He was decidedly orc by everyone he met, except by the Orsimer themselves, who never quite accepted him fully because of his differences.
“I should have known you’d be taking a break.”
Grogon turned with a smile at the voice to see Gharol, his adopted mother in all but title, walking to where he chopped wood just outside the gates of Dushnikh Yal. She wore clothes very similar to Grogon, but had a heavy brown leather blacksmith’s apron draped over her front. It was stained and weathered from years of use. “And just what would you be doing away from the forge?”
“Umurn can handle things just fine. Here.” She declared as she stuck her arm out to him and produced a basket.
“Thanks.” Grogon replied as he hurriedly took the basket and sifted through its contents.
“You know you could eat inside with the rest of us.” Gharol stated flatly as she watched him bite into a chunk of elk meat.
“Umph.” He grunted through a mouthful. He swallowed and wiped the grease away from his mouth with his forearm. “I’ve got wood to cut.”
Gharol just nodded as she watched him take another bite. She knew better than anyone about how the rest of the clan viewed him as an outsider. The physical traits that set him apart initially were only part of the reason. When he was young, Grogon had wanted nothing more than to be part of the clan. He desperately wanted to fit in and be a warrior of the tribe. But those hopes were quickly dashed by Chief Burguk, her husband. The differences that the chief saw in Grogon were just too many and too great for her traditionalist husband to overcome. Instead, the menial tasks of the stronghold were relegated to Grogon. At first, Grogon had been crushed by not being seen as equal, but as he spent more and more time outside of the walls while he hunted or cut firewood, the more and more the walls seemed to confine him when he was inside. Pretty soon he would venture further and further from the walls in order to procure food. Once he’d even found the entrance to an old dwemer ruin and had almost went in, but his dedication to the stronghold and their need for food set him back on track.
Grogon finished up another bite and looked back at Gharol, who looked deep in thought. “I’m going to hunt elk when I finish here. I noticed the meat stores are starting to get a little low again.” He said, breaking the silence.
“Just don’t wander too far.” She replied with a smirk, knowing full well that the meat stores were fine. With that, she turned and started back up the hill.
“I’ll be in by dark Gharol.” Grogon called after her. He used her name with as much love as if calling her mother. He’d actually called her mother once before when he was much younger. Chief Burguk had overheard the exchange and rewarded Grogon with the back of the chieftain’s hand to his jaw. It was a mistake that Grogon had only made once.
A mere hour later and Grogon set the axe down on the freshly cut, pile of wood. The promise of a hunt had quickened his pace. He slid on his tunic and slipped his dagger into his belt, while reaching over to his hunting bow. The sun shone down on him as he grinned, it was still early afternoon, and there was a new area that he wanted to adventure to today.
-----
The canopy of the forest had blocked out most of the sunlight and provided a pleasant shade as he moved through the dense undergrowth. He was quieter than most Orcs, a skill he always seemed to have. The skill had only grown as he spent more and more time hunting for the clan. His hunting bow was held loosely in his hand without an arrow nocked. In all honesty the hunt was an afterthought compared to the promise of new exploration. With every step that he took in a new direction, the further the idea of a hunt receded into his mind. The trek through the woods south of the stronghold had taken him longer than he’d hoped. Even though he quickened his pace, he knew he’d have to turn back before too long. The hunt, and more importantly the adventure, was going to end in disappointment.
Grogon finally came to a stop amidst the trees. Maybe tomorrow. He thought hopefully, while turning around. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find something, an adventure, or some long forgotten ruin, maybe even something that he could take back to the stronghold and hold high for everyone to see. A small sarcastic smile appeared in an instant. Like anyone would care if he brought back something. They’d only ask why I had been wasting time traipsing through the woods when I could have been bringing home dinner.
Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t notice something moving in front of him. Snapping out of his reverie, Grogon stopped at once and slowly moved his free hand to the quiver on his back. It was an elk, the absence of antlers let him know that it was more than likely a cow. While a little smaller in size, their meat was more tender than a bull elk. She hadn’t seen him yet. Her long legs continued to carry her through the forest at a nice slow gait. It was amazing how quiet something so large could move through the underbrush. The arrow was now nocked and Grogon began the slow and measured movement of pulling the bow string back with his left hand while pushing the bow itself out in front with the other hand. Right as the nock reached the corner of his mouth, his quarry moved into a denser patch of vegetation. Shit. The kill zone was now out of his field of view and she showed no sign of stopping. Releasing the tension on the bowstring, Grogon began moving as quickly as he dared to his right. He couldn’t risk getting too close, but by moving parallel to the elks path, he hoped to get a shot. He was now in the thick undergrowth that the elk was moving through, briars grabbed and pulled at his tunic as he fought to move to forward. What was only a few seconds seemed like minutes when he finally emerged on the other side of the thicket. His eyes darted around for any sign of his prey. There! She was standing still looking in front of her, clearly interested in something that Grogon couldn’t see. But he wasn’t concerned, she was standing broadside and he had the perfect shot. The bow began its measured movement back into place.
“You’re coming with us, right NOW!” The words split through the silent forest with the same effect as a clap of thunder.
Birds immediately flew from their branches and the elk broke and ran back through the thicket from which it had just come.
“Gggraahhh.” Grogon snarled out of annoyance as he lowered the bow and looked to the direction of the unwelcome sounds.
“I don’t know who you think I am, and I don’t care. Leave me alone!” A second voice, female, responded, sounding alarmed.
At that moment a dark skinned woman broke through the trees into the clearing where Grogon now stood alone. She had only made it a step or two in the clearing before two dark skinned men broke through the brush behind her and grabbed her arms.
“I don’t have time for this foolishness. Now come along quietly and we don’t have to get rough.” One of the men remarked.
“Stop! Let go! You’re hurting me!” The female screamed as she continued to fight against the hands that grabbed her.
“What’s going on here?” Grogon asked loudly, announcing his presence.
All three people turned in surprise at the voice. The man closest to Grogon recovered from the shock quickly though.
“This doesn’t concern you traveler.” He stated.
“Please get them off of me!” The woman exclaimed, still trying to free her wrist.
Grogon took a step forward menacingly. “Let her go.” He grunted through gritted teeth. He surprised himself with the remark. He didn’t know why he was intervening, he didn’t know the woman or what the situation even was.
“Hold on to her.” The first man told the other, as he unsheathed his sword. “This will only take a second.” He started forward slowly.
Grogon dropped the bow and pulled the dagger from his belt. He was not a skilled fighter. The only training he’d had was fighting Umurn with wooden swords when they were younger. As they grew they were expected to dedicate themselves to the tasks of the stronghold of which they’d been given. Knowing that he was outnumbered and at a disadvantage because of the weapons, his only chance was to act fast. With a roar, he rushed the man threatening him and tackled him to the ground before he had a chance to swing his sword. The move had worked, and the dark skinned man was now struggling mightily to keep hold of his sword. Grogon grabbed the man’s wrist that held the sword with one hand while trying to stab the man with his other. His speed and superior strength had him at an early advantage, but it vanished quickly when he received a powerful kick in the ribs from the second man, which rolled him off of the man under him. In the shock and pain, Grogon had lost his grip on his dagger and reached over to cover his injured ribs.
Seizing the opportunity, the first man rolled on top of Grogon and raised his sword for the kill. Realizing that he’d lost, time seemed to slow down for Grogon, he watched the moment that his attackers sword begin to fall and he closed his eyes, ready to meet his fate. Just as he began to wonder if he would feel the killing blow of if it’d kill him instantly, a warm liquid showered onto Grogon’s face. A scream split the air, and Grogon’s eyes shot back open.
“AHHHHHH!” The horrified attacker quickly let go of Grogon and grasped a bloody stump where his hand used to be. He fell off of Grogon and continued to scream as he rolled around on the ground.
The woman continued to scream in terror as Grogon and the other man looked in shock at the new arrival. Another orc stood at his side, armed with an orcish longsword and dressed not unlike Grogon.
“I suggest you get your friend and get out of here before I kill you and he bleeds to death.” The orc growled.
Without a word, the dark skinned man let go of the woman and pulled his own sword with one hand while picking up his wounded companion with the other. With the man now on his feet, they both backed away through the forest at an increasing speed until they both finally broke and ran.
“Get up.” The Orc grunted as he offered his hand to help Grogon up. “We should hurry in case there are others.
“Thanks Umurn.” Grogon wheezed as he grabbed his bruised ribs and stood up. “Where’d the woman go?” He asked, looking around.
“She took off as soon she could.” Umurn snickered. “You know you could have been killed.” He continued, looking at Grogon with a mixture of admonishment and concern.
“I’ll admit it wasn’t one of my better ideas. But I had him right where I wanted him.” Grogon replied with a smirk.
“Ha! It looked like it.” Umurn laughed. “Let’s get back before mother skins both our hides.”
Grogon stole a sideways glance at the comment as they walked along. Umurn was Gharol’s son and true son of Chief Burguk. But that never stopped Umurn from treating Grogon like his own true brother. Umurn, his sister Lash, and Grogon were all close in age and had grown up, hunted, worked, and played together. With the coming of age, things changed drastically as Lash abruptly chose to leave the stronghold shortly after turning 16. The event signalled the end of their childhoods. Shortly after, Umurn became his mother’s apprentice, and Grogon began his menial tasks.
“Why are you out here anyway?” Grogon asked. Still looking at his brother.
“Mother gave me permission to hunt with you.” He shrugged, “You had mentioned wanting to go south last night. So that’s the way I went. And you’re lucky I did.” He finished, shooting a serious look at Grogon.
Grogon couldn’t seem to keep his brothers eye contact and he looked back down at his own feet as they marched toward home. The two Orc’s didn’t speak after that exchange. It was only when the torches of the stronghold could be seen that Umurn broke the silence.
“Burguk will be in a mead induced slumber by now. I suggest you keep to yourself and get to bed. There’s no need in anyone knowing what happened tonight.”
“Alright.” Grogon responded. In truth, his pride was hurt at needing to be saved. He was grateful for his brother of course, but his pride stung more than his ribs.
The two strode past the guards at the gate as if they had just been out for a walk. Umurn headed to the forge where his bed was located, and Gorgon headed over to the quiet part of the stronghold near the mine where his bedroll was kept. His personal space was small, an old wooden crate and a bedroll were all that marked his existence. Storing his bow, quiver, and dagger in the crate, he turned to the elkhide bedroll.
“Ughh.” He grunted into the darkness as he slid into his bedroll. I hope my ribs aren’t broken. I’ll need to make some more arrows tomorrow. I know at least one broke when I rolled onto my back. The thoughts continued to swirl through his mind as lay looking at the stars overhead. The mixture of hunger, fatigue, and pain kept him awake for another hour before sleep finally claimed him.
-----
PAIN. The sensation awakened Grogon in an instant, and he curled to cover his wounded ribs.
“GET UP!” Chief Burguk roared as he towered over him readying himself for another kick.
Grogon quickly shed his bedroll and stood to face the chieftain. Burguk was the quintessential orc warrior in every way. His gray steel armor cut off at each shoulder to reveal his massively muscular arms. His face was painted with an orange Orismer symbol that showed his status of chief. Two large tusks protruded from his lower lip. One was pierced with a golden ring that hung over his lip. His long, black hair was pulled back with golden rings spaced every few inches. Even though Grogon stood taller than the chief, the hugely muscular chief stared down Grogon.
“DO YOU KNOW WHY I’M TALKING TO YOU!?” The chief shouted.
Grogon’s eyes glanced anxiously around at the Orc faces that gathered around to see what was happening. “No sir.” Was the only response he could muster.
“I’M HERE BECAUSE I HAD A REDGUARD AT MY GATE THIS MORNING ASKING ABOUT AN ORC ASSAULT!” He yelled. Lowering his voice and closing the distance between the two until their noses almost touched, “And I only know one Orc in here dumb enough to do something like that.”
Grogon’s eyes surveyed the gathered crowd and finally settled on Umurn and Gharol who stood by the forge looking helpless and worried.
“I was only defending a woman.” Grogon muttered lamely.
Chief Burguk squinted his eyes in a look of disgust. “What concern is any of that to you? You hunt and cut wood. Those are your jobs here. That’s it!”
Grogon stayed silent, looking down at the chief dumbly, .
Burguk turned back to the crowd and looked around in anticipation, “Now the Redguard said there were TWO Orcs. Who is the other?”
Umurn locked eyes with Grogon, made a stern face, and started to move forward.
“NO ONE!” Grogon yelled before Umurn could mutter a word. “I was alone.” He continued.
Umurn looked shocked, but remained silent.
“HA! You? Alone?” The chief asked suspiciously after turning back around. “You expect me to believe you faced down two men?” He continued with a chuckle.
Grogon stood to his full height, set his jaw and looked straight ahead. “I did.”
“I don’t believe you.” The Chieftain stated dismissively as he started to turn back around.
“If you’re calling me a liar, then I challenge you.” Grogon stated loudly.
Chief Burguk whirled around with a look of shock and indignation on his face. “YOU DARE CHALLENGE ME!?”
Grogon saw Gharol close her eyes and her shoulders slump just slightly at the declaration. Locking eyes with the chief and standing even taller to show his height dominance he continued. “I do.”
Burguk glared at the young Orc with hatred in his eyes. “Then I accept.” He seethed through gritted teeth.
Grogon exhaled the breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding then barely had time to move to the side as Chief Burguk unleashed a lethal punch directed at his face. Fighting though the pain in his ribs, Grogon used his long legs and superior speed to circle around the chief and get a little distance between them. Burguk, on the other hand, had taken on the squat stance of a fighter. With his fists raised and powerful shoulders set, he steadily moved closer.
OK think through this. He has the strength and experience. I have speed and agility. He’s fighting mad. I need to fight smart. The thoughts raced through Gorgon’s head as he barely dodged another vicious punch. With a quickness that even surprised himself, Gorgon countered with a punch of his own that connected hard with the Chiefs jaw. For a second everything stopped. The crowd which had started to cheer at the one sided spectacle froze in amazement. Chief Burguk’s face turned from a look of rage to utter shock, and was only matched by Gorgon’s own look of surprise. The moment was over quickly when a few of the spectators actually cheered and broke the short silence. The Chieftain set his face again, this time with even more hatred in his eyes.
The fight continued in the same way, the Chieftain would swing and miss, and the younger Orc would counter punch with precision. The Orc crowd had almost worked itself into a frenzy at the sight and smell of blood and action. Burguk had taken most of the beating with Grogon barely being touched. Until it happened. Grogon continued making his quick predatory circles around his opponent when his foot caught an uneven patch of ground. He toppled over to the side and as soon as he hit the ground Burguk was on him. Punch after powerful punch, rained down on Grogon’s face and body, he tried in vain to block what he could, but his adversary was driven by the berserker rage that had overcome him. Grogon’s blocks started getting slower and slower until he ceased to move. It took four adult male Orc’s to pull the chief off of him.
“Get me water!” Gharol shouted as she appeared quickly next to Grogon.
In an instant Umurn was at her side with a jug of cold well water. She took the jug hurriedly and unceremoniously dumped it on Gorgon’s bloody face. After a second, Gorgon began to cough and sputter as the water washed over him.
“He’s alive!” Umurn exclaimed, with a look of relief.
*cough* “I had him.” *cough* Grogon sputtered out. With a groan, he rolled on to his side and spit a glob of blood onto the ground.
“You are a fool.” Gharol admonished, still dabbing at the cuts on Grogon’s face with the tail of her shirt. “What on earth would make you challenge Chief Burguk?”
“It sounded like a good idea at the time.” Grogon replied weakly as he tried to get up.
With Umurn under one arm and Gharol under the other, they somehow managed to get the injured Orc to stand. Only to be face to face with Chief Burguk, who had calmed considerably since the fight.
“You can stay until you are healed. Then I want you out of Dushnikh Yal.” And with that declaration, he turned and walked back into the longhouse.
No one offered any argument as they turned and led Grogon toward the forge.
-----
Grogon stood, alone, just outside the gate of Dushnikh Yal in his leather breeches and linen shirt with a small pack of provisions on his back. Although it had only been a week, the swelling and bruises on his face had gone down considerably. Unusually fast healing was something that had shown itself from early on with him.
“Here.” Gharol said as she appeared behind him, producing a large sack. “Umurn is working, he wanted to see you off, but someone has to stay by the forge.” She stated flatly. “And I pulled rank.”
“Thanks Gharol.” Grogon sighed as he took the heavy sack. “What is it?”
“A full set of armor. It’ll fit perfectly, I know your size. You’ll need it I’m sure.” She paused to look out over the forest. “As you know, anger, regret, and pride are put into our steel. This set has more than its fair share of each.”
Looking down at her, Grogon almost thought he saw a tear. Almost.
“There is something else in there.” She continued. “I made a sword for Lash. She left so quickly I didn’t have time to finish it. Take it to her.”
“I will.” Grogon declared proudly, as if he’d been tasked with taking a crown to a king.
“Don’t get your fool-self killed.” Gharol said softly as she looked up at him.
“I’ll make you proud mom.” He responded softly.
With that last look, Grogon took off down the hill away from Dushnikh Yal. When he was out of site, Gharol turned and headed back inside the gate.
Table of Contents | Chapter Two
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Moreover in my view, they should've at lea... more