Gerald "Red" Dingo's Story

For the past two months all of us have been traveling together with as a mercenary group. Each of you having joined for a variety of reasons, though the fifty gold per month didn't hurt either. While you know each other's names and obviously what we would glean from fighting alongside one another in battle and the occasional awkward fireside chat, you still know very little of each other. The company is being led by a human who you know only as Red. An appropriate name given to the large lumbering man with fire-red hair. The man wears no armor and you can see many past scars from his seemingly idiocy. He carries a chipped stone ax that would appear to large for even him. You know him to be fierce and loyal to those he commands.

As of his last scheme we have made our way through through the Dark Woods at his request to save time on the journey. Although the group mostly kept to the Oaken Groves for safety . We are here to slay a local group of orc raiders that are rumored to have taken up host within. They have been attacking the few caravans that are making their way through the Whistling Gap basically crippling the smaller villages along the way.

The group is making it's way out of the edge of the forest heading towards the rocky side of the Northern Mountain Range. The clear sunny sky above is obscured by the clawing branches. A light breeze stirs the undergrowth. Up ahead out of the treeline and across the short distance of grass you see the rocky crags that hide your destination. Suddenly Red notices activity ahead and signals for everyone to crouch it a quick gesture of his hand.

As the group collectively crouches and stares ahead you notice two large bestial figures menacingly brandishing spears at a frail-looking old man. He is on the ground backing away as they move in on him. The creatures have flat faces marked by narrow eyes and small tusks. "Orcs." Red mutters. Although he doesn't immediately move to help he does look to the rest of the group. "Where there is one, there is many. "

Red's voice garnered a low growl to roll out of Garekk's toothy maw, his tiny tusks shifting in aggression as his golden eyes fixed themselves on the figures in the distance. Garekk had met many orcs in his life, most of these encounters had ended abruptly and violently. Mud blood he was called, or sometimes just weakling. To an orc, a full blood orc, Garekk was small and ugly, looking very human with his pale green skin and tiny laughable excuses for tusks. Garekk's mind flashed back for the briefest of moments to his most recent encounter with his own kind. He vaguely remembered the slur of insults and laughing. The beating however he remembered just fine. He was left in a rocky valley with three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder.

Garekk blinked and his eyes refocused on the orcs not more than forty feet away. He growled again and shifted in his new armor. Garekk lowered his gaze for a moment and uncomfortably slid his thumb beneath the breastplate before pulling on it for a few useless moments, hoping for a little more comfort. The rugged iron armor was made for a human as it was human made and thussly did not take into account a half orcs added size and bulk when compared with their human counterparts. Odd that Garekk suffered ridicule from his orcish brethren for being too small when his human kin looked on him as some lumbering monstrosity. The irony was not lost on the big half orc as he resigned to his uncomfortable fate and looked back up to the orcs in the distance.

The half breed reached for the one handed iron mace hanging from his hip and grunted in impatience as he waited for the moment to charge. The mace he'd gotten from the same armorer that sold him the iron armor was of similar construction. Simple, cheap and rugged but durably made. The weapon was of basic construction, a small to medium sized weapon consisting of a leather wrapped shaft with a ball of spikes for the head. Not overly complicated like that elven garbage but killed people just as dead. Garekk flicked his eyes to Red for a moment before speaking in a hushed tone. His deep voice rolling out of his throat like the growl of a bear.

"I'm gunna go say hello to the family."

With that Garekk rose and charged out of the cover of the treeline. He raced at the orcs with mace in hand and a fearsome roar tearing from his lungs. The orcs turned in surprise and bloodthirsty welcome to the challenge. The old human breathed a sigh of relief at the momentary reprieve from death as the single half orc and two orcs charged at each other.

Days had become ordinary, with endless travel, towns to get to, and yet more people and things to fight. The day where people would set down their weapons to figure out the cause of all present chaos was a fantasy in Keiron's mind. There would never be any such thing, nor would there be a day where two swords do not collide, nor would there be a day when people stopped thinking they were better than the next man. The shortcomings of the world became an oppressive mirage to the war veteran. But his train of thought was broken as their supposed organizer, Red, called for them to get down out of sight from some troubling orcs harassing an elderly man.

Not caring too much if they saw, Keiron bent over just slightly, more so because he was trying to get a better view of what was actually going on, and tried to listen in on what the orcs were preparing to do. But he did not even get to do that, as Garekk related himself back to his orcish heritage and charged recklessly into the open beyond the rocks they were trying to hide behind with his mace in hand. Having nothing better to do, Keiron thought to pitch in.

"On your right!" Keiron called to Garekk, as an aqua energy began flowing from the crystal, across his chest, and spiraled down his arm to his hand. Sparking loudly, a wave of energy shot like a cannon at an orc, damaging its armor severely or if not, killing the fiend as it would fly back and slide across the ground. He then casually, carrying his longsword by his side, hopped over the wall of rocks Red tried to get his group to get behind and slowly followed behind their halfling companion.

"Come on, kiddies," he said sarcastically as all of them were older than him, "let's help the man." Following his suggestion, he went over the the old man, surely taken by surprise now, and scanned with his eyes to see what sort of condition he was in. Subsequently, he looked back to the forest around them, seeing if any more orcs Red believed were there were actually heading towards the group, and finally to Garekk to see how he was handling his opponent.

"Don't hurt yourself, Garekk," he remarked with a smirk.

Garekk could almost feel his blood come alive as his heart pounded in his chest. The rhythmic stomping of his feet as he barreled forward, his boots trampling the dirt beneath his feet in his charge. The cold metal in his hand and the savage, snarling breaths he was taking as he rushed forward made him feel amazing. It was nearly indescribable except to say that in those moments, those precious seconds before the clash of steel and the spilling of blood that Garekk felt truly like an orc.

He reached his opponents and had to duck immediately or taste a spear thrust. Dipping beneath the initial blow from the orc on his right he tackled the orc on the left. The two went tumbling to the dirt in a chaotic mess of growls and green muscle. Garekk rolled to his feet almost at the same moment his opponent did the same. The orc cast a glance at his compatriot just in time to see a blast of bluish white energy take his kinsmen right off his feet. The orc turned back to Garekk with a look of shock and concern to which the half orc only grinned wickedly, flashing his small jagged tusks.

Garekk lunged forward, mace coming up to catch the orc on the chin but the larger opponent caught his wrist with his free hand in a vice like grip. With a growl the orc lunged forward with the tip of the spear ready to skewer the smaller half orc but Garekk used his smaller stature to his advantage and side stepped the stab even while being restrained by one hand. He stepped in closer, avoiding the lunge and grabbed the orcs spear arm with his free hand. Each warrior's weapon arm was restrained by the other and the two were caught in a battle of strength. In this contest the larger, stronger full breed should have had little trouble over powering the smaller hybrid but what Garekk lacked in comparable strength he made up for with brutal cunning.

He leaned forward into a viscous headbutt that shattered the orc's nose. The orc back peddled in pain as his nose erupted blood. Garekk's weapon arm now free he swung hard at the orc's right knee. The weapon connected and smashed the knee cap instantly. The orc howled in pain as he dropped to the ground.

"TUDUK MAL!"

The orc cursed, maliciously insulting the half breed's mixed blood.

"Don't hurt yourself, Garekk,"

Came Keiron's voice from a few paces behind him. The sarcasm was evident in the spellsword's voice which brought a dark grin to the half breed's face as he moved to finish with his orcish kin. Garekk stepped forward and kicked him in the teeth, loosing a few of the orcs front incisors.

"Nurdon murguul..."

Garekk swore back in a cold, deadly tone. His insult spoke to the orcs weakness in battle and unworthiness. That insult would be the last words ever heard by the orc as Garekk brought his mace down hard on the skull of the orc. Bone and brain matter spurt out from the point of impact before the body dropped over with a few sudden spasmatic twitches. Garekk turned back to Keiron with a smirk of his own as he shouldered his mace casually.

"You gunna finish off the one you blasted?"

He asked jokingly as he heard the orc groan as it tried to stumbled to it's uneasy feet. Garekk liked Keiron, he took to the spellsword shortly after meeting him. The two made it a habit of trying to one up each other in combat but it was all in good natured competitiveness. Truth was that the human was among the few friends Garekk had.