Open Chronicles Ambition, Unrestrained

[Infernal]

This is his mission, his purpose, his very birthright in this world so full of food. He already had himself a great deal of warriors, but the shamans told him he needed more, so many more, enough orcs to carpet the land, like a sea of violence and blood thirst. For this, he knew it was necessary to begin taking over the different tribes of orcs within the Steppes.

To absorb the members of another tribe into your own, you had to first kill their chief. This wasn't a difficult challenge for Gorgrax, as he was strong, much stronger than his sizable girth would have one think. One look at his considerable layers of fat, and the other chiefs would believe themselves to have an easy fight ahead of them. Their opinions were quickly proven wrong, once his ax separated their heads from their shoulders.

Three tribes so far had been absorbed into the Flesh Rend orcs, but he needed more, and so he continued. He would unite the tribes under his banner, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

Travelling through the tall grass, Gorgrax and his hunters were on the lookout for other orcs. With the swelling of their numbers, they needed to travel to find more food, and soon, he would give them all the food they could want, but not yet, not just yet. All he needed was enough warriors, and he would have enough strength to begin cutting a swath to the Spine.

Thronebreaker

 

[Fain]

Smoke curled from the holes in the roofs of the wood longhouses of the Orcish settlement, rising high up past the tops of the pines. Inside the Feast Hall, Khurash reclined upon a bearskin rug by the hearth that ran the length of the hall. The fire warmed him as he ate of the roast boar that was spitted across the fire and turned slowly, dripping juices.

Khurash carved two more strips of meat, then tossed one to a warg that lay by the hearth.

Other orcs milled about, telling stories and enjoying the company of the tribe. The chieftain of this tribe had allowed Khurash to stay for a moon now, saying that good warriors and hunters were always welcome at his hearth.

After earning his freedom in the arena, Khurash had returned to his ancestral homeland in the Spine. His tribe was gone, wiped out and sold into slavery, but he could start again he knew. He eyed a handsome looking she-orc. Maybe he could start again here. Life was good. Prey was plentiful. What more could he ask of the gods?

 

[Infernal]

The door was opened, and in walked several fat, purple skinned orcs. Each of them had the air of violence among them, and the one leading them, looked to be the fattest one of the group.

"All of you" He said, gesturing with a sausage like finger in a sweeping motion "You all belong to the Flesh Rend tribe now."

There was murmuring amongst them, and some looked to Khurash, while others started to grip their weapons. Gorgrax's men were heavily armed as well, wearing metal plating over vulnerable areas, wielding cruel looking weapons that promised a painful end if used.

 

[Fain]

Khurash got up from where he lay, scowling with his big, heavy brows. Who were these strange orcs, who looked like fat plums covered in metal? His fingers curled tight around the grip of his long knife. The warg near his feet let out a low, menacing growl.

"Warriors," cried Chief Jogvir, picking up an axe, "seize them!"

But Khurash knew it might already be too late. If they had gone inside the Feast Hall without being stopped, then they must have killed the warriors outside. Maybe they had taken over the other longhouses in the village too.

The thought made his blood boil. This tribe had been good to him. He would have the scalps of these fat plums.

A dozen warriors in the hall picked up knives or axes and rushed at the Flesh Rend orcs.

 

[Infernal]

CRACK!!

The longhouse was silent after the sound broke through the bustle of the warriors attempting to seize the intruders. A voice spoke to break the silence, and the decrepit figure that hid between the mass of the others shuffled into view.

"You forget yourself, Chief Jogvir." The shaman spoke, hunched and draped in black skins of strange animals that could not be easily identified. "There are rules, laws that must be abided. Chief Gorgrax comes to your hall, and instead of honoring his challenge, you would try and attack us?" A dark, bony finger pointed to him, as if it could pierce his heart.

"I name you a coward!"

Again the room fell into silence, and Gorgrax was smiling that large, toothy grin of such a tasty moment.

 

[Fain]

The Chief glared darkly at the shaman.

“This Gorgax made no challenge to the champion’s rite. He declared tribe war.”

He looked the strange warriors up and down. “You are on the wrong side of the Bystra. But if a champion’s combat is what this Gorgax seeks, then I will fight.”

At this, the tribe shook their weapons and shouted in approval. Khurash, however, remained silent, looking between the big fat plum Gorgax and the Chief. The Chief was no great warrior, but it was too late. He had already answered the call.

Jogvir hefted his axe and walked forward until he stood before Gorgax. The warriors of the tribe made a circle around them.

“I will send your purple people running back to the Steppes, so you can eat and cook with the shit of your cows.”

 

[Infernal]

"Heh, it's been a long time since I've had cow." Holding his own ax in both hands, his grin never left, and the hunters who came with him escorted the shaman to a safe distance.

They circled each other, wary of any sign of weakness, knowing full well what would happen should the other gain an advantage. Jogvir held a deep determination on his face, intent on repelling these invaders from his land. Just by gazing upon Gorgrax, he could see the rolls of fat that made their home on his frame, and all he could feel was disgust.

"I wonder, if I cut you, will you bleed grease, piggy!"

"You talk too much, I think I'll rip out your throat!"

Gorgrax lunged first, roaring in a grand battle cry as his ax buried itself into the floor, with Jogvir dodging out of the way without much effort. It seemed that he was going to get an easy strike in, raising his weapon high as he charged forward. The native orcs believed it to be an easy victory, but Khurash would see that the chief was making a fatal error in his attack approach.

Suddenly, Gorgrax had abandoned his weapon, and tackled Jogvir, using his shoulder to push the wind out of his belly. He dropped his ax, and was slammed onto the hard wooden floor, his vision filled with stars before Gorgrax began raining blows down upon him.

"Let's see what you bleed!" He yelled, laughing in a deranged blood lust as he eventually beat Jogvir unconscious, but refused to relent. There was a sickening snap, a crunch of bone, and all that was left of his skull was a red, pulpy mess on the floor. Roaring in triumph, Gorgrax rose to his feet, fists dripping with blood and brain matter.

"Now! Which tribe do you belong to?"

 

[Fain]

There came a great lamentation from the tribe as they watched their chieftain beaten into a bloody pulp. Warriors stared, stunned.

After a moment filled only by the sound of weeping, one of the tribe stepped forward. He was a thin, wiry orc who Khurash had seen before, he thought his name was Rahrak. A thinker, who had been to Alliria, and always brought complicated plans to the chief to turn them into a bunch of croppers and loggers.

"I belong to the Flesh Rend tribe," Rahrak said clearly.

Khurash lowered his head. Rahrak swayed with the wind, like a thin pine that survives storms that break greater trees than it, because it bends where they did not.

Shameful.

Shaking his head Khurash started to walk for the entrance of the hall to leave, his three wargs rising and following behind him.

 

[Infernal]

"Where do you think you're going?" Gorgrax stated, wrenching his weapon from the floor. "You think you can just walk away from me?"

The hunters blocked the entrance, weapons at the ready.

"I've already killed one fool. Do not think I won't end your life as well." He chuckled, relishing the idea of killing someone else.

 

[Fain]

Khurash looked up and bared his chin. The fat plum was tall, but Khurash’s shoulders were just as broad and his shirtless body rippled with muscle.

“I am not of this tribe. Jogvir was not my Chief. The rites do not bind me. Let me pass.”

 

[Infernal]

He laughed, a deep, guttural thing that spoke little of actual mirth. "We are the future of all orc kind. I have feasted upon the endless flesh and I have seen what we must do."

The others were baring their fangs, the shaman silent, but you could almost feel the toothy smile hidden beneath his hood.

"To claim my birthright, my destiny, I need every orc under my command. Those who do refuse me." He brought down the bottom of his ax, the end banging against the wooden floor, causing many inside to flinch. "Then they can become my next meal!"

 

[Fain]

Khurash scowled.

“You would shit upon the rites of ancestors? I am a guest in this hall, you must let me pass.”

 

[Infernal]

Snarling, he was about to say something, when his attention was caught by the Shamans gaze. With a low growl, he comceded. Only by following the ancestral rites was he able to get this far without spending precious time warring with them. Once they were firmly in his grasp, he would do away with their useless old traditions, just as the shamans had done.

Until then...

"Fine. Get out of my sight, but know this!" He said, pointing his ax at him. "If I ever see your face again, I'll eat it for supper."

Moving aside for Khurash to exit, the other orcs stared at him with murderous intent, memorizing his face. There was no doubt they'd be looking for him, once their mission here was done.

 

[Fain]

Khurash grunted, shoving aside the ax in his face with his knife and storming past the warlord. One of the guards in his path would not move, so Khurash shouldered him aside and left the hall, followed by the wargs.

Certain in his mind that if ever they met again only one would leave alive.