Orcblood Legacy: Skirmishes: Orcs Bernard Bertram (good books to read TXT) 📖

the orc’s muscled body. Breathing heavily, Fangdarr sized up his foe and his eyes grew large in shock.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but the wound that he had landed on Bon’zo’s chest had completely healed. Are their weapons like mine? He couldn’t know for sure, but his own wounds were starting to take their toll. As Fangdarr was about to charge forward in rage once more, he gasped in horror as Gam’ja, too, started to rise. The creature’s shattered skull began mending itself of its own accord, resolving the orc’s previous contemplation.

How am I to defeat such opponents? Fangdarr didn’t have time to ponder further as Gam’ja instantly dashed forward—even before his wound had fully mended—followed closely by Bon’zo. The orc waited for his attackers this time, remembering the tactics his dwarven mentor had taught him. It was difficult to suppress his rage, but Fangdarr trusted in Tormag’s instruction. Driktarr cocked back behind his shoulder, lying in wait.

Gam’ja closed first, both daggers leading the way in hopes to impale the large orc. Fangdarr held his stance, his plan in mind. The troll exclaimed in victory as both daggers pierced through the orc’s abdomen all the way to the hilt. But such was Fangdarr’s intention. He had chosen to disregard the short-sighted leading troll, expecting the all-or-nothing blow. Fangdarr’s target was not Gam’ja, however, but the trailing Bon’zo.

Bon’zo smiled upon seeing Gam’ja’s weapons sink into the orc’s body. In the distraction, the troll failed to notice Driktarr sailing downward into its shoulder, cleaving it deeply. With the weight of the blow, the troll’s body fell back into the small fire of Fangdarr’s camp and instantly immolated in a raging inferno. Bon’zo’s rolled on the ground and let out a shriek of agony that pierced the forest. But it was no use. Within a few short moments, the troll’s corpse halted its thrashing yet continued to burn.

Fangdarr was caught by surprise at seeing the troll conflagrate so intensely. As his wound’s began to heal from Driktarr’s enchantment, the orc realized his opponent’s weakness. Gam’ja’s attention had turned upon hearing Bon’zo’s screams. Gazing back to Fangdarr, whose wounds were now stitching themselves closed—even pushing the stone daggers out from the orc’s abdomen from the magical restoration—Gam’ja went wide-eyed in terror. This time, it was Fangdarr whose face was etched with the sinister grin.

“Aw no, mon. Please, we was just playin’,” Gam’ja begged. As the troll backpedaled away from Fangdarr, it tripped over the burning corpse. Luckily, the flammable oil that had seeped from Gam’ja’s wounds was only on the troll’s head, else it would have suffered the same fate of Bon’zo. The creature continued begging and pleading as it crawled away backwards.

Fangdarr stomped forward, a ceaseless harbinger of death in pursuit of its final victim. His wounds were freshly healed, leaving white scars to contrast brightly against his blackened skin. He reached the troll, who had backed into the base of a tree and was now whimpering pathetically.

Staring at the pitiful creature in disgust, the orc’s hand clasped tightly around the troll’s throat, stifling Gam’ja’s whines. Fangdarr carried the troll back toward the fire with ease, despite his captive’s desperate wriggling. Holding the troll in front of his face, Fangdarr whispered to Gam’ja, barely audible over the roaring flames that still licked away at Bon’zo’s charred carcass. “Play time.”

The troll’s bulging eyes went impossibly wide in terror as Fangdarr slammed its face into the fire pit. The orc held Gam’ja down in the insatiable blaze that had come to life, though eased his grip to hear the agonizing screams as his victim was forced to endure its flesh melting.

.

SLEEP

It had been days since the trolls had attacked Fangdarr in his camp and sleep had not come easy since. His senses were on edge, even while drifting to the brink of slumber. He wandered aimlessly through the forest as if his feet were buried deep in muck.

The lack of sleep weakened his resolve. With each passing day, it was becoming harder to stifle his trapped emotions regarding Vrutnag’s passing. But still Fangdarr forced them deeper, hiding them beneath the growing frustration of his journey alone. He missed his brother and the old dwarf who had become his mentor. He missed the things he had taken for granted. Sleep. Shelter. Warmth. Yet, the orc’s stubborn pride demanded he press on and never look back.

Fangdarr walked through the Lithe in a daze as his body begged for sleep, but his mind spewed rejection with every step. Finally, on the fifth day since the attack, the orc collapsed onto the rough ground.

Waking abruptly, his eyes groggily scanned his surroundings. Immediately he was in a defensive stance, expecting some enemy to be on his peripheral. But after flicking his eyes in every direction for a long while none came. Fangdarr relaxed and began to collect his thoughts. Last he remembered, he was lumbering through the woods in the early afternoon. Now, the sun had just started its ascent for the following day, peeking barely above what little of the horizon he could see through the lattice of trees. He cursed himself as he realized sleep had taken him nearly a full day. Never before had he slept so long.

With luck, he had not been harmed during his unconsciousness and Driktarr remained in place across his back. The orc held no faith in the gods but wondered if he had been watched over or simply spared misfortune by chance. In either case, Fangdarr breathed a sigh of total relief as his arms stretched high in the air, no longer encumbered by fatigue.

Looking south toward the mountains, Fangdarr had settled on the decision to find a cave. If he could manage to find one well-hidden, or at least defensible enough to allow him to repel intruders, he would be safe enough. After all, the cave his family lived in for his entire life had never once been discovered. Though, perhaps being between the Zharnik clan and nearby human villages to the