Orc Lord

I order the others to stay back until I give them the signal to rush in. I run forth alone to confront whatever is in that village.

According to , the last, mysterious creature is…

Name: Balig Dremsurn

Race: Dwarf

Blessings:

Yogg’s Hands (Dwarf)

Strong Drinker (Dwarf)

Curses:

None

Status:

Body: Bound

Heart: Regretful

Mind: Sleep-Deprived

Soul: Stable

Will: 111%

A Dwarf? In the Black Mountain forest? Don't they live inside the mountains a long way away from here?

Well, whatever. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, right? I was just looking for a new skilled person.

By now, the Fomor village is in sight. Visually, it’s much the same as the last place. Many cone-shaped huts are lined up in concentric circles, with a fire pit in the center. I can't see the Dwarf from where I am. I can only see the Fomors that are wandering around outside. Taking a deep breath, I shout out my greetings in the Fomor language.

“Hello neighbors! I am Vyra, the Orc Lord! I have come to exterminate you, but those who surrender as slaves will be spared. Choose now! Your lives or your honor!”

A Fomor woman heard my words and became enraged. Her look reminds me of the one from yesterday. I was expecting a fight from the look of fire in her eyes. She grabbed a bone axe and trotted up to me. I figured I would end her in front of the others and spur them to either side of the ultimatum I offered.

However, before entering striking distance, the woman stopped. She glared down at me from her four foot height advantage, breathing heavily. Holding the weapon protectively in front of herself, she started to cuss me out.

“You!” her eyes blazed. “Why did you appear?! Your people were the first to attack, and they don't stop no matter how much time passes! But we can’t fight back without inviting a calamity?! What right do you have to come here after stealing my mate from me? Our children will never be born because of you! Le--” she gulped, but put on a tough face, “leave here, you swine!”

Well, I mean, yeah. I'm the bad guy here. I knew it all already, so her speech doesn't change anything.

“I said, slavery or death. If you do not choose, I will assume you want to die. Those who wish to be slaves, on your knees!”

The woman in front of me, her knees shook, and she fell to the ground. Several others also weren't willing to risk their lives. As expected, villagers and soldiers are different.

Using

, I pinpointed the locations of all the Fomors who weren't kneeling. Plenty of them were on the move, gathering weapons and running in my direction. They wouldn't be fast enough. With the help of , was fired up from the ground simultaneously at each of the positions marked by . Most of them died, but a few were saved by their tough hide.

I let out a long whistle to summon my allies.

“Stay down and you won't be harmed,” I called out to the new slaves. “Crawl towards me now.”

When

says all the kneeling Fomors are gathered, I activate my . Two of the seventeen Fomors gathered had Will stats higher than mine. I used to make a collar for their necks and cuffs for their wrists and ankles, all linked together with chains. I'll let them have the opportunity to prove themselves, but I can't trust them one bit right now.

All the while while that was happening, the others have been scouring the village for surviving enemies, ganging up and killing them. Those who couldn’t find anyone are busy loading the wagons with corpses.

places the captive Dwarf in a hut beside the decorated leader’s hut. Nobody’s gone there yet, so I make my way over.

A leather curtain hangs in front of the entrance. Pushing it aside reveals a dark interior. My lowlight vision is fairly good, but I cast a spell anyway.

So that’s a Dwarf? It’s a guy. He’s tied with his arms bound to his sides and his wrists and ankles held together. There’s a leather strip tied around his face, acting as a gag.

All this leather… I'm pretty sure it’s Orc hide. Good thing I’m rarely squeamish.

Anyway, the Dwarf guy threw me off a little because he’s different from the image I had in my head. He’s about five feet tall with short brown hair, pale skin, and black eyes. His ears are round, like a human’s. His frame is actually very lithe, and not stocky at all, and he doesn't have any facial hair. I would think he was a human if it weren't for his hands. Where the pinky should be was a second thumb, so each hand was perfectly symmetrical. How weird.

I’d love to let him know what’s going on, but I don't speak Dwarvish. Oh, wait.

“Can you understand the Human Language?”

The Dwarf opened his eyes wide and nodded yes. His mouth is gagged, so let’s start there.

“I’m going to remove the gag. Please keep still.”

I approached the Dwarf and crouched down, bringing my hands behind his head to undo the knot. The leather strip fell loose, and he was able to use his mouth again.

“Who are you?” was the first thing he asked.

His grammar is good, but his accent could use some work. Also, the pitch of his voice is normal. I was half expecting it to be high-pitched since he looks like a human teenager. Analysis says he’s twenty-three years old. So, would he be considered an adult by Dwarf standards?

“My name is Vyra. I'm your savior,” I grinned. We continued to chat while I undid the rest of his bindings.

“The guys outside should be just about finished. I wonder how a Dwarf ended up captured by Fomors?”

“It’s a long story. What are you? Why are you attacking a Fomor village?”

“It’s a long story,” I mimicked, causing the Dwarf to frown. “But if you need a place to stay, you can come with us. The city is still under construction, but I can guarantee food and safety. How about it?”

The Dwarf hesitated but nodded, so I guided him out of the hut. Things outside seem to have been resolved. There’s enough time left to hit one more village today, since things here finished quickly. The others finish their current tasks, and I hand out the new ones. Just in case, the commands are given in New Orcish.

All the basic troops will go home with the wagons and the brainwashed slaves. The chained slaves, high-level troops, and the Dwarf will come with me to the next village. When the basic troops get back to the village, they’re to tell the troops that went to the first Fomor Village to come meet my group at the third village for cleanup duty. The troops coming from here will drop off the food and bring the empty wagons back to clear out this village of useful things.

The basic troops will always keep some slaves with them just in case, and I'll keep the troublesome and the strong people in my group. I'll work out some better arrangements later.

***

After working so hard to enter the most prestigious school in the Dwarven Empire, this was where he ended up. Balig looked down at his hands and feet, bound by leather strips. He was an unarmed craftsman in a village of Monsters more than twice his size. Surviving the path of exile only to die here… he couldn't even laugh about it.

But, as far as he could remember, Fomors don't eat meat. So why on earth had they captured him? If he was patient, perhaps there would be a chance to escape deep in the night.

The Fomor who tied him up here had a chip in one of its horns. It hadn't returned in a few days, so maybe he really had a chance?

However, the others in the village were so tense that he was sure he would be noticed if he rushed things.

Balig had patiently bided his time. He had freed himself of his bindings and was eating food from some crude clay pots that were tucked away at the back of the hut. When the food was nearly gone, he had tried to make his escape, but he was caught. The angry Fomor lady tied him back up, more tightly than the last time, and tossed him back into the hut.

He couldn't wait another week now that the food was gone.

I can't believe I'm actually going to die here.

And then, he understood why the Monsters had seemed so on edge. A woman’s loud voice rang out across the entire village. There was some arguing. And then, the sounds of dozens of Fomors crying out in agony rang simultaneously. Heavy footsteps stampeded in from outside of the village. They were being massacred by some foreign enemy.

Balig didn't know what to do, so he just kept still, hoping he wouldn't be found and killed.

But a Monster entered his hut: one with the light attribute, apparently. Balig continued to keep still, watching the Monster’s movements. She investigated him curiously, and he wondered briefly about what kind of Monster she was. There was a bit of Orc in the nose, ears, and teeth, but the rest was different. More importantly, if she was taking the time to be curious about him, maybe he had a chance to survive this.

“Can you understand the Human Language?” she asked clearly.

To his shock, the Monster could speak a language he understood.

The Monster willingly freed him, but she dodged most of his questions. To be fair, he was doing the same.

Upon going outside, Balig noticed all the Orcs stomping about and figured this Monster must be some kind of Orc evolution he hadn't heard about.

Well, once you get this deep into the Black Mountain Forest, there’s bound to be some strange things.

The Orc lady turned out to be in charge of the group that had attacked the village. She started giving out orders in a different language and the Orcs started running around completing them. Balig’s attention held for some time on the wagons they were pulling behind them. They seemed to be made out of solid stone made from earth magic. The design was incredibly simple, but there wasn't anything particularly bad about it. Whoever made them was at least talented enough to keep the proportions the same.

“Sorry, I can't take you to the city just yet.” Balig’s attention went to the Orc lady’s words. “We have one more village to attack before returning.”

Can they handle it with even fewer people? She offered me a place to rest at. It would be a shame if they died after this.

But he knew that if he tried to wander alone in this place again, at best it would be a repeat of last time.

“That’s fine. But why are you attacking Fomor villages?”

The Orc lady had already begun to march, and Balig trotted after her.

“You can speak to me in your mother tongue,” she said instead of answering.

Balig furrowed his brow and switched to speaking Dwarvish. “Okay. Why are you attacking Fomor villages?”

“Keep going.”

“What?” Balig’s blood started to heat up. “You can't understand Dwarvish, can you?” Seeing the Orc lady vaguely nodding at his words instead of answering, he switched back to the Human tongue.

“Why should I speak in Dwarvish if you can't understand it? You're just playing around.”

She clicked her tongue and glared at him. “Why I'm attacking Fomor villages, right? That’s because we’re at war. The main fighting just ended, their best fighters are dead, and now is the best time to wipe them out completely.”

“You want to eradicate them?” The brutal concept made the young Dwarf feel uncomfortable.

“In Dwarvish,” she corrected.

Balig rolled his eyes and said flatly, “You want to eradicate them?”

“Yes. They’re ticking time bombs. Any one of them could be a Small Baphomet next summer.”

“Ticking time bomb?” Balig muttered to himself.

“If you don't understand, don't worry about it. Even Orcs might have trouble with that one.”

“And you're supposed to be something different from an Orc?”

“I…” her floppy triangular ears flicked, “I wonder about that. Maybe it doesn't matter with Monsters.”

After a pause, “My name is Balig,” he offered. “What’s yours?”

The Orc lady smiled wryly. “I told you mine from the beginning. You weren't listening. It’s Vyra.”

At that point, Balig noticed that they’d been talking entirely in Dwarvish, and he couldn't pinpoint when the change had happened.