Orctober 2020: Day 1 - Autumn
#1 of Orctober 2020
First in a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist, you can check it here
On this first story, we will meet Yatur, an orc Merellien gracefully let me use for this tale( you can look at him and other awesome orcs here). I hope you like it.
Yatur dashed forward on his worg, the large lupine creature moving gracefully through the tall trees and the treacherous soil of the forest. The cold morning wind buffeted the orc's light green's skin while his coat flapped behind him. Sharp dark brown eyes scanned the area like a hawk, searching for anything unusual in the coat of yellow, orange and brown nature wore this time of the year. Without missing a beat, the worg jumped onto a tree stump, his sharp claws digging into the old bark as he ran through it length. The next jump made Yatur laugh as he body broke free from gravity from a few seconds. A grunt of exertion came from the worg as they landed on a rocky hill, and with a few more steps, the pair had a bird's eye view of the north eastern part of the forest.
"Good work Ragah. I'm sure you just set a new record." Yatur said with a deep voice, his hand caressing his precious mount's neck with tender affection. Ragah only panted in reply while their ears stood proud in alert.
A carefree smile appeared on the orc's face, the adrenaline from the run had left him excited and itching for another challenge, another tale to tell between mugs of beer. His free hand made its way into the satchel that hung from Ragah's saddle and, after a quick search, drew out a stone ring, roughly the size of Yatur's eyes. Thick green fingers caressed the smooth stone while Yatur cast his gaze over the vast scenery.
A distant blur caught the orc's eye, the distance almost too far for even his eyes to make out, but when he focused he saw spots of purple and blue move in hurried movements. Yatur lifted the ring to his left eye, the stone framing the world as he gazed through it. A numbing tingling spread through his fingers as he spoke a few harsh words in an old language. The image through the right changed the next moment, enlarging everything until Yatur could clearly see the hill two hundred meters from him. A few moments were enough for the orc to find the source of the blur and a frown made its way to his face. A bright blue carriage sped through the trees, pulled by a pair of stout horses. The coach relentless harried the horses, his whip flying through the air with desperation and led his carriage straight towards Proudtusk territory. Behind them, closing in on tall and strong horses, were a trio of humans, all lightly armed. The one closest to Yatur shot arrow after arrow towards the carriage, missing the coach for only a hair breadth.
Yatur cursed under his breath as he returned the ring to his satchel and grabbed the whistle that hung from his neck. The orc scout took a deep breath, bringing the whistle to his lips. The metal reflected the morning light moments before a high pitched cry erupted from the device, a signal to every other scout in the area. His first task done, Yatur took a tight hold of the reins and with a shout, Ragah shot forward like an arrow. The pair ran between the trees like the wind, years of patrolling guiding through the forest with supernatural ease.
Yatur blew his whistle once more when Ragah began to growl, shouts and screams reaching the orc's ears moments later. With reinforcements secured, the orc trusted Ragah to guide them towards the source of the excitement. Soon enough, a blur of purple appeared on the edges of his vision, accompanied by the cacophony of noise from the attackers. Yatur drew out his sword, the long piece of metal glinting with deadly intent by his side. The orc scout leaned over his mount as the worg picked up speed, their eyes set on one of the riders. Yatur's blood burned in his veins, the encroaching approach of battle bringing a cocky smile to his face. His senses sharpened, the form of the riders becoming clearer, more defined. His eyes took in the spear on his target's arms, the faded purple of their gamberson and the glint of metal from their round helmet. The strong earthy scent of his mount filled his nose, calming down the hurried pounding of his heart.
The shout of alarm from the riders came too late to save their friend, Ragah's fangs had pierced their feeble protections like a hot knife cutting through butter. The worg tackled both rider and horse to the ground, a loud whiny ringing through the air and silencing anything else. The orc's eyes met the riders'. Cold determination met raw fear. With a command from Yatur, Ragha sprang into action, swerving between the trees like a gray blur. The archer was the first to come to his senses, urging his horse forwards while his hand prepared his next shot. The other rider was quick on the uptake and turned around with his spear held high. Scout and invader closed in on each other with grim determination, their bodies tense with power. An arrow grazed Yatur's ear but the orc kept his attention on the spear coming at him, the metallic tip now pointed towards his precious mount. The orc let out a battlecry as only a couple of meters separated them. Ragah jumped to the side at the last possible moment, the spear hitting only empty air while the scout's blade sank into flesh. Blood burst from the rider's shoulder as he fell from his horse.
The orc scout couldn't enjoy his victory for long, for an arrow would sink deep into his sword arm. His worg let out a threatening growl as they smelled their orc's blood, their bloodied fangs bared against the remaining rider. Yatur bit his lips and held onto his saddle with all his might, enduring the spikes of pain that came from his wound with every move. More arrows flew by him, growing ever so close to his flesh with each try. He saw an arrogant smirk appear on the archer's face as he loaded another arrow, the tip pointed lower than usual. A shout was raising on Yatur's throat when a black blur jumped from the side and brought down the last rider, a sickening crunch reaching his ears moments later. Proud tusks framed a satisfied smirk, the forest green skin and red hair betraying the identity of the new arrival. The new orc's worg pointed their bloodied muzzle towards the sky and howled, the sound echoed by six more worgs that burst from the woods and forced the carriage to a stop. Ragah came to a stop in front of the charcoal black worg, their tongue lolling out of their muzzle
The commanding gaze of the orc scout leader fell upon Yatur, equal parts approving and chiding. She exchanged a couple of signals with the group ahead of them before she returned her gaze towards the wounded orc.
"You're losing your touch Yatur, maybe you're getting too old for this." She said with an amused tone but a touch of concern was clear in her eyes.
"Maybe next time, I'll wait for them to cross the border before I ambush them." Yatur replied without missing a beat, pride clinging to his tone.
"If you do, that arrow will feel like a lover's caress compared to what I'll do to you." Their worgs huffed at that, seeming to laugh at the banter between their riders. "Go get that looked at by Yzdar, and I better not catch you flirting with them."
"Aye, aye, ma'am."
Thank you for reading this far, remember to leave your thoughts in the comments.