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Tales from the Nexus: Restraint

Deep down we are all the same.

No matter what your age, upbringing, race, skin colour or even sexual orientation, we are all the same. Throughout the history of mankind, this one single truth has persisted though it has taken many other forms throughout time. Some say we are merely animals at heart. Other claim that deep down we are all selfish and evil. Other still say that when you strip away all the bullshit, the lies and the precedents of society, we are just all colossal assholes out for one thing and one thing only.

Ourselves.

Every struggle in life is about self-preservation. Whether it be through a communal sense of self-preservation or a selfish one, we are nonetheless driven to make sure that we survive.

Despite centuries of the same message being touted over and over again, there is no denying that mankind still yet has to learn this lesson. After all, why would the same concept sugar coated in different styles need to be repeated throughout time if not because humanity had yet to take it to heart. We preach of tolerance, equality and unification but there is a difference between what we practice and what we preach.

In the year 2052, Earth had reached a stage when many cultural boundaries had been broken down. Racism had become a word spoken of in hushed tones and would send chills down people's spines at the memory of examples of horrors past. Discrimination was a crime that could ruin a man's life just as easily as being convicted for murder. Homosexuality could no longer be used to insult someone or as a slur in any form lest you be shunned from society.

And yet, despite this, when the Orkans came to our world, lessons that took centuries to learn were instantly forgotten.

The 'Orcs' are they were colloquially known just suddenly appeared out of nowhere one day in great droves. Hundreds of thousands of them just appearing in various locations overnight. They seemed just as stunned as the humans who found them in places all over the world. Some appeared in remote locations like in the middle of forests or out in the desert. Others appeared in major metropolitan areas, sometimes even appearing within office buildings.

Some acted violently. Entire cities were razed within days as the Orcs far outnumbered the local police forces. Superior technology turned the tide of the initial wave and with the element of surprise gone, governments banded together to get rid of the 'green menace'. Orcs were pushed back and territory regained but the even the most high-tech drones or hardened veterans were not prepared for the one thing that the Orcs had that mankind did not: magic.

Even the most experienced soldier would piss his pants at the sight of an enormous fireball hurtling towards them at high speeds or watching his comrades get struck down by bolts of lightning one by one. Still, humanity is adaptive if anything and they ultimately far outnumbered the Orcs whose numbers dwindled with every skirmish. Even as the Orcs began adapting themselves; creating a hodgepodge of vehicles and armaments from what they could glean of the humans, they were losing the war which had quickly turned to one of attrition than all out conquest.

Over the course of three years, the war raged on. Entire Orc colonies were wiped out by the Anti-Orkan-Alliance of AOA. At the same time, some colonies became so dug in that even the AOA's technology and forces could not face off uproot them. Lives were lost, prisoners taken, billions upon billions of dollars poured into a war effort that seemed to see no end.

Eventually, as is to happen with all wars, people grew tired of the fighting. One day, an Orc shaman approached an AOA facility, naked, unarmed and with arms raised in surrender. He was arrested and then interrogated. Somehow, he knew how to speak the local dialect - French - and confessed to having spoken to his chieftains. They wanted peace.

After weeks of negotiations, the European Orkan Clans (EOCs) came to a truce with European leaders. To this day, people still argue that the EOCs got the short end of the stick but when asked about it, they nonetheless agreed that it was better than being slaughtered outright. The American Orkan Nation was formed shortly afterwards and they made peace with the United States government following their official formation. The Orcs of Australia and South East Asia were given various islands in the Pacific to live out their days away from human civilisation. Entire African countries were taken over by the Orcs while the Orcs of South America retreated into the jungles with the warning that if any human were caught within their territory, they would brutally killed.

And that seemed to be the end of the 'Green Menace'.

Some people just could not let go of the war. The AOA - while officially disbanded - became an independent mercenary group. Those who joined or remained were those that felt slighted that the Orcs invaded their home and claimed land or had lost friends and family to the Orcs. They still saw Orcs as violent, primitive beasts that needed to be put down and not as people. So they kept fighting.

Some say that they were secretly funded by the US Government as a force to keep track on the various Orc nations. Others say that it was actually the megacorporation known as the 'Nexus Conglomerate' that funded the AOA.

Whatever the case, it was in the AOA that I learned the lesson that all humanity should remember.

Deep down, we are all the same.

My name was Brandon Gantry and this is my story.

******

Back then, I was just a corporal in the AOA. My expertise was in sabotage and demolition. The AOA never officially existed, after all, so they needed people who were good at blowing things up or destroying key structures were considered in high regard. At that age, I already had several missions under my belt, all of them successful. Our backers, whoever they were, had the best of weapons provided to us including some weaponry that we never heard of either given or stolen from this company, NexArm. Whoever they were also smoothed over any incidents that happened should AOA troops get caught.

In fact, when I joined the AOA there was actually a tiny but powerful explosive that was placed inside my upper left molar. If command decided that we were a lost cause, they would detonate the explosive. It was strong enough to send a man's limbs flying for a good fifty yards. We weren't given uniforms either and all our weapons and equipment tended to be a garnered from various sources to rule out the possibility that we were organised. If we were ever caught, no one would ever be able to pin our efforts a supposedly long dead organisation build during a time of turmoil and war. They'd just think we were a bunch of hot-headed racist bastards that decided to take revenge on the Orkans for whatever reason.

We were also constantly reassigned teammates so that it was impossible to build any sort of connection between each other. Out there, it was just our hate for the Orcs. Nothing else. If a man fell, you do _not_go back to get him. You shoot him to ease his suffering and that's the only mercy you give him.

On that fateful mission, I was teamed up with four others. As you know, I was the demolitions expert. Sabotage missions always had one.

Gabriel Borelli was an Italian religious nut who considered Orcs an abomination to God. He was the team leader and had small tattoos of Orc skulls all around his right arm. It was a little hard to see them because of how hairy he was but they were there, coloured a greenish colour to make sure everyone knew they came from the 'Greenskins'. At last count, there eighty of them. He said kept count on how many Orcs he kills and got a new skull added to the list just for them. When he went to Heaven, he said, he'd flash his arm to St. Peter and then the Pearly Gates would swing wide open for him. Then he'd be throwing a fucking party.

Hey, he was super religious but he still swore a lot.

Then there was Oleg. No one knew his last name and that's how the AOA preferred it. He was Russian. Big, tall, blonde hair and brown eyes. He rarely spoke a lot but I would eventually learn that his family died during the first invasion of the Orcs when his village was razed by them. He swore vengeance. It was said that every time he spoke, an Orc would die.

Norman McManus had Scottish heritage but was as red-blooded American as you can get. He was a right wing extremist and that's what brought him to the AOA. Giving land up to the Orcs was anti-American, he said. America did not surrender or make peace. The Orcs invaded and their only choice was either to be killed or kicked out of American soil. He absolutely _hated_the idea that there were mixed communities of Orcs and humans. The fact that there were never any female Orcs seen in public also was a hot topic for him. He called Orcs faggots and that was just another nail on their coffin. No one ever called him on his homophobia though.

Lastly, we had Wade Roman. To this day, I don't know where he came from but he's definitely of Latino descent. He loved to fight. Didn't matter who he was fighting or what he was fighting for, as long as he got to fight, he was happy. He was one of the veterans of the war and when the AOA 'disbanded', he couldn't live in a world of peace. So he stuck with the AOA. While not a founding member, he was still spoken of in hushed whispers and treated with the utmost respect. He had more kills than Gabriel, enough said.

Our mission was to go into Orkan territory in North America to destroy the water purification centre of a large Orc-only city. Say what you will about the AOA, they only targeted Orcs. Human sympathisers were spared their wrath. For now at least.

I remember feeling excited. I love to see things blow up and knowing that I would get to put my talents to some good only helped excite me all the more. See, this fascination with destruction was something that I held from a young age. My parents didn't take too kindly to it and thought I was borderline psychopath. By the time I was old enough to leave him, the war was over and I was on my way to being a construction worker with my expertise being in demolitions. But then a recruiter from the AOA approached me and told me that my prowess could be used for the greater good.

Back then, I really had no opinion of the Orcs but the recruiter brought me to a camp where they convinced me that the Orcs were a plague on the land; scavengers, uncouth, primitive and unsophisticated brutes that took what they want and were just gathering their strength for their next assault. And there would be a next assault. That's what the AOA kept telling us and themselves. One day, the Orcs would attack and we would be caught off guard just like when they first arrived.

I thought I was doing the right thing by joining and if I got to blow things up while I did so, so much the better.

Our trip to the target site was quite long because we never took the same kind of transport throughout the entire trip. At first, we carried the bulk of the way via commercial airplane. Then we took a truck to the same state that the Orcs were in. After that, we actually canoed down a river, making it look like we were just a bunch of adventure seekers or campers to the casual observer. Then we went on foot to our location with all our equipment at the ready.

The purification centre was located on the outskirts of the city. It showed what we considered then as typical Orkan design. The walls were covered in arcane runes, a crude palisades had been erected and where wood couldn't cover a part of the wall, there was metal roughly planted in place. I remember being excited. This was wood. It would go up really easily.

So we began our work. Gabriel, Oleg and I would set our explosives around the facility while Norman and Wade kept a lookout. It seemed like a standard mission, really.

But I was oh so very wrong.

The popular opinion is the Orcs are dumb and use their brute strength to their advantage. But the fact is, they're just as smart as any human. Some have intellects even greater than mankind's greatest minds. Sure they may be over eight feet tall and greater than 300 mounds of pure muscle but that's just how they're built and how they appear. When you strip that all down, you'll find that they have a heart, they have lungs, a stomach and a brain.

Deep down, we're all the same.

I had just set the third of the explosives when Norman began shouting in our earpieces. He was abruptly cut off and we heard gunfire in the distance. Gabriel told me to hurry up and forget about our lookouts. I obeyed just as I heard Wade shouting at someone to give him all he's got. Oleg tore the earpiece from my ear to and told me that it would only distract me.

'Oleg spoke,' I thought. 'Oh shit. Orcs are gonna die.'

We didn't get much farther before a large band of Orcs suddenly came down upon us. Gabriel knew that the mission was a bust and immediately tried to call command to blow our heads off. But before he could finish, one of the Orcs was suddenly upon him and shoving a big, meaty hand into his mouth. There was a loud tearing noise as the Orc pulled the bloody fake tooth from Gabriel's mouth and tossed it high into the air. I gawked and that was my mistake. Another Orc shoved a hand down my throat and did the same. I remember thinking that the Orc's skin was surprisingly salty.

There was pain as the tooth was taken from me.

And I remember thinking 'this is it. We're screwed'.

******

The city was called Algorok. In Orkan it means 'Fortress in the Trees'. But it wasn't some military compound. Never was. It was a full blown city built in the middle of the forest. It had its own power plant, running electricity, sewerage system and all the amenities a modern city would have with its own Orkan flair. I was confused when I saw drinking water readily available in vending machines.

I would learn later that the 'water purification plant' was actually a trap laid out by the US Government, the American Orkan Nation and _NexArm_in an attempt to catch the AOA. Apparently the US and AON were tired of the AOA messing with their relations while _NexArm_was getting pissed at us stealing their products and using their weapons as a means to incite war.

We were taken to the Orkan equivalent of a church. It was a big, stone structure with strong, walls made of red stone, runes engraved into the very pillars and with animal skin hides hanging from the ceiling with depictions of scenes from the past. The building was built like a pentagon and there were big statues of big Orkans with different features at each of the point of the pentagon. Those of you who have studied Orkan culture would know that each of these were five gods of the Orkan pantheon, Gruul the Indomitable, Borgok the Wise, Darokagh the Crafter, Morrn the Reaper and Braan the All Seeing.

Here, we were forced to kneel in front of the shaman and the chieftain of the city, Throm. Looking up at the chieftain, I never knew Orkans could grow so big. He was at least nine feet tall and his entire body was brimming with muscles. His black hair was braided back and spread all over his arms, chest and legs. The animal skin clothes he wore amplified his masculinity as well as teased the viewer.

Weak from blood loss, I was a little out of it but I distinctly remember Norm and Gabriel giving Throm lip and the big chieftain gave them both a backhanded slap that sent them crashing to the ground, unconscious. Oleg promised that he would die but Throm just shook his head like he pitied them.

"I don't need anything from them," Throm announced. "I see only hate in their eyes. Let the us representative take care of them."

I distinctly remember him saying 'us' and it would be a while before I realised that he meant 'U-S' as in the United States.

The shaman, Kelldon, turned to his chieftain and said, "They will arrive shortly, my chieftain. What shall we do with them in the meantime?"

"Keep them under guard. They may be unarmed but I know they can be dangerous."

We were then hauled off outside the temple to the outskirts of town. There, we were tossed unceremoniously into a large pit lined with spikes around the rim so we could not easily escape. Our jailer, Ardash spat at us and it hit Gabriel on the forehead. That really got our fearless leader riled up and he charged up, trying to scramble up the pit while shouting profanities. Ardash just laughed and sat on the edge, taunting us.

Hours passed and Ardash tormented us by drinking water and eating in our faces, out of reach. In the hot sun and after bleeding profusely from our impromptu tooth extraction, we were starved and weak. At one point, Ardash actually emptied a whole water bottle into the pit, trying to goad us into begging for nourishment. This sent Gabriel into yet another blast of fury.

It was probably just about the time the sun began to set that the 'representative' came. He was a guy in a suit. Typical politician or negotiator. None of us knew much about the inner workings of the AOA and the briefing we were given was actually in a hotel room. The AOA had no concrete bases and I'm sure even veterans like Gabe and Wade wouldn't have known much about it. So we had no idea what to give this guy who was meant to be an ambassador to the States.

However, the suit didn't speak to us. Instead, he pulled what appeared to be a laptop from his briefcase and tossed it down to us. I was stunned that anyone would let an expensive piece of equipment drop several dozen feet into our pit but the machine actually remained intact and actually sprang open the moment it hit the ground.

On the screen, was a video conference call. Whoever was on the other end was silhouetted and I couldn't make out his features.

This was my first and only encounter with the Director, the head of the Nexus Conglomerate.

He greeted us cordially, introduced himself and then immediately cut to the chase.

"I want to know where you got your NexArm weapons," he said.

"Like we'd tell a fucking Orc sympathiser like you," Norman snarled back. "Go fuck yourself!"

"Charming. Let me be perfectly clear, gentlemen. I am your only lifeline out of this place. The US government, upon hearing of your situation, wanted nothing to do with any of you. As far as they are concerned, you are a group of terrorists with no affiliation with the United States. You may or may not have US citizenship and may have come from US territory but for all intents and purposes, you are in the hands of the Orkans now. None of your respective governments want anything to do with any of you and you will not garner any sympathy from people either especially considering what you attempted to do."

"We don't need anyone's sympathy," Gabriel answered. "We are prepared to die for our cause! And we'll take our secrets to our grave if we have to!"

"You will be judged by your actions accordingly, you realise. The Orkans have their own brand of punishment and I sincerely doubt such zealous anti-orc activists such as yourselves would like to be subject to such treatment."

"The only judge that I fear is Almighty God! Let Him judge my actions and I am sure that my cause is right and just! Orcs. Must. Die!"

The Director was silent for a moment. Then I realised he was stifling a laugh. "God. How cute. You know, I have this friend. Kind of preachy. Funny though. I owe a lot to him and something he told me that's stuck with me for my entire existence is this, 'There are no gods. Merely mortals'."

"Blasphemer!" Gabriel spat.

"I see that I will not be getting any information from any of you. Then again, it's not as if I really needed it."

Only then did I decide to speak up. My jaw hurt a lot from having a fake tooth extracted but I still managed to form the words. I asked him what he meant.

"Did you know that every piece of NexArm equipment is actually built with special nanobots that emit a special signal that will actually allow NexArm to locate them? And yes, that's exactly what it means. I know exactly where all your stockpiles, troops and bases of operation are. It's information I've shared with the world's governments but they have chosen not to act quite yet because, well, you guys are fairly clever and don't use exclusively NexArm equipment and a collective strike on the AOA, while it may decimate them, there is no guarantee that it will obliterate them all. Wise choice in my opinion but we do have that contingency should it come to that. Your mission was doomed from the beginning."

My heart sank and my eyes widened. They knew where we were. All those 'successful missions' were tracked and they knew about it. The Orkans were probably warned beforehand. A million questions were flying around my head. Why did they let Orkans die if they knew? Why were they letting us 'succeed' if they knew what we were up to? Was any of this actually worth anything?

"Oh I see you have so many questions. I'm sure your hosts would be more than happy to fill you in should you survive long enough to learn it."

"Then why did you come here and ask us where the weapons were if you knew where they were?" Oleg growled, breaking his silence.

"As I said, I am your lifeline. I wanted to give you a chance at redemption; a chance to shed your prejudices, hatred and warped moral codes for an opportunity to be decent human beings and open your minds. Sadly, it seems you're stuck in your ways so I shall leave you in the care of your captors to do with whatever they please. Good day and good luck."

"You fucker!" Wade shouted and lunged at the computer. He flung it at the wall and even kicked it a couple of times but whatever that thing was made of, it resisted all impacts. The Director was gone, the screen blank but still Wade continued to thrash the laptop around with all his might. He looked so manic with dried blood dripping down his chin, his eyes wide and teeth bared in fury.

All hope had left by body and I lay back down in the pit, awaiting my fate.

******

Morning came with a rather warm drizzle. I was quite thirsty then and I was desperate for any kind of moisture. In retrospect, I really should have checked exactly what it was I was drinking before I opened my mouth and lapped up what I thought was warm rain. Then I heard Ardash's bellowing laughter and I instantly awoke. It seemed that he had taken advantage of my slumber and poured water down from a water skin from where he stood over me. Several other Orcs were in the pit with us, keeping my teammates who were now fully awake, from intervening. I told myself that it didn't prove anything that I wasn't some dog begging for scraps from my master's table. But just the way he laughed at me... I shook me to my core.

I was even more disheartened that none of my teammates actually made any effort to defend me but that's what happens in the AOA. No camaraderie. Perhaps they too had been awoken in such a manner. I at least expected - no, hoped - that Wade or Gabriel would shout profanities at Ardash.

Ardash then told us that our 'wardens' were coming to collect us. I had no idea what he meant and honestly, I was furious that the big lug had made a fool of me. I didn't care what these 'wardens' were because I was determined not to let them get the best of me again. We had all come into this knowing we would be dead if we were ever caught so I bore no fear to dying. My only true fear was the fact that Throm said he needed nothing from us and the Director had all the information he needed from us so what else could these Greenskins want from us? Moreover, what could they do to us?

Five figures emerged from the edge of the pit. Two of them I recognised. Throm the chieftain and Kelldon the Shaman. The other three I did not recognise.

"You have invaded our home with the intention of killing our kind," Throm grunted. "By your own laws, you would be charged with terrorism and likely executed or imprisoned for life. But that is not the way of the Orkon. We cherish life. If you will be in our care, then you will work for your right to live."

"You might as well kill us now," Wade snapped. "I'm not working for a Greenskin."

"You will not be working," Throm said. He nodded to a tall, burly Orc that was dressed in only a leather skirt and straps across his broad, cleanly shaven muscular chest. I think the skirt is called a Pteruges. There were a lot of closed scars on his body and unlike many of the other Orcs I had seen who had a full head of luscious dark hair, this one had his trimmed short in an almost human-like style.

"This is Toruk. He is a trainer in the arena. You..." He pointed directly at Wade. "... will be fighting in the arena for the entertainment of the rest of the city."

Wade snorted loudly but remained otherwise silent.

He then beckoned to another Orc who had a rather thick belly but big, meaty arms. He was dressed in an apron and a dirty, soot-covered white shirt. To me, he looked like a smith.

"This is Zargon. He works the ironworks." Throm pointed at Norman. "You will be working under him."

"Ya'll be sorely disappointed," Norman drawled.

Throm ignored his reply and turned Oleg. "You. The big one. You will be working under Kelldon, our Shaman."

I found it strange that Oleg didn't utter something threatening. Perhaps he realised that the Orcs didn't know his reputation for death once he spoke. He just stared at Throm hatefully.

"And you," Throm said, gesturing at Gabriel. "You shall work with Yrdug on his farm." He gestured at the last of the Orcs beside him.

That left me wondering what was in store for me?

"And you," Throm said. "You shall be working for me."

******

After the initial shock of working for the chieftain of the city wore off, I began concocting of ways to turn this to my advantage. Perhaps I had failed in my mission to destroy the fake water purifying plant but perhaps this was an opportunity to do something greater. Namely assassinate the chieftain. I am not proud of these thoughts but murder was on my mind as the Orcs lowered a platform and lifted us one by one out of the pit.

The first thing they did once we emerged was slap these heavy bracers on us. They had some arcane runes engraved into them. Kelldon explained that they would keep track of us wherever we were and to remind us that we were still ultimately their prisoners. I bore them with pride. It was what reminded that I was a human and one that stood against the Green Menace and lived.

Throm then took me to his home.

I was surprised that I wasn't being shoved into some big, smelly hut layered with animal skins and with chamber pot in the corner. It was actually a decent, two storey home but definitely with its own Orkan touch. Like the rest of the city, the walls were made of a red stone that had been carved intricately to form sweeping curves and pillars. I would learn later that the shamans 'sung' to the rock to shape it with their magic and that gave it its reddish colour.

Throm led me to my room, a small area where the bed could barely fit inside right beside his own. I remember mentally laughing at how Throm was essentially handing me his head.

"This is where you will sleep," Throm grunted, gesturing at the feathery mattress with an animal skin blanket draped over it. "You'll find clothes in the chest at the foot of your bed. Wear them. Get cleaned up. The bathroom is at the end of the hall. Come down for breakfast in an hour."

Then he left, heading down back down the steps. I could hear the clattering of pans and cookery as he began to prepare a meal. I expected the worst or perhaps more mental torture as he ate a feast while I was given scraps like a dog. In an effort to keep my dignity, I decided I would keep the clothes I was wearing. Then I remembered that showing defiance will likely push me further away from the chieftain. I needed to act like I was a broken, beaten puppy. Though I killed me to strip off my human clothing, I did so for the pride of the good of the human race.

So I tossed my clothes aside and rummaged through the trunk for something to wear. Everything was several sizes too big for me. They were built for Orcs, after all. Eventually, I found a dark red tunic with furred edges and a leather kilt of sorts also covered in animal fur to keep the warmth. I forewent the boots simply because I couldn't tighten them enough to make them fit.

Once I had the clothes neatly bundled in my arms, I went to the bathroom to get the grime off me. If Throm wanted a pristine, clean human slave to show off, fine. But one day, he would be looking at me with his blood on my hands. That I swore.

A hot shower was too much to expect and so were some decent tiles floors. At least there was a drain in the dark, stone room. A large wooden tub sat at the centre of the room with some pipes ready to pump water in. Apparently, the Orcs hadn't figured out central heating quite yet because the water only came out cold. I grimaced as I stepped into the crystal clear waters and scrubbed myself down with a cloth. There was some soap offered but it smelled far too musky and strong for my taste. Besides, I wanted to avoid as much Orkan products as I could possibly manage. I didn't want their stink on me.

Once I was sufficiently clean, I stepped out of the tub and groaned as I realised there weren't any form of drying implements around. Not even a towel. These Orkans were really very primitive. I was fairly sure even the cavemen had towels. Shivering, I put on the crude clothing, grimacing at just how heavy they were. It was like wearing full body armour like back in boot camp where they trained you to carry heavy things so when you actually carried the real life implements it was much lighter.

I then headed back down stairs, barefoot and carrying the boots, to the smell of something sweet being cooked. My hunger got the better of me and my stomach rumbled in protest to not having eaten for about twenty-four hours. Having suffered enough humiliation throughout the day, I steeled myself, told my gut to suck it up and headed into the kitchen.

For a chieftain, I was actually rather surprised that Throm didn't have any servants or slaves to do his dirty work for him. He was actually cooking over a rather futuristic stovetop that was emitting some sort of ethereal blue light onto a large, white bot. He was stirring something inside that distinctly smelled like porridge. It was with some disgust that I noticed the HomNex_logo on the side of his appliances. They were the branch of the _Nexus Conglomerate responsible for providing furnishing and home ware to the public. Apparently, they were more than happy to provide the Orkans with such supplies. My disgust for the Orc sympathisers grew and the Director's words burned into my mind.

Throm took notice of me and frowned. "Do you always go around barefoot?" he asked.

"The boots were too big for me."

Throm grunted and turned back to the porridge. He poured some honey from a jar into it, added some milk and then took it off the stove. Then he proceeded to pour the contents onto two bowls before setting them on a small, knee high wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. There were a few cushions set around the table built for when Orcs would sit around and eat in a squatting position. By human standards, they were enormous. I waited somewhat patiently as Throm proceeded to garnish the porridge with some sort of brown powder.

My mind screamed 'poison' and I was frozen solid where I stood. Throm set down two bowls of water beside the porridge before placing a large, clay jug in the centre as well. He then waved at the cushion opposite to him, encouraging me to sit down. I was hesitant but I did as I was told. I had to be the obedient slave, after all.

Throm then proceeded to start shovelling the porridge into his big mouth using only his big, meaty fingers. I watched the brown powder disappear into his gullet carefully, waiting for some reaction. Was it some sort of poison that only affected humans? Were Orcs immune? Then Throm's big, yellow eyes glanced at me, expecting me to begin.

"You must be hungry," he rumbled.

"No, I'm Brandon."

Throm stared at me, dumbfounded at my response and I took some pleasure in proving - at least in my thoughts - that even the biggest of these Orcs was just a dumb brute. Then, against all expectations, he began laughing.

"I was right to pick you," he said. "You keep your wits. Good." He nodded and gestured with his sticky fingers at the porridge. "Go. Eat. You will need all your strength for today."

What horrors awaited me after this meal, I wondered. Then again, if I didn't survive the meal, it wouldn't matter. Though Throm seemed to be of the opinion that it wouldn't harm me anyway. I begrudgingly dipped my finger into the porridge, purposefully only getting a small dab of the brown powder as I did so. Then I brought it to my lips and drew a little taste.

"Cinnamon," I concluded, letting out a sigh of relief.

"It adds to the flavour," Throm mumbled.

Now Orkan proportions are much bigger than human and that naturally meant that Orkans ate much more than humans. Originally, that was one of the major topics of discussion in the peace talks. The world was already quite overpopulated and having these massive brutes who ate a lot and took up a lot of space would not be good in the long term. It would be a while before I learned that the Nexus Conglomerate again had become involved and somehow helped stabilise our rate of consumption versus production.

That said, even though I was hungry, I could barely consume half of the porridge that Throm gave me before I was fit to burst. Throm told me to finish it and I tried but after the second time, he took the bowl from me and finished it himself. He told me 'Orkans never let anything go to waste'. A reason why they did not practice capital punishment or outright killing prisoners or even terrorists for that matter unless it was absolutely necessary.

Once the meal was over, Throm told me to wash the dishes. I began but since I had no access to hot water, I found it a little hard to scrub off the pieces of porridge that had stuck to the bowls or the pot. I was at it for a good ten minutes before Throm came over.

"Why don't you use hot water?"

"You don't have any," I said venomously.

Then the chieftain chuckled. "Of course. You humans rely on electricity to provide heat and warmth."

I frowned. "And you don't?"

"The way you produce electricity is wasteful. It produces many harmful by products. We use our magic." Throm then mumbled the Orkan spell to provide heat and miraculously, the water streaming from the faucet began to steam. It made my job easier but it also made me feel a little... emasculated.

"Well humans don't use magic," I muttered.

"Too bad. If you did I'm sure you would have killed every one of us by now."

I caught the smug look on his face and remember thinking that he wouldn't be smirking when I chopped off his head.

Once the dishes were done, Throm gave me a quick outline of what his agenda was for the day. As chieftain, he was effectively the mayor of the town and also like their supreme judge. It was his job to make sure that the city ran well and that disputes were settled effectively. I didn't ask any questions at the time but when we started heading into the streets, I did wonder exactly where he was meant to make these rulings.

Our first stop was a large house near the centre of the city. It was occupied by three large Orcs, all male naturally. We were welcomed and then brought to another central knee-high table and served even _more_food. Throm then listened to their dispute. I couldn't understand what they were saying because it was spoken solely in Orkan but Throm would later explain to me that it was a matter of honour between the three housemates. Apparently, one of them had been caught sleeping with the other so the third felt rather left out and heartbroken as all three had been friends for a while. Throm's judgement was to try and spend time away from one another to see how they felt. Proximity would only drive the wedge between them further.

They accepted the ruling of their chieftain and they finished the meal. Orkans have an incredible metabolism, a reason why they generally fight longer, recover quicker and can eat so much and look like rippling green gods. So Throm had no issue with finishing the meal offered even though I couldn't eat a bite.

This happened several times until about noon. We would visit a house with some domestic dispute or another, Throm would give his ruling, a meal would be had and then we'd leave to our next destination. By then, my feet were aching as wearing the heavy, oversized boots was not very good. It was with some relief that we came to what I can only call an open air, public gym. In Orkan, it's called 'Ragnagruul' or 'Gruul's Workshop'.

For those of you who do not know, Gruul the Indomitable is considered the Orkan patron of strength and physical prowess. He valued an Orc's muscle structure, strength and size over all else. His 'workshop' was where Orcs would go to basically work out and improve bodies. Given their immense size, Orcs could easily lift a tonne of weight and still have room for more. Even the smallest of them would be comparable to human professional bodybuilders.

Throm immediately went towards a large fighting ring, basically just a large sandy circle where several Orcs were gathered and cheering on the combatants. They all gave way to their chieftain and Throm began stripping off what scant clothing he had so that he only stood in a big, white loincloth like the other two combatants. He then challenged the other two in Orkan to come at it. This was apparently something that happened often because neither of the other two Orcs thought twice before they began circling Throm cautiously.

I spotted Wade amongst the crowd not too far from his own warden. He was surprisingly not so... murderous as he watched Throm give the other two Orcs a sound beating. I wandered over to him and tapping him on the shoulder.

Like me, he was dressed in Orkan gear but unlike me, he was geared for combat. He had the same leather straps wrapped around his chest and shoulders as a gladiator but had nothing more than a loincloth around his waist. Instead of furry boots, he had sandals that looked much too big for him. I imagined that did not look too comfortable. Where most of the other Orcs constantly carried weapons, he was unarmed save for his own two fists.

"How are you doing?" I asked

"Fan-fucking-tastic," he growled. "Asshole stripped me down naked and strapped these oversized bondage gear on me. Then he tossed fucking sand all over me. Said some bullshit about fighting in the arena being an honour or some shit and that I now 'lived and breathed' the arena." He turned his head and spat on the ground in disgust. "Fucking savages. Drawing entertaining from blood sport."

I couldn't agree more at the time.

"At least you get to kill some of them." He gave his shoulder a light punch. "Gut one for me, will ya?"

He gave me a wicked grin. "I'll gut one for every hair on your head."

Thinking back now, I was disgusted by that thought and I'm sure Wade would be as well. We then turned back to the fight just as Throm let out a triumphant roar, his opponents soundly beaten. He then challenged _four_Orcs to come at him. Even as big as he was, he was not as big as four Orcs combined. But he was chieftain for a reason.

To this day, I have never seen a display such combat finesse as when Throm fought those four Orcs. Well... except perhaps when Waarl fight in the arena. When Waarl fights, its art and not just a brawl. I was treated to an example of an Orkan's incredible fortitude that day. At least two hours passed where Throm thrashed more new, fresh Orcs with each passing round. Before he finally retired from the ring, he had facing a good twenty of his brethren at once though I think the larger numbers actually gave him an advantage.

By then, he was dripping in sweat and emitting a putrid smell of sweat, blood and musk. He told me it was the smell of a man being alive. And he was not done. He then took me to a part of the Ragnagruul which was occupied by a series of wooden posts with leather straps hanging from them and metal manacles bound to the ground. This was where an exercise known as Sontargruul was to take place, 'Stomach of Gruul' in English. I watched in fascination as two Orcs strapped their chieftains wrists to the posts and bound his feet down by the manacles.

Then they began throwing punches at his stomach.

My jaw dropped open as those might fists, each capable of crushing boulders, crashed into the hardened wall which were Throm's abdominals with increasing ferocity. Throm took each blow with little more than a grunt. This was the kind of 'training' that the Orcs went through every day. After a solid thirty minutes of the beating, the two Orcs went to untie their chieftain but Throm told them that he wasn't done yet and they continued to pummel him for another thirty.

Only then did he move on to his next exercise with involved an enormous boulder at least twice his size and pushing it from one end of the Ragnagruul to the other. I noticed most Orcs could only do this once but Throm made an effort to do it twice to the cheers of his brothers. The simplest of these exercises was the Braxdamgruul, 'Blade of Gruul'. Two Orcs would work in unison to chop wood. One Orc would place wood on a flat stone and the other would bring down an axe to slice it in half. Then there was Targruulmal or 'Gruul's Tower of Might'. A roughly created pyramid of dirt, brick and wood sat at the centre of the training field, easily the most dominant feature. Orcs would carry piles of rock and race up the winding path around the tower over and over again.

All through this, I stood fascinated. Deep down, I was still disgusted by these 'beasts' but at the same time, their displays of strength and athleticism were something that any man could find amazing. Eventually, Throm finished with his exercises just as the sun was beginning to set. He put on his clothes, showing no weariness after at least five hours of beatings and labour and then led me with a grunt back to the temple.

"I know you don't worship our gods," he warned. "But you will at least_respect our practices. Do _not defile the temple."

I assured him I wouldn't do anything to his gods or his temple while mentally making a note that destroying the place of worship would likely serve as a means to demoralise him. At the same time, I wondered what Oleg was doing will Kelldan and whether or not the silent Russian had actually managed to paint the walls with blood yet.

I was a little disappointed to find that Oleg was dressed in furs just like Kelldan though his was a little more bland than the shaman's which was decorated with teeth of various animals and arcane runes. Kelldan had a group of Orcs gathered in the temple, standing in front of the statue of Borgok the Wise. Like the shamans that took after him Borgok was a leaner specimen of an Orc but still much broader and muscular than a human. He too was dressed in thick furs and wore a stag's head over his head complete with antlers to hide his features.

Kelldan was leading a sermon, speaking in Orkan while Oleg stood impassively to the side observing. Throm sat on a cushion respectfully at the back of the congregation while I stood beside him, the ever obedient slave waiting for his mater's beck and call. At one point, Kelldan beckoned for Oleg and my teammate stood forward carrying a jug of water. I watched curiously three other Orcs stepped forward, each of them carrying different items.

As Kelldan continued the sermon, he took a burning torch from one assistant and placed it inside a golden bowl on the altar in front of him. There was oil in the bowl so the moment he placed the torn inside, it ignited into a stunning conflagration. He continued his sermon until flames died somewhat then he had Oleg come over and give him the jug. I wouldn't have been surprised if Oleg smashed the jug over Kelldan's head but he didn't speak so no one died. Kelldan poured the water into the flames, dousing it entirely and leaving only the ash. The second Orc assistant gave Kelldan was appeared to be a handful of seeds and he placed them within the ashes. Then he began to chant and right before our eyes, plants began sprouting.

I lost some self-control and gasped, breaking the respectful silence. All the Orcs in the room glanced towards me and even Throm shot me an annoyed stare. I mumbled an apology and ducked my head.

Kelldan continued his chanting and the plant blossomed into a series of dandelions. The last assistant gave him a feathered fan which he then used to blow the dandelion seeds over the congregation. Prayers began emerging from the rest of Orcs must like any church sermon. Then the assistants, Oleg included, began distributing bowls of some sort of spicy brew and flat bread to each of those in attendance - me excluded. I would learn later that this was ceremonial curry, the favourite food of Braan the All Seeing and the bread was representative of the circular world that Darokagh the Crafter made in the Orc creation myth.

After the food was devoured, we left the temple but not before Throm chatted with some of his people just like he was in some sort of social gathering. He wasn't just their chieftain. He was their brother.

When he was done, he led me back to his home. Now remember that Algorok is a city not just a little village. The distances between locations is quite large but Orcs can make the trek very easily given their builds and endurance. For me though, someone who was given training and thrown through an unofficial boot camp, it was still exhausting. I tried to keep my pride to keep up but Throm lived in what is comparably the suburbs and the temple is in the centre of the city. That was still a good hour's walk back and by that time, was exhausted.

"You are tired," Throm accused.

"No I'm not," I answered defiantly.

He grunted and suddenly scooped me up in his mighty arms and I let out a might cry of protest. Against a spectacular specimen of an Orc like him though, my tiny fists couldn't do much. I eventually stopped squirming and just endured my embarrassment. My cheeks continued to burn, however, and I was desperate to fill the memory of being carried like a dainty princess with some other topic.

"Do you only pray in front of that one guy at the temple?" I asked.

"No. Today is Borgodun. It is Bargok's day. We pray in front of him on Borgandun. Just like we pray in front of Gruul on Gruudun or Darokagh on Darodun."

"So you name your days Borgandun for Mondays. What comes next?"

I'm fairly sure Throm smiled a little as he said, "Then Darodun, Gruudun, Braandun and then Morrdun."

"You know there are more than five days in a week, don't you?"

He gave me a snort. "Back home we only needed five."

That got me to thinking. "What was your home like?"

"Much like this place. Bigger though. Wider stretches of land and bigger beasts for food. Bigger trees. Bigger everything. Many more women."

"Women? I've never seen a woman Orc before." I frowned at him. "Or a child for that matter."

"Because they were never brought here," he answered with a hint of regret in his eyes. "Only men came here to this alien world. No women. No way to reproduce." He then offered me a twisted smile. "Except when we sleep with your women. Then they only come out full blooded Orcs."

I scowled at him and turned away. It is true that being an Orc is a dominant gene though humans can still be rather cruel and considered any Orc born of a human woman a 'half-breed'. Orcs don't treat them like that, however, for the simple fact that any Orc born of a human woman is always male. Whether or not it was a side effect of whatever brought them to Earth in the first place, I'm not sure but there was a way to continue to Orkan species at least. Except for isolated places like Algorok. Though life always finds a way. One would think that a big brute of an Orc would never be able to breed with a dainty human woman but, as I've said before, deep down, we are all the same.

It was about then that another Orc came rushing to us, shouting for the chieftain. He spoke quickly in Orkan and set me down. I saw Throm's expression look tired and weary and I couldn't help but ask what was wrong.

"Your friend is in trouble," he told me. He then crouched down in front of me. "Get on."

At first I didn't understand what he meant but then I realised he was telling me to jump on his back. I had suffered enough indignities at that point - at least in my opinion - and refused. He just grunted and then bolted towards the outskirts of town. Now I've run a few miles before as part of training but running at the speed of an Orc was just too much to expect of a human. Throm was nice enough to wait for me every time he got too far ahead and I just stubbornly kept running even though my lungs burned, my legs ached and my arms felt like lead.

We eventually came back to the pit on the outskirts of town. To my surprise, it was Gabriel down in the pit, battered and bruised while Ardash presided over him. When we arrived, Ardash told us that apparently Gabriel had set a whole lot of cattle loose to spite his warden and when he was told off, he grabbed a pitchfork and tried to injure a few farmhands. It was futile, however, and he was confined. When dinner came around, though, he stole a knife and tried to assassinate an Orc. He was caught and now he was in the pit.

Throm shook his head at Gabriel. "We offer you food and shelter and you continue to treat us as your enemy. I am sure there are rules in your human society by which one should treat prisoners and we treat you far more fairly than they would. Yet you continue to try and take our lives."

"That's because you're all fucking abominations in the face of God!" Gabriel bellowed. "Demons! All of you! I am doing God's work and I will die before I submit to your shitty 'hospitality'!"

That was the first time that I realised just how horrible I must have looked to the Orcs. Looking at Gabriel like that, it was like looking in a mirror. Perhaps I was not as open with my hatred of the Orcs as he was but looking at him bleeding, frothing in the mouth and with wide, wild eyes like that, I'm pretty sure I knew who the demon was and it wasn't the Orcs.

"That is your choice and your decision," answered Throm mournfully. "You will stay in the pit until you learn that we are all the same or you die."

"We are not the same! Humans are God's chosen people and you are fucking hellspawn come to trick us into a life of shit brutality, fucking debauchery and sick homosexuality!"

And he was the one that was shouting profanities.

Throm just shook his head and told Ardash to make sure Gabriel doesn't escape.

Then we left but I couldn't help but look over my shoulder and worry about my teammate.

******

When the next day came, we went through our usual ritual. I took a bath - was still too proud then to ask Throm to heat the water for me - we ate, I washed the dishes and then Throm told me what we were going to do that day. He wanted to check up on Norman and who was apparently working in the forges especially after Gabriel's outburst the other day. As usual, the forges were a fairly far from Throm's home and I quickly needed something to distract me from my aching feet.

"Do you know what brought you here?" I asked.

Throm shook his head and confessed that he did not. "We just went to sleep one day and then woke here, our women missing, out in the open and with strange little pink men pointing metal sticks at us."

"Why don't you try to go back?"

"If we knew where we were or how we got here, we would. But we do not. Our shamans pray to the gods and can still sing to the elements but we do not have any answers." Throm gave me a bitter smile. "Though the Director seems to have some idea."

"Him?" I spat. "You're taking help from him?"

"He knows things of our world that the rest of you do not. He can speak fluent Orkan and knows our customs. How he knows these things, I do not know, but he at least is offering to bring us home." Throm looked distantly to the blue sky. "Though I think I like it here. The sky is so blue and peaceful here. Back home it is red. The colour of war."

"You should find a way back," I told him. "If only for your women and children." Of course, back then I was just telling him this in an effort to get him off Earth.

Throm laughed softly. "I am what you humans call a 'confirmed bachelor'."

It took me a few seconds to process that. "You're gay?"

The big chieftain shrugged. "Is that so odd? Are there not gay men and women amongst your people?"

"Well... yeah but..." I didn't want to insult him by telling him most of the AOA considered their brand of homosexuality offensive despite mankind having long accepted homosexuality. When you think about it, it's kind of stupid. It's kind of like saying, 'It's okay for me to be gay but if you're gay, that's fucked up.' So I made up an excuse. "You're the chieftain. Shouldn't you be doing something to preserve your bloodline or something?"

Then he laughed again. "The only way to do that is to bed with your human women and so few of them are willing to come here as is even if our borders are open. Even then, we do not age on your planet for some reason. I have all the time in the world to find the right mate."

I was taken aback by that. "You don't age?"

He shook his head, his might mane of hair shaking from side to side. "No. It was something your scientists told us after they took a sample of our blood. We simply do not age. Years after our war, even our oldest has not added a new wrinkle. Our blood does not degrade outside of our bodies and will always remain fresh. We somehow grew teeth and tusks that have broken even after we already lost our first set and we simply keep growing bigger and stronger."

No wonder the governments of the world wanted to end the war with the Orcs. They were effectively ageless. The key to eternal youth could very well lay in their veins. But there were downsides to that. The Orcs were incapable of reproducing without their own women so they were a dying breed.

Slowly, I felt a little sorry for the Orkans.

That was a sad fate. To be forever young but unable to sire a child except if an enemy were to find bear your child. Slowly, you would see your race die and there would be nothing you could do about it. You'd just sit there, ageless, forever outside the grasp of death.

My musing kept me occupied until we reached the forges where Norman worked. It was hot, musky and very noisy. I was stunned at how many shirtless Orcs there were running about carrying huge pots of molten metal from one part of the forges to the other. My suspicion instantly began rising again. Were they making tools of war? Were they building their army for the inevitable war that the AOA warned us about? They were a dying race, right? What was stopping them from charging across the country, kidnapping women, raping them and continuing their race?

But then I heard a familiar voice shouting across the forges.

It was Norman.

"For fuck's sake, Tredor! Lift with your fucking legs not your back! Drut, Ranzar, Kruum, it's one-two-three-four! Not one-two-three-_fourfivefuckingsix!_One-two-three-four! One-two-three-four!"

I watched in utter amazement as Norman gripped a large chain in his big hands and gave it a yank, pouring some molten metal into a mould. He then yelled at several Orcs to stay behind the yellow line on the ground which was drawn in chalk. He proceeded to swear at them because he saw a _smudge_on the line and that meant someone had crossed it.

Throm was equally confused and told a nearby Orc to find him Zargon. The smith arrived a short while later.

"What is the human doing?" he asked.

"Naguk?" Zargon asked with a wear, shaky smile. "He is making us more efficient, chieftain."

"He's what?"

Zargon went to explain that yesterday, when Norman came into the factory, Zargon had him working on something simple - just pouring some molten metal into the moulds. But after the first incident when a passing Orc got some of the metal splashed on him and he went down with a cry, Norman had enough.

"We suggested drawing lines on the ground so that we would not crash into one another while carrying our containers," Zargon explained. "Then he had us working in teams to a rhythm to make us more efficient in shaping the beams. He had us get some hats as well to prevent injuries." Zargon tapped the metal helmet he wore. "We took training on how to 'lift with our legs' as well and he organised some morning training at the Ragnagruul before work then another one this afternoon for those that did not go and then another for the evening. We also now have 'morning break' and 'lunch break'."

To me it sounded like standard workplace safety procedures but apparently Orkans didn't have a concept of that.

Norman then glanced out the windows. Then he picked up a large horn and gave it a mighty blow. "Alright you fuckers!" he bellowed. "Morning break! Be back in thirty! First shift, you're off to the Ragnagruul!"

"Yes, Naguk!" shouted the Orcs.

"Why are you calling him 'Naguk'?" I asked.

Zargon gave me a sheepish grin. "I believe the closest translation you humans have is 'one whose anus is very tight'."

"A tightass?" I asked, my eyebrows lifted.

"Yes." Zargon gave me a pleading look. "Please do not tell me."

"Zargon!" Norman - Naguk - shouted. "What the fuck are you still doing in here!? You're not a fucking hen clucking with your fucking friends! Get the _fuck_off the floor and get some fucking fresh air!"

"Yes Naguk!" Zargon bellowed and he gave us a brief flash of a smile before bolting away.

I was... impressed. Norman had actually managed to tame and control a hell of a lot of Orcs. Seriously, that was unheard of. I began to wonder if there was a possibility that this could be used to the AOA's advantage. Maybe we could have our own Orc battalion or something.

Throm was utterly confused. "I will go speak with my brothers. Speak with your friend. I would know of his thinking."

Throm left and I headed up to where Norman was standing. It looked like he was doing some paperwork.

"Hey," I greeted. "So you're the boss of this place now?"

"Fucking savages," Norman muttered, slapping the sheets of paper in his hands. "Did you know they didn't even have any sort of bookwork for this place? Nothing about supplies or demand! They just made stuff because 'it felt right'. They're making fucking I-beams for no reason than busy work! They could be using that to make pipes where they're needed or plates for these goddamn shitty walls. But no. They know how to make I-beams so they make I-beams unless they're told otherwise." Norman shook his head and scribbled on his sheets.

"Why are you helping them, Norman?" I asked.

"It's Naguk," he responded with a grin of pride. "And we're dead to the world anyway. We don't exist as far as the government is concerned. Might as well make the most of it."

"But you're the most red-blooded, super-patriotic American I know. Why would you turn your back on your conntry?"

"Because my country turned its back on me!" Norman bellowed, jabbing the pen against his chest. "I knew the government was soft and sending supplies for these fucking green primates but when you let a goddamn_corporation_ push you into it, then all hope is lost for fucking America." He threw his hands up into the air and surrender and returned to his paperwork.

"Corporation?" I repeated.

"The Nexus Conglomerate. All the resources that get thrown into this shithole of a place comes from them. Not the US. The Conglomerate. From what I heard, there was actually a fucking skirmish between the US armed forces and the Conglomerate a few months ago." He was gripping the pen tightly, his knuckles going white. "Apparently, someone wanted to build a dam and that would ruin this place. The Orcs didn't want that. They put up a protest in front of the construction site but the US Army decided to go in and try and get them out. Then the fucking Conglomerate sends down fucking _supersoldiers_from the sky and drives back the Army!"

I reeled my head back. "You're kidding me. Supersoldiers? From the sky? Where are you getting this shit?"

Norman scowled at me. "From the fucking Conglomerate_bastard that _teleported into this place with stacks of raw copper, iron and whatever else the Orcs need." He pointed to the centre of the forge where there was a big, red bullseye build and warning signs erected around it. "They teleport in there every morning and chat it up with the Orcs. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes but that's what happened. They told me that the only reason the US even tolerates the Orcs is because our fucking President is in bed with the Conglomerate. Apparently there's an arms exchange deal or something. The Conglomerate is _centuries_ahead of us. If the US lets the Orcs stay, they're exchange technology."

"What!?" I exclaimed, utterly appalled. Though I will confess I wasn't sure if I was appalled at the fact that my government would be intimidated by a corporation or that it took intimidation from a corporation for my government to do the humane thing and not commit genocide.

Norman - Naguk - shook his head. "It's fucking messed up, man. The American values are dead and gone. I ain't fighting for that shit." He dotted an 'I' extra hard so much so that he pierced the paper. "Thought I might as well make something of this place if I'm gonna be a fucking prisoner."

I left Naguk while he stewed, disturbed that my government would do such a thing. Yes, I was effectively a mercenary and it wasn't really my government anymore but I honestly thought I was fighting for what was right. But here I found out that the US's stance on Orc tolerance was just a front forced by a megacorporation.

Who were the good guys in this? I wasn't sure anymore.

I went back to Throm and he asked me what I had found out. I told him just the bare minimum, that Norman - I refused to call him Naguk in public - was trying to make the best of a bad situation. Throm said that was admirable and quite an Orkan thing to do. I made no comment and refused to believe that Norman was going Orc-lover.

I told myself that was impossible. Not him.

******

Our next stop was the arena. Apparently, Wade was going to have his first match there. I was eager to see a human beat an Orc if only to reaffirm that we were superior and our strength was not in question. The definition of 'we' was blurred at the time. Did I mean the human race? The US government? The AOA?

In either case, I wanted to see an Orc beaten.

The arena was just as you'd expect. It was a sort of coliseum-like place. Big, circular, with bleachers all around. Throm, as the chieftain had a prime seat in a shaded box with a good view. He sat on a big cushion with plenty of water and food available for him should he get hungry. There were minimal guards and I wondered how easy it would be to push him off the box so that he fell into the arena. Though I recalled how easily he had beaten back twenty Orcs and realised that the wild animals they had on the Arena grounds would not match up to him.

Blood sports confirmed my suspicions that Orcs are a brutal race but that was quickly put into doubt when a big, burly shaman stepped out on the arena grounds accompanied by a big, Grizzly bear. He seemed to exert some sort of control over the bear as he sent it to attack a gladiator. No killing blows were allowed. Yes, blood was spilled but the bear would be immediately healed by the shaman. At the same time, the shaman made sure the bear didn't maul the gladiator... too much.

The crowd still cheered and roared in approval when a blow or two was struck and even Throm approved of the sport. To me, it was disgusting. Eventually, the Orc succeeded in subduing the bear. He had a big axe to the might Grizzly's throat and the poor creature was looking up at him in defeat.

Throm gave a booming command in Orkan.

Was that the equivalent of Caesar giving the thumbs down? Was the Grizzly going to die now and its head thrown to the chieftain as a reward?

No.

The Orc instead just got up, gave the bear a pleasant pat on the head and even helped it up and escorted it back to its shaman where it would be healed through magic.

"What just happened?" I asked.

"We cherish life," Throm told me. "Our shamans make peace with the animals that they train and choose. While they fight in the arena, no one dies. It is not our way."

"You seemed quite happy to kill humans a few years ago," I muttered.

"It was out of survival. We were in an alien place. We had no idea how we got there and you people began shooting at us."

"Because you people razed our cities and killed our families."

"Perhaps but if you remember, we extended our hands in peace first."

He got me there but I wasn't about to admit that and remained silent. The event I was looking forward to finally came up. The announcer bellowed that entering the arena was a proud Orc warrior by the name of Hargurak and his opponent would be a human but the name of Waarl.

"Waarl?" I asked, glancing at Throm.

"His stage name," Throm responded. "The arena is a place of entertainment not a place of blood. Here it is just sport and fun. Those who enter do not use their actual names. It adds to their mystery. Hargurak means 'Heart Eater' but he doesn't actually eat hearts. Waarl means 'Man of War'."

I snorted derisively. "Huh... sounds a lot like professional wrestling."

"What is that?" Throm asked curiously.

"It's..." I frowned. "It's actually a lot like what you're doing here. Big buff guys go into an arena, dressed in ridiculous costumes bearing stage names and beat each other. It's choreographed though."

"Well this is not."

I would soon learn that as true as Wade entered the arena in his armour and wielding two swords that were much smaller than normal Orkan swords. Seemed that he had some made just for him. He was at a severe disadvantage, however. Modern soldiers were not trained to use swords. They were trained on how to shoot and throw grenades. At most, they knew how to use a bayonet or a combat knife but a full on sword...?

When the match begun, Wade went charging at his opponent like maddened bull. No restraint at all. No finesse. The crowd went silent as he began swinging his swords wildly at his opponent. The Orc blocked the blows with ease, even going so far as to parry a few of Wade's sloppier moves with a flourish and that was what got the crowd cheering again. They were jeering at Wade's sloppy tactics and I could see Toruk yelling from the sidelines for Wade to remember his training.

But Wade... Wade loved to fight and he didn't care how he fought.

Eventually, the crowd started to grow bored and, sensing this, Hargurak slammed his shield right into Wade's face after an opening. I winced and reeled back as blood exploded from Wade's nose and he went down, losing his grip on his swords.

"Your friend doesn't seem to have picked up on the spirit of the arena," Throm said sadly.

"He's not an Orc," I rumbled.

"You don't need to be an Orc to understand that down there..." He pointed at the sandy pit. "It is just you and your opponent. Down there, you test your honour and courage. You can train as much as you want but outside of battle, that is the only place where you will be able to look into your opponent's eyes and match your will against theirs."

"But neither of them will die."

"There is no honour in death. You may die honourably but you will still be dead. You will have left behind a mother, a father, a brother, sister, a mate or a child."

Those words struck home with me. I was so determined to die for my cause against the Orcs and now that I learned that the cause might very well be flawed I began to question what I would be leaving behind if I did die. I wondered if Naguk, Oleg, Gabriel or even Wade understood that.

To his credit, Wade got back up and continued fighting but it was a losing battle. I couldn't watch him get beaten over and over again. It just reminded me that of the doubts stirring in my mind. I turned my attention elsewhere and heard the rather frustrated grunt from Throm. It seemed he was having trouble plucking some grapes from its stalk. His fingers were too big and meaty to pluck them off one at a time and he was crushing them before he could bring them to his lips.

I didn't feel like calling 'brute' again, not after my resolve shaken.

I reached over and pulled a grape from the stalk for him and held it over his lips.

"That was unnecessary," he rumbled.

"Yeah well so was carrying me like your damsel in distress last night."

He laughed softly and humoured me, opening his big jaws so that I could drop the delicate little grape down his gullet. He gave me exaggerated chewing gestures and I rolled my eyes, plucking grapes for him and feeding him. I was leery of his massive tusks, afraid that he might actually end up snapping up my fingers at one point but as the match wore on, I grew more and more comfortable.

Just as we finished the stalk, he held up his hand. There was a resounding clang and Wade fell to his knees. The Orc he was facing placed a sword against his neck. He was bruised, bloodied and beaten. Little of his olive, tanned skin was not covered in blood.

Throm gave his command again and the Orc pulled his blade away and took a step back. He turned to the crowd and lifted his sword and shield to their cheers. Throm got up and applauded. He would tell me later that he would have showered Wade with accolades as well for fighting courageously.

But then Wade did a very stupid thing.

He snapped up his sword and with a burst of strength, lunged at his opponent.

Something just snapped in me.

This was not honourable. This was not the kind of person I wanted to be standing triumphant over an opponent. This was not the world I was fighting for.

This was not the right thing.

"Look out!" I screamed.

The Hargurak heard my warning and spun around. He was momentarily caught my surprise but, despite being enormous, Orcs are nonetheless very fast. He brought up his shield in time and blocked Wade's blow. Several other Orcs began emerging from the bleachers and immediately restrained Wade who bellowed and thrashed in anger. He shot me one venomous stare before an Orc promptly hit him over the head with a fist, knocking him out.

I felt... terrible.

But at the same time, I felt like I had done the right thing.

******

The trip back to Throm's house was rather quiet. We stopped by the temple again for another mass and, as always, Oleg was quiet as he helped Kelldan perform the ceremonies. Occasionally, I could see him mouthing words. Perhaps someone would die after all. I thought about warning Kelldan but my actions had already led to one fellow human's defeat. I couldn't possibly do that to another.

I was too preoccupied with my guilt over warning Wade's opponent to give much thought to my aching feet until we arrived in Throm's abode and the chieftain announced that he would be taking a bath. I thought about taking a bath myself if only to soak my aching heels but I remained quiet. I had seen Throm prepare his evening meal before and decided I might as well do something while he was in the bath.

So while he was upstairs, preparing his bath, I cooked up some of the meat he had prepared earlier which he had covered in spices. I cooked that in the fascinating technology of the Conglomerate and boiled up some rice. It took a good hour for the meal to be ready and when it was, Throm was just coming down from upstairs, looking rather surprised that I had cooked a meal for him. But he gave no complaints as we sat down for our meal.

Naguk's words stuck with me and I just had to know if they were true.

"Is the Nexus Conglomerate really the only thing keeping you from being attacked by the US?"

"It was the Conglomerate that taught us how to speak your language and set us on the road to peace," Throm answered. "The approached us one by one and reminded us of our situation. Back then, we had no idea that we could breed with your women and to be frank, most of us still find your women to be frail and too soft. They also smell far too sweet. At least that is my opinion. You were killing more and more of us and we could not recover from that even with our superior strength and magic. So they helped us broker peace."

"And they're still supplying you with stuff?"

"Your governments suffered greatly from the war and still do not trust us with trade agreements. While our borders are open to them, they will not send us supplies nor will they accept anything we have to trade. A reason why you are still without magic."

"And what does the Conglomerate get out of this?"

Throm frowned at that. "I do not know. From all appearances, they are the ones that lose the most from both agreements. They supply us from their own stores and they trade technology with your governments with little for them to gain. I have had long discussions with my fellow chieftains about what they would want but I've learned that they have far more advanced magic than even we do."

"That's probably just technology you don't understand," I muttered, glancing at the stove. "Even tech_I_ probably don't understand too..."

"No. I have seen them with runes and crystals. Once, when a group of campers were trapped in a storm without our lands, the _Conglomerate_knew your government would put the blame on us for their deaths regardless of what happened. One of their men quelled the storm with a dismissive wave of his hands. If that is not magic, I do not know what is."

That unnerved me. What was the Conglomerate after? They were a corporation. They should only care about profit and yet they were just giving away things for the sake of charity. Then a thought occurred to me.

The US government still reviled the Orcs in their own way and were more than eager to send troops against them. So why did they allow the AOA to be disbanded? Even if one country still supported them, I was fairly sure that it could still survive. But then I realised that there were more than just the AOA, governments and Orcs in this equation. There was the Conglomerate too.

What if a stipulation of the Conglomerate's peace with Orcs and the governments was that the AOA be disbanded? I was never much of a conspiracy theorist but I began to wonder about what the Director said. He knew where most of our weapons were and the only reason he asked us if we knew where they were was to offer us a lifeline, to offer us a way out.

What if the Conglomerate had their hand in everything?

Not just the Orcs. Not just the government. But the AOA as well.

What if the Nexus Conglomerate was secretly controlling the AOA? Where did those _NexArm_weapons come from, after all? The _Conglomerate_had technology beyond my wildest dreams _and_magic. And a ragtag group of anti-Orc activists with military training managed to steal from them? Hell, where did the AOA even get its funding from? Who paid for our plane tickets? Our equipment?

I suddenly felt very sick and excused myself from the table. I hurried up to my room and shut the door, hyperventilating.

It occurred to me that perhaps, the Conglomerate had maintained the AOA for the express purpose of rooting out anti-orc sentiments and dealing with them. Was I just a victim of their machinations? Were my missions doomed from the start?

A knock came to my door and Throm asked if I was feeling alright. I lied to him and said that I was just tired and my feet were killing me. I just needed a rest. He pushed open the door even though I had my weight against it. He told me that I should take a warm bath as it would help.

"I don't need a bath," I snarled at him. "I just need rest."

"No. You need a bath," he said. "You stink."

Then he unceremoniously scooped me up in his big, meaty arms and carried me over to the bathroom. I protested. Kicked. Yelled but it was futile. He dumped me in the tub and then began pulling my clothes off me. Like a petulant child, I made sure he had as much difficultly as possible but he was still much bigger than I was and he had me stripped naked before long. I braced myself for the blast of cold water when he turned on the faucet but I was surprised when he chanted a soft spell. Warm water washed over me.

After two days of cold baths, I cannot tell you how _amazing_it felt to have warm water washing all over me. I melted in the waters, a fresh, hard ice cube slowly being eroded in hot spring waters. I relaxed and though my feet and limbs still throbbed, I found the pain and panic starting to fade. It took five minutes for me to remember that Throm was still in the room.

"I can take it from here," I said.

"I need to be here to keep the waters warm."

He picked up that foul smelling bar of soap. "Come. I shall was your back."

"I don't need your help," I snapped. "And besides, that thing stinks."

"To humans but you are surrounded by Orcs. And you stink to Orcs. Now sit up."

"No!"

Throm rolled his eyes and seized the back of my head with his mighty hand. He dunked me underneath the waters for one brief moment before pulling me back up. I coughed and spluttered but in doing so, I had lowered my guard. Throm then proceeded to scrub my back with the musky bar of soap. It had a rather rough surface. For an Orc's thick, green skin, it wouldn't have had any effect but for humans, it was a little abrasive.

I grumbled as Throm proceeded to lift my arms and scrub me down, making sure to get every arch and curve of muscle on my body. He even rubbed it into my curly, brown hair to make sure I got all the sweat and grime of the day out. Then came the best part.

Throm reached down towards my aching feet and began rubbing the soap into them. Despite his big, meaty hands and corded forearms, he was surprisingly gentle. As he kneed my sore feet, I couldn't help but moan as the pain was gently washed away with his rhythmic rubbing.

"There, see?" he told me. "You needed this."

"Just... shut up..." I mumbled.

"Shogor."

"What?" I asked.

"It means 'shut up' or 'silence' in Orkon."

"Shogor..." I murmured softly, a soft smile on my face. "Shogor."

Throm nodded and moved to my next foot, gently easing away the pains of the day. "Something is bothering you. Why not tell me?"

I wondered what use it was to be spouting my conspiracy theories to an Orc. Some part of me kept saying that these guys were brutish knuckle-dragging mouth-breathers with brains the size of peas and built only for smashing things but what I've learned so far contradicted that. They were industrious, devout, honourable and intelligent men. Though it killed me to admit it.

"I think the Conglomerate is manipulating the world," I confessed to him. "I think that they're the ones behind the AOA and kept it going only to root out the anti-Orc extremists. They're supporting you and keeping the governments back for some reason but I don't know what. Hell, they might even have been the ones that sent you here in the first place."

Throm laughed softly.

"What? You think that's funny?" I asked.

"No. I just remember something a human told me once. 'Great minds think alike.'"

"So you've had the same suspicions?"

"All the chieftains have. We just have no proof. How else to you explain how the Director knew of our world? And as you said, you sad now children. Male or female. They did not come here with us. It may be that they just brought only the grown men here but still left enough adolescents in our home to repopulate as needed." Throm shrugged his mighty shoulders. "Again, we do not know and we do not have proof on what their end goal is. But it is on the back of our minds as we deal with their generosity."

"You should do something about it!" I exclaimed. "You can't sit around and get used by them!"

"We are not being used," Throm said calmly. "We are waiting and seeing what will happen. You saw what happened when we jumped to conclusions. Too many people died then. On both sides."

I sank back into the warm waters and sighed. "I suppose so... Still... It makes me sick thinking that they're just sitting there toying with us. Makes me want to do something about it."

Again, Throm chuckled but this time I waited for him to say something. "There's a word for people like you. Burgash. It means 'brave and bold'."

"Burgash?" I repeated. For some reason, that just resonated with me. "What? Is that going to be my Orc name now? Naguk and Waarl both got one."

Throm laughed, this time heartily. "If you wish it to be. I think it suits you."

"Burgash," I murmured with a smile. "What does your name mean, by the way?"

"Thunder," he responded. "Throm means thunder."

"Why were you called that?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "That is not something for your ears."

"Oh come on," I pleaded. "You've seen me naked. I'm lain bare for you. There's no secrets I can hide anymore. The least you owe me is why you got that name. Is it because your parents heard the clap of thunder when you were born?"

Throm shook his head and gently rested my feet back below the soapy waters. "No. Orkans get their names on their eighteenth birthday. Until then, we merely have the name of our father with 'gal' as a suffix if we are male and the name of our mother with 'kai' if we are female. When we come of age, our deeds from that point on are counted and we are given a name based on it."

"So you got thunder why?" I pressed. "Because you charge down the warpath and each footstep sounds like thunder."

"No."

"Your warcry is like thunder?"

"No..." He was actually blushing at this point.

"What then? Come on. Tell me."

Throm sighed heavily and leaned against the tub. "It is because I was quite... active with my brothers. I was known for... causing the bed to shake and rumble like thunder and my cries of... pleasure ring in your ears well across the village."

It took me a second to get through all of his euphemisms.

"So you're telling me... that you got your name because you pounded guy's asses so hard that people thought they were hearing a thunderstorm?"

Throm chuckled softly. "I know. It was a childish thing to be named after. I have not been with a man since we came here and sadly, the thunderstorm has died. Still, that is my name and I bear it with honour." He got up and deposited the soap in my hands. "I am sure you can take care of the rest from here. Sleep well, Burgash."

Then he left.

And the water remained warm.

******

When morning came, I went down to the kitchen ahead of Throm waking and began making breakfast - our staple, honey porridge with cinnamon. I was halfway through when Throm came down looking a little surprised.

"You do not have to cook for me," he said. "I am perfectly fine with doing it myself."

"I've got to start pulling my weight around here if I'm going to be your slave," I said.

"You aren't my slave," he said. "Though I can see how those manacles could make you feel that way. You'll forgive me for insisting they remain on. It has only been two days."

I suppose it was a little too much to hope that they would get taken off. "It's fine," I said. "Anyway, sit down. I'll have this ready soon."

Throm told me that we would be visiting Oleg today and check up on Gabriel again. I was concerned about my friends especially the one in the pit. Gabriel's hateful stare haunted my dreams and I wondered if he would still feel the same if he realised that the enemy here was the _Conglomerate_not the Orcs. I made it my mission to at least tell him about it.

"Could we check on Waarl as well?" I asked. "We was pretty bruised and battered yesterday."

"Of course. Do you think you can make the trek?"

"Just try and keep up," I answered with a smirk.

After breakfast, I headed up stairs to take my usual bath. I was surprised when Throm came in with me and then he reminded me that I needed him to keep the water warm. At one point, I made a mental note that I would have to learn that spell. This bath was rather uneventful but as we chatted idly about Orkan culture versus human culture, I could feel his eyes roving my body. It was the little things. Just the way he'd sometimes pause before answering a question and I'd catch his golden eyes drifting up to meet mine from wherever it was peering at to the way he would slowly rub the soap across my body without any rush.

I was starting to think that my captor was fascinated with my body and to be sure, he had one hell of a body as well.

Throm did his rounds at the Ragnagruul and I was actually surprised to find Naguk was there being the hardass that he was named after. Somehow, he had obtained a whistle and was blowing it constantly as he made the Orcs under his command run laps around the field. At least he was keeping fit as well. The work at the forge certainly wasn't doing him any harm.

After that, we headed straight to the temple.

I learned that the temple was also a sort of learning centre where Orcs could learn more about their culture. There was also a library in the back and that was where we found Kelldan and Oleg. Both were sorting their thick, dusty tomes, most of which were rewritten from memory by the shamans and were constantly being improved. Apparently, the Orcs had arrived on Earth with little more than a few weapons and the clothes on their back so in an effort to maintain their culture, they had to write up what they remembered of their culture and history.

"Talk with your friend," Throm told me. "I wish to speak with Kelldan."

I nodded and headed over to Oleg who was sifting through one of the Orkan books.

"What're you doing?" I asked, fully expecting little more than a grunt.

"Looking over the Stormhammer War," answered Oleg with his thick, Russian accent. "Two shamans are disputing whether or not it was a broken trade agreement that started it or the death of a chieftain with no heir."

I took a step back in shock. Those were a lot of words for Oleg. How many people were going to die?

"Y - Y - You talked!" I exclaimed. "Do I have to tell Throm to get several caskets made?"

He gave me an exasperated look. "Shogor."

Again, I blinked at him. "Did you just tell me to shut up in Orkan?"

"You speak it?" he asked. "Did the Khual teach you?"

"Erm... No. I only know 'shogor' and what the hell is a 'Khual'?"

"Chieftain," Oleg answered, shutting the book with a snap. "The literal translation is 'King' but Kelldan says that kings are born but Khual are chosen by right of strength and leadership. He's been teaching me all Orkan words."

There were a thousand words flying around my head but the first one to come out was, "Why? Moreover, why are you willing to learn? You haven't given up like Naguk, have you?"

Oleg shook his head sadly. "You know I lost my family to the Orcs, yes?"

"Killed in Russia when they first invaded. Yeah."

"Well these Orcs lost their families as well. Torn from them without explanation. They were just suddenly dumped here on our planet without warning and with no hope of ever seeing them again." He gave me a searching look. "How would anyone react if that were to happen?"

"I'd probably be a little desperate and try to look for a way back."

"Yes..." Oleg murmured softly. "Anyone would. They search for a reason. Someone to blame. I see much of myself in them. And when that happens, I simply cannot hate them like I used to."

I was amazed. Oleg was probably the deadliest of our group and probably had the most legitimate reason to hate the Orcs. But out of all of us, he managed to let go of his revulsion the quickest. Naguk still harboured some resentment and Waarl was an inferno of rage and hatred. I wasn't sure about Gabriel but Oleg...

"You managed to let go of that grudge fairly easily..." I said.

"After you hate for so long, you eventually get tired of hating," he answered. "Kelldan told me that. He told me that my hate will not bring my family back. No matter how many Orcs I kill, I will never hold them in my arms. It is a lesson they learned during our war. No matter how many humans they kill, they are never going to get home and they will be doomed here with no women to fill the void in their dying species."

That... sounded frightening familiar.

"That thing about the women... Who told them that? Was it the Conglomerate?"

Oleg frowned at me. "No. They figured it out themselves. It's hard not to notice that there are no women around here. We've never seen female Orcs either. But it certainly was a selling point for the Conglomerate. They needed the help." Oleg sighed and shook his head. "Did you know I was actually a school teacher before all this happened?"

I confess, I did not. Oleg never spoke and when he did, someone died. So I was never eager to ask him about his past.

"No..."

"Local school teacher in a place up in Russia. Never thought something like Orcs would come out of nowhere and raze the town." He pressed a hand against his chest. "I've carried that rage for my entire life. It was hard to let it go. But these past few days... I'm ashamed that I held onto it for so long when these Orcs lost so much more and managed to let it go far quicker. It is... humbling."

I didn't know what to say. Thankfully, Kelldan interrupted us with Throm by his side.

"We should get going, Olodagh," said the shaman. "We have morning sermons."

"Yes, Kelldan," Oleg replied. He bowed towards Throm. "Ra'Khual."

I frowned at him. "Olagdagh?"

"It means 'Opened Eyes'," Oleg answered with a smile. "I'll see you tonight maybe as evening sermons?"

I glanced at Throm who smiled and responded with, "I and Burgash will be there."

It was Oleg's turn to frown at my name. "It means 'brave and bold'," I responded.

Kelldan snickered, a sly smirk thrown in Throm's direction. "The literal translation in your terms is actually 'One with large genitals'. Though if I understand human culture correctly, that is synonymous with bravery."

My cheeks burned and I shot Throm a puzzled look to which he immediately averted his gaze with his own cheeks turning slightly red. Oleg went with Kelldan while I left with Throm. It wasn't until we were outside of the temple that I asked him about my name.

"It is true," Throm rumbled. "We give names based on their most prominent feature or achievement. For you, it was obvious."

"I'm not that big," I muttered bashfully though I couldn't help but be a _little_flattered by the sentiment. "But... Thank you, I suppose?"

Throm gave me a grunt though I think he was trying to hide a smile.

We headed to the arena next where the gladiators were training. As concerned as I was for Gabriel, Waarl was the one that was severely beaten and tarnished the honour of the arena. While Orcs valued life, I was unsure how they would react to his actions. When we arrived, Throm spoke in Orkan to the other gladiators who were hard at work honing their craft. Just like the times we visited the Ragnagruul, it was a treat to watch these Orcs train. Though the Ragnagruul was built more for bodybuilding by Orkan standards, the arena was where Orcs trained for combat. They grappled with one another, swung wooden swords, bashed shields and jabbed spears in practiced, deadly manoeuvres that would put any human to shame. If an Orc got within arm's reach of even the most highly trained soldier, they would never have been able to survive the encounter.

I heard Toruk and Waarl's names in Throm's conversation and one of the gladiators, dripping with sweat and smelling of blood and musk, led us to the back of the arena training grounds. There was a place called the Morrnkatal or 'Judgement of Morrn'. In case you didn't know, Morrn was known as the Reaper. Unlike other Orcs, he was fully armoured and while his body was built just like an Orc's, his features were hidden by a thick helm and he was commonly depicted with a single, enormous club that was nearly as big as he was adorned with dozens of Orc skulls. He is their god of death and he is meant to be both brutal in his judgements but also fair.

The Morrnkatal was a small room with a single skylight above covered with glass shaped in a convex manner. This ensured that sunlight was focused straight down on the stockade where the poor soul trapped there would be pinned. That soul was Waarl and I winced at the blistering sunburns that had already started to appear across his bare back. He was completely naked, bend over uncomfortably and full awake. It didn't look like his wounds had been treated from the previous day either so he was still vey bloody.

Throm spoke with Toruk who oversaw the punishment.

For my benefit, they spoke English.

"He is tough," Toruk said. "Refused to sleep and remains awake. He will not cry out for mercy." An impressed smile crossed his features. "Very much like an Orc."

"I am not one of you bastards!" Waarl shouted.

He really was awake.

"Can I speak with him?" I asked.

Throm nodded and I headed into the chamber, moving to stand in front of Waarl.

"You smell like them," he spat.

"And you smell like shit," I retorted.

Waarl gave me a crooked smile. "What do you want, traitor?"

"I didn't betray you."

"You warned that fucking Greenskin!"

"And what do you think would have happened if you had killed that guy?" I snapped back. "You may have gotten one good hit in but you do know you would probably have ended up in the pit with Gabriel or dead."

"Better off to die fighting these sick fucks than to become their fucking lapdog!" His eyes narrowed at me. "Did they give you another name just like Oleg and that mouthy fucker? Fuck, can't even remember his name now. They call him Naguk now."

"Yeah," I responded defiantly. "They call me Burgash. It means brave and bold."

"Right." He spat at my feet. "Well you're not going to convince me to stop fighting. The other two already tried. Naguk kept telling me there was no use in fighting for the government because they're fucking cowards and Oleg said these guys aren't as bad as they seem. What're you going to throw at me?"

I gave it some thought. I really didn't want to see my teammate suffer like that but I didn't know him well enough to say something that would convince him to put aside his urge to fight the Orcs. But then... I began to wonder. Was he fighting the Orcs or was he just fighting for the sake of fighting? He didn't reject Naguk's notions or Oleg's. He just said that neither of the other two managed to convince him to stop fighting.

"I don't want you to stop fighting," I said.

"Oh yeah?" Waarl challenged.

"Yeah. Because that's who you are. A fighter. You always want to fight but you've always been fighting for someone, haven't you? You've been fighting for the AOA. But you've never once fought for yourself. You've just used the Orcs and the AOA as an excuse to fight."

"Look who's suddenly a fucking shrink," Waarl laughed, flashing me his bloodied teeth. "You don't know me."

"Maybe I don't. But I_do_ know what's going to happen." He nodded towards where Throm and Toruk were standing. "They value life here, Waarl. And if you don't do the same, you're going to have a pretty shitty one."

"The fuck are you talking about?" he asked though I knew he understood what I meant.

"You know those places in the world that don't support capital punishment? Instead they just throw their serial killers and mass murderers into cells to rot? Well the same is going to happen to you. Except instead of rotting, you're going to get every piece of you hacked off bit by bit while you fight in the arena until you die of old age."

"That doesn't sound so bad. Like you said. I live to fight. Maybe that's what I want."

"You mean you never want to win?" I struck a nerve and his eyes went wide. "You're never going to win, Waarl. Not with that attitude. You're going to lose every single match you fight. It'll be the same day in, day out. You go out there, you try and kill an Orc and you end up having your ass handed to you. Do you honestly think you can put up with that sort of shit?"

Waarl stared back at him, furious but at the same time, I could see a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

"The arena is a place of honour," I told him. "It's where people go in to fight, put on a good show for the crowd and walk out with their heads held high. It's the same with football games back home. Two teams go in, they beat each other until they're tired and bruised and no matter who wins or loses, if they put up a good fight, they can walk out with pride and lessons learnt. But you? You're going to be the team that will lose every single match and never once will get a single person to cheer for them. Because you know you aren't going to win and you have to resort to underhanded tricks to try and scrape some semblance of victory. You don't respect the game. You just want to win and you're never going to get that."

For a long time, Waarl just stared at me...

Then his gaze dropped.

I had said what I needed to and turned around to leave.

"They're turning you into one of them, you know, Burgash," Waarl growled at me. "One day, you're going to wake up with green skin and you won't even remember what your name was."

I glanced over my shoulder. "My name is Brandon Gantry," I told him. "But I choose to go by Burgash."

*******

Throm was smiling all the way to the pits but my encounter with Waarl had put me in a foul mood. I understood the Orcs' desire to preserve life and it just pissed me off that Waarl would throw away his life like that. It was a life without purpose. Fighting for the sake of fighting and not to win, gain honour or better himself. It was despicable.

I wasn't sure whether my words really reached him but I pushed it out of my mind and led the way to the pit. It was about lunch time when we arrived and I was already starting to get rather hungry. With my encounter with Waarl already wearing my patience thin plus my empty stomach, I was eager to check on Gabriel and then move on. I had my expectations on what I would see and braced myself for whatever slurs and insults Gabriel shot my way.

I was, however, surprised to find that Ardash was not standing at the lip of the pit taunting Gabriel.

Instead, my former jailer was down in the pit with Gabriel.

Feeding him.

Gabriel's right arm was in a sling and it looked like both his legs were in splints.

"What happened?" I asked.

Ardash looked up at us and then to Throm for confirmation. The chieftain repeated the question in Orkan to which Ardash answered in English.

"Gorgo here decided to try and clumb the wall," Ardash answered. "Dug little handholds into the dirt and tried to use that to climb up. Nearly got to the top before he fell and broke his arm and both legs. Gorgo won't even let the shamans heal him."

"Stop calling me that, you green-faced fuck," Gabriel sneered.

"Shogor Gorgo," Ardash said, holding up a large spoon. "Eat. You need your strength since you won't let yourself get healed."

"I'll be damned if let your demon magic touch me," Gabriel said. He kept his lips shut for a long moment before finally relenting and letting Ardash gently spoon feet him some rice and meat. "And stop calling me a stubborn idiot."

I glanced to Throm who explained that 'Gorgo' meant 'stubborn idiot'. I tried not to laugh but seeing the proud Gabriel being spoon fed by the surprisingly gentle Ardash was a sight to behold. If I had been paying more attention, I would have seen the sparks of something more between them. In retrospect, I was blind not to see it sooner but I think I was still furious at Waarl to have noticed. It was the little things; like when some rice dropped onto Gorgo's chin and Ardash wiped it up or the way Ardash actually blew on the food first before feeding it to him.

"You two have fun then," I said.

"Yeah, yeah," Gorgo grumbled.

Seeing that actually brightened my day a little.

Throm then wanted to hit the Ragnagruul and I was obliged to follow. I was surprised when he invited me to partake in some of the exercises. He made a point of calling by my Orc name and remembering that it was synonymous with masculinity, I realised I couldn't back down to his offer. I didn't do anything overly strenuous like taking on twenty Orcs at one or getting my guts punched by huge Orc fists but I still put up a good effort. I even surprised myself by how much I managed to do.

By the end of it, Throm and I were sweating, tired but our spirits were high.

Usually, that would have been the point where we headed back to the temple for mass but Throm had other ideas. We instead headed back to his house at a brisk jog. Even after my rounds at the Ragnagruul, I still had enough energy to make the long trek back home.

"I will take a bath," he announced. "You rest. I shall prepare our meal tonight afterwards."

I liked those terms and we parted ways at the hallway where he went to bathe and I went into my room to get out of my smelly, sweaty clothes and into something cleaner and lighter. But as I was stripping down, I spied my genitals. This may sound shallow, but I got to thinking about how Throm named me when he saw in the bath and I couldn't help but think that he was admiring me. It then occurred to me that I had never actually seen Throm naked and my curiosity got the better of me.

Still very naked, I snuck down the hallway to the bathroom and pushed the door ever so slightly open. Throm was in the tub, water steaming around him and his big, muscular mass still pumped from the day's work. He had his eyes clothes and his long, dark hair down like an ebony waterfall. Sadly, the tub hid a lot of his form from me and I was feeling... well... I was feeling brave and bold.

Ever so quietly, I snuck into the bathroom beyond his notice and then when I reached the tub, I slowly started sliding in. His eyes immediately snapped open and we locked gazes.

"What are you doing, Burgash?" he demanded. He wasn't furious. More... curious.

"You Orcs don't like to let anything go to waste, right?" I answered. "Let's not waste water and bathe together. There's plenty of room."

He didn't reply but he didn't reject me either. So I slowly sank into the tub with him, his massive legs cradling mine as he sat opposite one another. He let out a soft grunt and settled back into the waters, arms resting on the rims of the tub. With his eyes closed, I dared a peek at his junk. Let it be said that the rumours of Orcs splitting most people open are _not_exaggerated. Flaccid, Throm had a monstrous eight inch uncut cock as thick as a bear can. My throat went completely dry as I watched it slowly filling with blood and growing bigger and bigger before my very eyes.

"Do you like what you see, Burgash?"

My eyes snapped back up to him and I blushed. "You're a very handsome Orc, Throm," I replied softly.

"And you are very handsome too."

"For a human."

"No." Throm shook his head. "I look at you and see a handsome soul. You wish to do the right thing. You were merely misled into thinking and doing something that was not right. But you are willing to learn. Not many men, Orc or human, can say the same."

I laughed softly and averted my gaze, looking out the window. "Yeah... Humans can be fairly stubborn."

"As can Orkans. It took years of war and massive loss of life before we accepted the help of the Conglomerate."

My eyes darted back towards him and my conspiracy senses began flaring up again. "The Conglomerate came to you immediately?"

"Not immediately. After we started encountering resistances from your troops. They tried to call for a ceasefire from our side but we would not listen. Only after we had lost so many were we willing to lay down our arms and listen." His eyes fell sadly. "I cannot help but wonder how many more of my brothers would be alive today were it not for our stubbornness."

I didn't like where this conversation as going and reached for the soap. "Hey, forget about that stuff. It's in the past." He smiled at him as I pressed the bar against his chest. "What do you say we get you cleaned up, big guy?"

Throm only smiled in reply and leaned back, closing his eyes. That was all the permission I needed. I slowly rubbed the soap against his thick, emerald green skin, feeling the firm, powerful muscles barely contained by it. As more and more suds were generated by my gentle motions I became more and more eager to wipe them away and gaze upon his magnificent, god-like body. I had always considered Orkan physiology to be amazing and worthy of praise.

Throm had been right. I had been led down a bad path by hateful people. After having lived amongst the Orkans for a mere three days, I had already grown to appreciate and respect them. Of them all, Throm was the one that I truly admired and getting to touch him so intimately, to feel the gentle heat emanating from his muscles, feel his chest expand with each breath, the little hairs on his pectorals and the impressive curves to his perfectly shaped abdominals... it only heightened my admiration for him.

I grew somewhat hesitant as I dipped moved lower towards his body. I could see his dick was starting to rise and my own had betrayed something deeper, something more primal deep inside of me. While I had experimented in college, I had always considered myself straight. But being with Throm like that... it was undeniable what I wanted. But I wasn't sure if it was what _he_wanted. Yes, he was a 'confirmed bachelor' as he said but was I the kind of person he was willing to fuck?

In my hesitation, I veered the course of my hands away from his lower torso and towards his shoulders. I could sense his disappointment in the soft grunt he gave but he remained silent otherwise. His shoulders were like bowling balls, his biceps watermelons of thick, corded muscle. Just considering the training they all underwent, I was no surprise. I had to lean a little forward so that I could reach the back of his arms. He wasn't moving and I was pretty sure it was actually to coax me to get closer to him.

At that point, I was just playing coy. I knew what he wanted and he knew what I wanted. Every little look we shared confirmed that and both of us were blushing so furiously that I'm sure that we didn't need his magic to heat up the tub. I began to fear that we would never make anything of this little exchange and we would forever be 'bath mates' when I felt something hot, firm and wet touch my own erect cock.

I glanced down, gave a soft 'oh' and noticed the tips of our dicks touching.

I looked to Throm and he looked just as surprised as I did.

Then I lunged at him and planted my lips against his, pushing my tough between his firm, broad lips and exploring his massive, masculine jaw with my tongue. He grunted in surprise but gave no resistance as he curled his enormous arms around me and held me tightly against his chest, cradling me as we both rubbed a firm manhoods against one another.

Eventually, we both had to come up for breath and I was left panting.

"What was that?" he asked.

I blushed and batted my eyes at him. "Sorry... I guess I was a little forward. I just find you really sexy, Throm. Not at all what all the stories said."

"No. What do you call that thing you do where you push your mouth against mine and start tonguing me?"

I blinked in surprise. "Orcs don't know how to kiss?"

"Kiss..." he murmured, rolling the word in his mouth. "No. We have no word for this."

"What do you do show your affection towards one another then?"

"We exchange hugs. Perhaps a punch or a grapple. Then we can always... erm..." Throm coughed in embarrassment. "Folruk..."

"Folruk?"

"Your closest translation is... to fuck," Throm muttered, clearly embarrassed.

"Oh yeah?" I replied, grinning at him. I reached down and squeezed our two dicks together, making him moan, as big as I was, I was nowhere near as huge as him. "Well why don't you folruk me, ra'Khual?"

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Clever but actually, 'folruk' is the act of fucking between a male and a female with the idea of breeding in mind." He wrapped his arms around me, his hands roving down to my ass and giving it a firm squeeze. "And you are no female."

"I hope not," I sniggered. "So how do you say, 'fuck me, my chieftain' in Orkan without sounding like a pansy."

He pulled me close, his lips hovering over my ears. "Fagur ro, ra'Khual."

I smirked at him and give him another kiss. His lips were right there!

Then, I told him, "Fagur ro, ra'Khual."

******

Throm lived up to his name. He was a gentle lover but for a needy guy like me, I wanted him to bring the thunder. We shook the entire house with our love making and when he bellowed in orgasm, I swear it was like sitting at right next to a volcano as it erupted. A volcano of sweet, powerful Orkan cum. Needless to say, he rocked my world. When we woke next, my ass was sore and I couldn't feel my legs. His bed - our bed - was broken as well and the shelf beside it had toppled to the side.

Like I said, he lived up to his name.

We both laughed it off and he used some magic to make sure I could walk. I found out his playful side as well as he refused to do something about my throbbing ass so that I would remember just how much fun we had the previous night. I didn't mind at all. We would have gone at it for a fifth time but it was already morning and we both had work to do.

Throm prepared a bath for both of us while I started on breakfast. We had our meal first and then bathed together. Nothing overly sexual happened, just some cuddling some chatting and a bit of kissing. I learned that Orkan society, partnership between same sexes was allowed. In certain cases, it was even encouraged. There was no concept of marriage so that meant there were no religious ceremonies to bind two people together and no divorce. Better yet, no divorce lawyers. If two people who previously found each other in love drifted apart, they could either part amicably or speak with their chieftain who would make a ruling.

It was such a simple system and one I could get behind. When you think about it, if you strip away all the religious and legal crap in human society, it would just be like the Orkan society.

Deep down, we're all the same.

That said, there was a word for your life partner if you were male and he was male.

'Baru'dall.'

Closest translation is, 'Man of my Heart'.

I liked that.

After our bath, Throm asked me to deliver some papers to Naguk and Zargon. He had missed out on a bit of work the previous day since skipping temple sermons and he wanted to go back and make up for it. While he wasn't overly religious, as chieftain he needed to be seen to respect the gods. I did want to go with him, at least to see Olodagh again but we both agreed that there was a lot of work to do and with little time in the day to do it. We were both rather impatient to get all our duties done so we could spend more time exploring one another's bodies.

"Do you know where to go?" Throm asked me for the third time that morning.

"Yes," I insisted with a laugh. "For the third time, I know where Zargon's house is. It's not too far from here. Just down the street, two rights, a second left and then it's the only single storey house on that road."

Throm grunted. I did love it when he grunted. It caused my body to remember the grunts during sex. I guess now I've been conditioned to associate his grunts with sex. Not that I'm complaining. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Throm swatted my ass as he urged me to hurry out and told me that he'd meet me at the arena in about two hours. Apparently, Waarl was going to fight again. I wondered whether or not my teammate was capable of even lifting a sword after his treatment yesterday but whatever he got, he deserved. I was actually eager to see him humbled again. He might actually learn a lesson.

With that in mind, I headed out of Throm's house, a skip in my step as I hurried to Zargon's home. Along the way, many Orcs greeted me by name.

"Morning to you, Burgash," they said.

"Good day, Burgash."

"Fine day, Burgash."

I liked the way my name sounded in my ears. It was fitting and it reminded me of how Throm choked a little on my cock last night. It was a sign of trust that I would let my dick get blown by someone with huge tusks like him and it was well worth the exchange. Like I said, he was a gentle lover. At least when it came to foreplay.

I recalled that I had another name, my human name, and it slipped my mind. Burgash was my name and I didn't think of myself as anyone else. Still, there was a nagging feeling in my mind that I should remember it if only for posterity and it haunted me as I reached Zargon's house.

I reached Zargon's home within half an hour whereas it would have normally taken me or any human at least an hour to get there. I dismissed it as my preoccupied thoughts given my former name but again, I didn't mind it. I made to knock on Zargon's door but then I heard a loud bang from the rear of the house and found the door open. When another bang met my ears, I feared the worst.

Had Naguk struck Zargon? Were they having a fight? Did Naguk's anti-Orc sentiments start popping up again?

Then I heard Naguk let out a loud, "Fuck yes!"

And it was a cry of ecstasy, something that I had made not too long ago. Some part of me knew that I shouldn't be spying on them but there was also another part that was incredibly aroused by the thought of Naguk fucking Zargon into submission. Perhaps just a little bit of role reversal compared to how Throm and I had played out the previous night.

So, quietly, I snuck into the house. I could smell sex in the air and judging from all the overturned furniture and shredded pieces of clothing, the two had been at it all night just like Throm and I. It was an amusing thought and I congratulated myself in managing to keep our lovemaking in the bedroom.

I found the noises coming from the bedroom and made sure I was as quiet as possible. Though given the loud grunts and wet slapping noises that were coming from the bedroom, they would never have noticed me. I heard wood groan and I guessed that was their bed starting to give out. Again, some part of me said I should leave them to their private matters but my cock was already rock hard and I had gone that far.

Their door was left wide open and I peeked around the corner.

Boy was I in for a surprise.

"You call that fucking, ya prissy shithead!?" Naguk snarled. His legs were propped up on Zargon's shoulders with the big Orc ploughing him with all his might. There was a look of exertion on the Orc's features as he desperately tried to please Naguk.

"I'm trying, Naguk..." moaned Zargon. It was clear he was on the verge of orgasm but seeing that Naguk was far from it, he was desperately trying to hold it in.

"Fuck you're pathetic," Naguk sighed. Suddenly, he grabbed Zargon's broad shoulders and threw him onto the bed. "This is how you fuck!" he shouted. With Zargon beneath him and the Orc's thick cock still in his ass, Naguk pushed himself down onto the erect dick with so much force that the entire bed quivered. Zargon moaned, covering his eyes with a forearm as he desperately tried to keep his load in.

"Don't you fucking dare blow!" Naguk snarled, continuously spearing himself on the Orc's dick. "Fuuuuck! Oooh yeah! There we go! Yeaaaaah!"

I bit my lower lip, massaging my cock through my leather kilt as I watched the scene. Naguk's dick was finally hard and happy, spraying precum all over the Zargon's muscled, sweaty, naked form. When Zargon began begging Naguk to let him cum, his overseer reached down and squeezed on his nipples telling him he was nowhere near ready and to 'hold it the fuck in'.

Then... it happened.

As Naguk continued to spear himself on Zargon, a greenish tinge began to touch his skin. A new sound filled the bedroom on top of their love making. It was a sound like elastic bands stretching mixed with deep, guttural gurgling akin to someone pumping a viscous liquid into a bag. Right before my eyes, thick veins began pushing up all over Naguk's skin. He was a fit man but never that lean. So the veins were definitely a surprise.

Then his short, red hair began growing rapidly, spreading down the back of his head from the short, military cut to a luscious, crimson mane. He arched his back and let out a lusty moan. I could see thick, red hairs growing all over his forearms, thick and bright so that they were impossible to miss. The same hairs began spreading across his chest and as they did so, his pectorals began to plump up, becoming huge, powerful discs that could very well serve as armour. In contrast to this, his skin turned into a deep, forest green while his nipples became large, black circles that topped his powerful chest.

Naguk's arms and legs immediately began exploding with new size and strength. I watched they became enormous barrels of mass attached to his torso by tremendous shoulders that could carry the very weight of the world on them. They were built for the heavy work of the forge, hammering molten metal and hefting huge steel bars all over the city.

I watched as his spine stretched, adding more and more height to his impressive stature. As if unwilling to be left behind, the rest of his body quickly began broadening to match the increase in his height; shoulders broadening, chest thickening and thighs exploding with big, plump muscles.

Naguk threw his head back and let out a tremendous roar, something no human could ever manage. His cock erupted with joy, shooting thick loads of cum all over Zargon's chest. I watched in awe as his six inch, cut human dick turned the same green as the rest of his body, the mushroom-shaped glands becoming a darker green than the rest. His foreskin stretched over the head as cum spewed from it and dribbled down to his growing, jostling balls which were covered in a thick bush of red, almost-fur-like pubic hairs. His dick suddenly surged upwards with a second orgasm, rising to an incredible fourteen inches long and with the head once more emerging from the glands to its full, Orkan length.

With another roar, Naguk shot his second load all over Zargon who was finally allowed to erupt and fill Naguk with his seed. As that nourishing, Orkan cum pumped into Naguk, I watched his human facial features change. His brow became more and more prominent, giving him an almost brutish appearance. His jaw thickened, becoming squarer, thicker. His lower jaw in particular jutted outwards to give him a bit of an under bite. Just as well as his two lower canines suddenly grew, thickening and rising into two massive tusks.

His transformation was not quite done, however.

As Zargon's cum pumped into his rounded, firm ass, his belly began to expand. It watched a wall of firm, washboard abs start to push out as his gut began to inflate with the power of Zargon's seed. No definition was lost in his upper body and his abdominals remained firmly pressed up against his dark green skin but it was supplemented by a layer of fat. As a final touch, his bellybutton popped outwards into an outie.

I heard a loud crack as the two Orcs came down from their orgasms and the manacles around Naguk's wrists - the same manacles I wore - shattered abruptly and fell to the ground.

I was left speechless. I had just watched one of my teammates, a human, turn into an Orc. Ignoring the fact that my cock was still firmly hard, I was terrified.

Then Naguk reached down and seized Zargon's throat. Did he realise what had happened as well? Was he angry? Was he going to hurt Zargon for what he did?

"Who said you could cum?" Naguk snarled.

"But Naguk..." whimpered to Orc.

"You cum when I tell you to cum," Naguk growled. He reached down, a devilish grin on his Orkan features and squeezed down on Zargon's nipple. "Again."

"But Naguk..."

He gave that nipple another powerful squeeze, causing Zargon's cock to twitch in excitement. "Again," he snarled.

At that point, I thought that my teammate was completely gone and in a panic, I dropped the papers in my hands and bolted for the door, throwing all caution into the wind. I know I made a ruckus but I didn't care. I wasn't sure what was happening. I didn't know what had turned Naguk into an Orc but old feelings of disgust and fear began bubbling up to the surface again.

I needed to find Throm. Maybe those two had done something they shouldn't have. Naguk did talk about the Conglomerate. Did they somehow have something to do with Naguk's transformation? I needed to warn him because, in my mind, if the world found out humans could be turned into Orcs, a new war would start and Throm, my Throm, would get caught in the crossfire.

In less than twenty minutes, I managed to make it to the arena. I was panting, out of breath and desperate. I asked passing Orcs where Throm was and I was told he was up in his booth. They asked if I needed help but I wasn't sure who was in on the Conglomerate's plot and who was pure like Throm. So I said I would be fine and hurried up to the booth.

Throm was seated and drinking some water when I noticed that on the arena grounds, Waarl was fighting Toruk. And Waarl was winning. I was captivated by the fight that I never got to speak to Throm. If I had, I wonder how things would have turned out.

We were in the tail end of the fight. Whatever had motivated Waarl, whatever had changed in him, he was fighting Toruk fairly and winning. I would learn later from him that my words had touched him and he had honestly started to take the arena seriously. As weak as he was from his time at the Morrnkatal, he was driven by sheer force of will and Toruk admired that. Toruk was going easy on him and actually wanted to test him, to test how much he truly honoured the arena.

Though they made it look like a very convincing fight, Toruk took a dive and the crowd fell silent as Toruk was thrown to his knees and Waarl stood behind him, a blade at his throat. Everyone, including myself, was silent. Would Waarl kill his warden?Would he stay with his human values? Or would he honour the arena and become one of the Orkan?

Everyone knew that there would be nothing that the guards could do to save Toruk's life at that stage. No shaman would be able to close up a deep neck wound in time before Toruk died of blood loss. Waarl really did have him by the throat.

Then... something miraculous happened.

Waarl tossed aside his blade, stepped away from Toruk and held out his hand to help the Orc up. The crowd cheered and I smiled. Waarl had learned his lesson. But that was not the end of it. No. Far from it.

In learning his lesson, Waarl had trigged the spell contained within the manacles. He suddenly doubled over and let out a grunt. My eyes boggled as his skin began to turn a greenish-grey colour and every muscle on his body bulged. The weakness all over his body made it easy for the spell to take hold and he fell to his hands and knees, shaking violently as his dark, brown hair grew thick but retained its boyish spikes. His ears became large and pointed while his snarl became one that was plastered over an Orc's features.

The crowd continued to cheer, chanting his name over and over again. I noticed that he was starting the hump buck his hips and I realised that he was getting aroused by this. The cheering of the crowd filled him with power, causing his chest and back to erupt with new, lean mass even bigger than Naguk. Toruk realised that his armour was too tight for the new emerging Orc and hastily helped him unbuckle it.

Within moments, he was standing up once more, naked. He threw his head back, tusks flashing in the morning light. With a roar, his massive foot long cock erupted with new Orkan seed, spraying the arena and effectively christening it as his new home. The crowd cheered as the new Orc was welcoming into their ranks.

Toruk seized his wrist and pumped it into the air and they both roared in triumph, grinning broadly. The manacles around his wrists fell off just as they had done with Naguk.

And Throm... Throm was cheering along with them.

I realised that he was in on this and I immediately bolted. Heard me leave and cried out my name - my Orkan name - as I rushed out. I began to realise that these manacles were cursed or there was some spell imparted upon them. The fact that I could no longer remember my human name compounded to my suspicions and I struggled in vain to remember it. I could feel my humanity slipping away.

But I still had enough to know I needed to save the others and do something about this.

I deduced that perhaps Olagdagh might have some insight on what was happening.

I was wrong.

I reached the temple just as Olagdagh was in the middle of a sermon. My eyes widened in terror to find that the man whose very words heralded the death of Orcs, had become one himself; stunning specimen of an Orc unique in that he had blue eyes and golden blonde hair, tumbling down his broad shoulders like a waterfall of liquid gold. He had other initiates of the gods attending him as he held the sermon alongside Kelldan.

Orcs find his unique features rather enrapturing and to this day, many would love to become his Baru'dall. However, service to the gods means that he must remain unattached. That doesn't mean he has to be celibate but he can't breed or stay in a committed relationship. Little sad for a handsome fellow like him but such is the life he chose.

I was terrified though, when I saw him, heard him, speaking in fluent Orkan.

He had become one of them.

I had one hope left.

Gorgo.

The God-fearing, anti-Orc zealot who had been thrown into the pit after he tried to kill the very wardens he had been assigned to. There was no way _he_could have fallen for their charms and their spells, right?

Of course, I was wrong.

I shot out of the temple, shoving past Orcs on the streets who asked me what was wrong using my name - my Orkan name. Hearing it over and over reminded me constantly that I was losing my humanity, that if I couldn't get these manacles off somehow, I would turn into one of them.

Then I reached the pits...

And down there, in the dirt, naked and intertwined, enormous cocks erect and exploring one another's bodies, were Gorgo and Ardash. My jaw dropped open. Of all the people in the world, in our team, I didn't think Gorgo would turn. And yet there he was, gently caressing Ardash's muscular form with his own, thick, green hands covered in dirt. I heard Ardash calling Gorgo a 'dirty boy' and that only made Gorgo's cock twitch all the more in excitement. Likewise, Gorgo insulted Ardash and they both seemed to enjoy the playful exchange.

Gorgo would tell me later that their relationship came from some degree of Stockholm Syndrome. Ardash told him honestly what the manacles were going to do to him and he offered to remove them. Gorgo was puzzled as to why the Orc would do that and Ardash explain that he would prefer to torture a human that he respected than an Orc simply because he might actually grow to like that Orc. That sparked their relationship. Hence why Ardash was down in the pits the previous day feeding him. It helped that Ardash actually spent the night with Gorgo the previous night in the very same pits, his arms wrapped around Gorgo to keep him warm from the elements.

It was a touching romantic story but one I'm sure Gorgo would be able to tell better than I.

In any case, I backed away and in doing so, rammed into Throm's powerful chest. I turned to him, he saw the fear in my eyes and then he let out a soft sigh.

"You know," he said, not a question but a statement.

"What are you doing to us!?" I demanded. "To me!?"

He held me firmly in his hands. There was no way I could escape even if I wanted to. "It was the only way our shamans could think of to help preserve our species. Algorok is shut off to the rest of human society and we are in the middle of enemy territory. None of your human women will come here. We cannot breed. My brothers can still die here. It might be an accident at the forge. A stray blade on the arena. A wild animal goring them. It happens and there is no way we can recover from it. But we _know_about your Ay-Oh-Ay. We know that you will strike at us every now and then especially with the traps we've set up. So our shamans devised a way to make you see that deep down, we are all the same."

"By turning us into Orcs!"

"No!" he protested desperately. "All it would do is make you forget your hatred, your human concepts. Your names. Make you walk in our shoes for a little while and understand that just like you, we are merely trying to survive. The change is the final step in that change. You would become an Orc, understand what it is to be an Orc and live as one for a while so that you may take this knowledge back to your world and help spread the news that we are not the monsters you make us to be. You can still change back."

"I... I can...?" I stammered. He glanced over my shoulder to where Gorgo and Ardash were watching us from down in the pits. "They can...?"

Throm winced. "No..."

"I chose to stay like this, Burgash," Gorgo said suddenly, waving at himself. He smiled and intertwined his thick fingers between Ardash's. "I was wrong. God may have created man but in some way, I'm sure he created the Orkan too. Nothing this beautiful could have been created by anyone less." He nuzzled Ardash affectionately.

"But they worship different gods!" I protested.

"In some ways, Christianity worships three that are one," he countered. "It might just be that they're the same God, just different faces."

I couldn't believe my ears and turned to Throm for an explanation.

"If you choose this life, you will remain an Orc forever," Throm said. "But it always your choice. If the manacles break, then I know you've chosen this life. Otherwise, I can take them off for you and you can go back to being the same human you always were. Your memories will return to you. I just hope that the memories and feelings you made here will stay as well."

I looked to Throm... and knew that he was being honest with me.

But I was torn.

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because you would not have learned the lesson."

"And what lesson is that?"

"That deep down, we are all the same."

*******

"And that's my story," Burgash said, folding his hands in front of him patiently. The suit he wore was tight around his chest and incredibly uncomfortable. It didn't help with his nerves as he sat on the small table he and Throm ate at every meal in their quaint little home. He tried not to fidget but had to run his hand over his thick, curly brown hair a couple of times out of nervousness. After mentally catching himself, he turned the gesture into a little rub of the chinstrap beard he maintained that gave his broad, handsome Orkan features added depth and which his husband always said he loved.

Across from him was that indestructible laptop from the Nexus Conglomerate. On the screen, the shadowy figure of the Director. "That's how I became like this."

"So it was the manacles and your own choices,"_the Director concluded. _"And you chose to stay. Curious."

"The Orcs never wanted to mind control us or anything. It was all our choice. Yes we weren't told about the magic behind it but they offered us the chance to go back should we want. Naguk, Waarl, Olodagh and Gorgo were all made aware of it before I was. That's why Naguk had his... ass... erm... You know. And why Waarl fought so hard... and... Well, we chose to stay."

"And the part about forgetting your names?"

"It was part of the spell," Burgash corrected. "But I remember my name now. Remember who I was. I don't like that person. I identify myself as an Orkan now. So do they. It just seemed fitting that we kept our Orkan names."

"Oh I completely agree. It is rather poetic, in fact. Good for you."

The two were silent for a long time. Burgash was still not at ease with this meeting but he had so many questions.

"You promised," he suddenly said.

"That I did. What did you want to know?"

"Are you behind the AOA?" Burgash gushed.

"Yes."

Rage boiled in the Orc's blood. "Why?"

"For the reason you suspected. I wanted to root out anti-Orc sentiment. Providing a means such as the AOA to recruit and then eventually trap them was the best course of action. I did not want an all out war especially when the governments were still anti-Orc themselves and only held back by us. Think of the AOA as a mirror that I'm holding up to the rest of the world. People look at them and scoff in disgust. They may hold their own opinions of the Orcs but imagine what imagery of homeless, mauled and brutally murdered Orc would do to the human mind.

"Like you've said many times, deep down we are all the same. That goes for sympathy as well. You see thousands of Orcs left without fresh water, people are going to make an effort to help them. That is what the AOA is. They're a trap to find those who hate Orcs and a means to build the relationship between Orc and human."

"You monster," Burgash snarled.

"I've been called worse."

"What do you get out of this!? You're the head of a corporation. You're losing money and wasting resources on this endeavour! Where is the profit!?"

"The profit is not in the money. I don't need money, Burgash. The Conglomerate doesn't need money. If we need materials and funds, we can make it easily enough. You have no idea what our capabilities are. What my capabilities are. But to answer your question, the profit is in the people_."_

"What...?" Burgash whispered in shock.

"On some level, it is finding consumers. Imagine what the world will think of the Conglomerate when they realise that we were the ones helping the Orcs, providing them with technology, supplies and housing? They'll naturally look favourably on us. Even the governments who look enviously on our tech will want more.

"On another, it's the fact the greatest resource in the world are people. Each of you are capable of so much. History is dotted with great thinkers, revolutionists and men and women who have changed the world. Every since person in the world is capable of performing such a change where they just given the right resources, motivation and cause to fight for. Remember that friend I told you about? The one who said there are no gods, just mortals?"

Burgash nodded slowly.

"He likes to view every person's life as a story. Every single one of you is a vast repository of stories, an entire world encased within your very hearts and souls. I don't expect you to understand what that means but think of it this way. If every person has their own world that they can forge, change and shape as they will, then that just means that is another world for the Conglomerate to profit from."

"You're insane."

"Like I said. I've been called worse."_The Director checked his watch, or at least appeared to do so. _"Now, I believe you have one more question for me, Burgash. Shall we make this quick then?"

The Orc growled and straightened. "Were you the ones that sent the Orcs to Earth?"

The answer was immediate. "No."

"Don't you lie to me!" he bellowed. "You promised to be truthful!"

"Firstly, what makes you think that I would have any obligation to hold up my end of the bargain now that I have what I need? Secondly, I am being truthful. We did not send the Orcs to Earth."

"Then who!?"

The Director leaned forward but even then, his features were shrouded in shadow. "I want you to consider this, Burgash. You know that the Orc home world was at least twice the size of Earth. Twice the size of its landmass at the very least. The Orcs were the dominant species just like humans. Before the Orcs arrived, the total population of mankind on Earth was over seven billion. Orcs had all the resources they needed to prosper. With more space, more resources, how big do you think their total population was?"

Burgash frowned. "I don't know. Fourteen billion?"

"Almost sixteen, actually. Orcs come in two genders just like humans. Male and female. Now assuming even the roughest of estimates, that half of that total population is male. That's about eight billion. Again, just being rough here, let's say that only half of that is over the age of eighteen, the maturity age of Orcs. That's four million.

"Now let me ask you this, Burgash, do you think four billion Orcs were transported here from their home world?"

The Orc frowned. If four billion Orcs had appeared on Earth, they would have wiped out humanity with ease. Four billion battle-ready, confused a massive Orcs with magic? That was greater than the armed forces of the entire world even with all their technological advances.

"No..." he whispered. "Just what are you getting at?"

"The Orcs that were transported here were victims of a powerful spell by a conquering Orc warlord. The dictator wanted to get rid of all the men capable of fighting back against his army and the shamans thought to banish them to another world. He wasn't aiming for global domination. Just a few nations. Why do you think only the fit men were taken?"

Burgash' jaw dropped. "It was an act of war...?"

"Indeed. The unfortunate side-effect of the spell was the partial immortality of the Orcs but as you might imagine, that would not have amounted to much if they were slaughtered by the world's inhabitants anyway. It was by sheer luck that they came to Earth where they could mate with human women. Unfortunately, their spawn will always be male, again another side-effect of the spell cast by the shamans."

Burgash slumped in his cushion. "That's... horrible..."

"Perhaps. The Conglomerate was already active on this Earth and the war that broke out hampered our profitability. So we turned it to our advantage. The world would benefit more from an alliance of human and Orcs than an all-out war between two dying species."

"Two dying...?"

"Trust me on this, human progress had become stagnant and with rapid consumption and expansion on their part, it was only a matter of time before mankind brought their own downfall. The arrival of the Orcs actually helped them put things into perspective."_The Director leaned back. _"Well, that is all we have time for now. I trust the answers you have are satisfactory."

"I don't know about that," Burgash rumbled. "But I know I'm not going to get anything else out of you."

"Wise man. Enjoy your new life, Burgash. Should you need anything from the Conglomerate_, you know how to contact us."_

"Right."

Burgash reached over and shut the laptop with a grimace. There were still many questions and feelings swirling about his head but he had his answers. Slowly, he got up off the cushion and took his heavy frame back up the stairs, taking each step slowly as it gave him more time to muse. When he reached the top, he made a left and entered the bedroom.

Throm was lying awake on the sheets, waiting for him.

"How was it?" asked his husband in Orkan.

"Disturbing," Burgash responded in broken Orkan. "I got some answers but they weren't the ones I was looking for." He lay down on the bed and Throm wrapped his arms around him comfortingly, his strength easing away the dark thoughts that weighed down on his heart. Slowly. Throm began peeling off the uncomfortable suit and tie that Burgash had donned for the important meeting, revealing the powerful chest and rippling abdominals contained beneath a thick fuzz of brown hair and green skin.

Throm leaned down and took a long whiff of Burgash's chest, catching his manly odour. Already, the chieftain was starting to get hard and Burgash was the same. Throm's massive, uncut cock was already dripping precum all over Burgash's pressed, clean pants. But the latter didn't care. It was highly unlikely that he would be using these pants again anyway.

"They seldom are." Throm kissed his cheek. He was getting better at kissing. "Is the Conglomerate as evil as we thought?"

Burgash gave that question some thought before shaking his head. "No. They are just... opportunistic."

"I see..." Throm then rolled on top of him so that their pronounced foreheads were pressed against one another, a gentle smile on his handsome face. "What can I do to ease your heart?"

The human-turned-Orc smiled and pressed his lips against Throm's.

When he parted, he said, "Shogor ag fagur ro, ra'Khual."