"Gorbag part 1" by Erik Jensen

Darenya was a huntress. Ever since the destruction of her village when she was young, she had hunted orcs wherever she found them. She had managed to completely decimate the tribe that had massacred her sisters and brother and killed her mother and father.

She had no patience for the people who had warned the elves not to settle so close to orcish territory. It was a forest, the traditional elven home. It was given to them by Marlin, and no stinking orcs should keep elves from settling there.

She had found little help among the elves. Most were content with the state of things. Only the truly thankful to Marlin, those who settled near the orcs, were attacked. Only when an orcish tribe settled too close to existing elven tribes or cities did the elves chase them out. The only people actively fighting the orcs were the humans, and Darenya had made a good living as a mercenary.

She was travelling in search of new prey when she came across a small human village. The humans warned her not to enter the forest, since evil creatures lurked there. Darenya knew from the size that there may be one or two dangerous beasts in there at best. She decided to help the humans. She pitied them for their short lives, and she respected them for not fearing to settle so close to enemy territory. If she could defeat whatever was in the forest, she would feel better when she left. It was probably not an orc, since forests are not much of a place for an orc. Orcs thrive in mountains and below ground.

She entered the forest by day, silently searching for signs of life. She was soon rewarded with success. She found the tracks of an orc. There was no doubt: the iron boots, the placing of feet, it all matched. But this was a very large orc. She judged his weight to be at least one quarter over standard. The size indicated a black orc, but that was quite unlikely since there were no signs of normal orcs around. Black orcs always dominated orc tribes or clans. If one found himself alone, he travelled until he found a new tribe to dominate. Darenya was intrigued.

She took a small metal vial from her belt and opened it. She poured some of the greyish liquid into her hand and smeared it on her neck, hands and lower arms. The liquid was made by the wild elves, and it disguised her smell. It was not perfect, but only very alert orcs would pick her scent up when she used this. She replaced the stopper and carefully put the vial back in her belt before she followed the tracks in complete silence.

Apparently the orc made some sort of rounds. The tracks soon became a path. The path led past a small spring to a clearing somewhere near the centre of the forest. The clearing contained what could only be the lair. It was not very orcish in appearance, though. Everything was too orderly. There was chopped wood, which made Darenya conclude that there was a smithy somewhere. There was a fireplace, placed so as to minimize the risk of fire. There was a barrel for collecting rain water, combined with an actual gutter system. The roof was made from metal plates, which surprised Darenya. The house was apparently some sort of storage.

She looked around for weapons, but found only an archery target. If the holes in it was any indication, the orc was a pretty good shot. It made her a bit uneasy. An orc practising archery and living an orderly and disciplined life in a forest was probably a very well-rounded opponent. Suddenly her eyes fell on something odd: on the edge of the clearing was a birdtable of all things! The birds were happily picking away at an assortment of seeds. Was the orc actually gathering seeds to feed the birds? No, that couldn't be, there had to be some other explanation.

By then, she heard the approach of a running orc. There was no doubt; it was the rhythmic, hammering sound of iron boots on the ground. She pulled back a little to be sure she wasn't spotted. Although orcs relied primarily on their sense of smell their other senses were also quite keen, and black orcs were known for their ability to sense enemies trying to hide.

The orc that came running was quite a sight. He was a black orc, and a big one at that. He ran with the grinding pace and supernatural stamina of the orc, and he was wearing a heavy chain mail. He was bald and quite thick. His green eyeballs lay well protected deep in the skull, and his maw was gaping open as is the custom of running orcs. He had a long, red tongue and powerful jaws and teeth.

As soon as he arrived in the clearing he pulled two large daggers from his belt. Darenya thought she had been detected, and almost drew her sword, but she soon realized the orc was practising. He moved with a predator's speed and grace. Judging from his moves he was fighting three enemies at once. He feinted and dashed and spun, and at one point he apparently got the chance to crush an enemy's foot with his iron boot. She saw the first enemy die as the orc stabbed the invisible man and made a lightning quick turning of his blade in the wound. The second man to go was the one with a crushed foot. The orc parried an attack from each enemy and made contact hip and shoulder with the wounded man, throwing him to the ground. The orc then threw his dagger to where the man's throat would be. He then turned on the last man. The traditional orcish fighting stance now came in use: feet wide apart, knees slightly bent, arms out to the sides and the maw gaping open. The orc then thrust himself forward, apparently grabbing the enemy's weapon arm. She saw the enemy being pulled close swiftly, and the jaws snapping shut on the man's throat, while the claws crushed the weapon arm, and the dagger was driven into the enemy's midriff.

The orc then got the dagger he had thrown and carefully wiped it clean with a red piece of cloth. He seemed to have come out of his killing state immediately. He put the daggers back in place and drew a large two-headed battleaxe and started the exact same fight over again, this time dispatching his enemies far quicker. She realized the enormous strength of the orc, as he used the axe in swings so swift she was not sure she would be able to dodge were she the target. Even the swings that didn't hit the imaginary opponents caused them to be thrown off balance, making them easy targets for the next swing or a push.

She had never seen a black orc of such skill, although she knew they were out there. She knew that the most powerful black orc clan leaders were killing machines that had slain dragons intruding on their territory. She once heard of an elven fortification that repelled three orcish attacks in a row without taking so much as one casualty. The night after the last attack a black orc entered the fortification head on and killed half of the elves before they withdrew into the forest. But she always thought these rare and powerful warriors were rulers and kings among orcs, not strange hermits scaring small villages. She forced herself not to compare this orc with the warrior hermits of elves and humans. He was an orc, and thus he was a monster.