The Orc [Fan-Fic] (Chapter 2)

[Grimward]

Here is a new tale that I had been bouncing into my head for the past several days. I lightly explored for some Wesnoth

history on the origins of the orc and found nothing. So I have weaved this tale in my head to explain not how they were created but how they became fierce warmongers. I base my tale on my simple conception of the mythic creature and attempt to give my version of its existence in the Wesnoth Universe. I also write this story to expand my skills, and I hope to receive some critique on my work. I invite everyone to be as harsh as they so wish it.

I must warn, I expect this tale to be laced with a fair amount of violence and probable gore. So I hope to put any potential

reader on garde that I will avoid overly explicit gore, but that some will ultimately exist. I would find it a tragedy to exclude gore and violence from a tale centered on the brutish ways of the orcs.

Here is the prelude, to scope out the interest in the topic. The story has yet to begin, this is merely some foundation for

my story to begin. I am attempting to differentiate this style of writing from my other tale, I hope to achieve a more impersonal and distant tone. Critique, as mentioned, is more than welcome.


--The Orc: Prelude --

There was a time long before the orcs became known as the brutish hordes of the north. A time long before the orc

was a feared machine of utter destruction and carnage. A time long before man, elf, dwarf or any of the civilized races even spared a thought, much less a slight notion of the orcs. In fact, there was also a time where the orc was considered to be a no greater threat than an animal. A time were the orc was not avoided, but hunted. There was even a time where the orcs were slaved and taken as game by the very races they later subjugated. Nigh impossible to comprehend today, there was a time where the orc was nothing. This is because, there was a time when the orcs had yet to unify.

The tale begins in the northern most regions of the land, in a continent to the far western reaches from the beloved Wesnoth. In the frozen peaks of the northern mountains, to the

dense forest at their base and even extending to the plains that divide these lands from the beginnings of civilised men. In these northern parts the orcs would roam, as solitary creatures. Always alone, with the temperament of a rapid wolf that had been ostracised from its pack. There was something, or perhaps more accurately the lack of something, that made it socially impossible for orcs to band together. Inside every orc burned a desire for power, for superiority, for dominance and for control. With such intensity did these desires burn that they could not be discarded or belittled. The exception occurred, by natures doing, when two orcs would couple. On the rare occurrences that this happened, and that a partner did not dismember or destroy the other, a new orc would join the living. The lonesome struggle began there at birth, where the child would begin his lonesome journey into the world. Orcs held un unbearable disaffection for motherhood, as the luckiest of infants would be blessed with a mother for a mere week.

One such child, Vidarok, was born into the world, in the treacherous forests that blanketed the base of the northern

peaks. Abandoned after four days of motherhood the child began his struggle. Luck saw Vidarok avoid the claws of death a generous handful of times. Perhaps, in retrospect, if the child had died at birth then the orcs would never have grown to plague the other races. Perhaps if that infant orc had been robbed of breath the orcs would have never risen to become the feared horde of the north. This child, Vidarok, can bee seen as the pivoting factor that lead to orcish society. The raw instrument that shaped the orcs in the destructive glory they now possess today. This is the tale of the orcs, of how they rose from nothingness.

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[A-Red]

One historical problem, according to the Rise of Wesnoth plot/backstory: the orcs didn't rise in the north, and there weren't any elves or dwarves anywhere near them to be giving them thoughts or not. The orcs came to power on a continent in the distant west, where they had some kind of war with the Wesfolk. The Lich-lords who formerly ruled the Wesfolk then summoned the orcs to fight against the humans of the Green Isle (between the orc continent and the Wesnoth continent), and then they followed the fleeing humans to the continent where most of mainline takes place.

All this is to say that they were warlike long before they came into contact with any of the races depicted in mainline (unless you count the Wesfolk, perhaps), and did so on territory we've never been shown in any campaign so far.

(but the writing is good).

[Grimward]

Ahah, where can I find this back story? I searched a bit to find some, but I admit I could have searched some more. I was aiming to recount the very beginnings of the orcs, so my slight miscalculation of the continent might be a mistake that is fixable, if not embarrassing. I still think that the bulk of my tale can proceed unchanged, for the major plot elements I have planned seem to coincide with what you have told me.

I thank you greatly for the comment, it is very useful. I would ask where to find the back-story hat you speak of, I searched the forums and the 'help' section of Wesnoth earlier, but did not find much. I would be grateful for the help.

[Icarusvogel]

I would advise to give an orc another name than Urukai. It just doesn't seem... creative, if you know what I mean.
And there was a small expression flaw:
"the orc was considered no greater a threat than an animal"
Is is just me, or does "the orc was considered to be no greater threat..."
sound better?

[Grimward]

Yes, I’ll admit the wording of that sentence does sound better with your suggestion. I changed the wording to almost mirror your suggestion.

As for the name, I am aware that it can be seen was a very common name but that was partly my intent. My train of thought is that the name of an orc who has been so memorable in the formation of his people’s culture then his name would be taken by further generations to come. Therefore the name could be seen as unoriginal to the common day orcs. If however, you mean that it is unoriginal not in its over usage or similarity, but instead because it is simply a horrid name, then I’ll give thought to reconsider a name. I do however, find this name quite fitting, yet I have very seldom dabbled with orcish names.

[A-Red]

As for the name, I am aware that it can be seen was a very common name but that was partly my intent. My train of thought is that the name of an orc who has been so memorable in the formation of his people’s culture then his name would be taken by further generations to come. Therefore the name could be seen as unoriginal to the common day orcs. If however, you mean that it is unoriginal not in its over usage or similarity, but instead because it is simply a horrid name, then I’ll give thought to reconsider a name. I do however, find this name quite fitting, yet I have very seldom dabbled with orcish names.

I think Icarusvogel meant that it sounds a lot like Uruk-Hai, the orc subspecies from LotR, which was my first reaction too.

All the info I gave is from the mainline campaign, The Rise of Wesnoth. Some of it is also found here.

[Grimward]

Wow, I have never really been a LotR kind of guy, but now that you bring this to light I see exactly what you two mean. I guess my subconscious must have fished that name out, as to me it sounded like a perfect general orc name. The name will be changed, thank you.

Also, many thanks for the link of the Wesnoth history, that is exactly what I was searching for. My tale surrounds the times of, in coherence with the timeline you provided, around 300 BW to up until the early YW years. My fan based fictional tale plans to explain the origins of how the orcs evolved into their warlike ways and how they came to plague the lands of Wesnoth. In relation to this, the bulk of the beginning is told from a land outside the Green Isle and the Great continent. My story will, of course, extend to when they overrun of the green isle and then when the orcs move against Wesnoth itself.

History and name apart, does my tale hold an honest interest? Or is the whole concept too stretched thin and irrelevant? Anyways, I thank you both, again, for the generous and helpful feedback.

(The actual tale will begin once I have ironed out all my little Incoherencies.)

[Icarusvogel]

It does hold my interest. I just hope you do not overdo the violence, make the story tasteless, and lose readers...

[Grimward]

Glad to see you are interested by the concept. Even one reader is enough to justify my joy of writing. I urge you not to shy away to tell me what you think of it. If you think its horrible and lousy written then by all means be blunt. I would much rather be told what I need to improve and improve upon it, then to simply stay horrible and unread.

I do not mean to add useless gore just for the heck of it, yet I expect it understood that a story about how the Orc began warlike is bound to have its fair share of fighting, death and dismemberment. My beginning warning is simple to let people know that if I will not attempt to make the orc seem like a kind fighter, I expect to portray them as brutish and merciless machines of war.

--Chapter One: Predator and Prey--

A simple word to describe the infancy of an orc would be ‘harsh’. Perhaps a slight understatement, but surely

one of the most accurate single worded portraits. Vidarok was no exception. Since his early years he learned to hunt, to find drink, to hide from pack animals and hunters and, of course, to hate. An orc rarely feels direct jealousy, instead it is transmuted into pure rage filled hate. When an orc yearns for a quality or object he sees another posses, he does not envy that other, but learns to despise him. Vidarok, in his youth learned to despise many things. In spite of this, his one and foremost hate, common among all orcs of the forest, was the burning loathing of the Goblins.

Now the dispute among scholars is widespread about Goblins. Some fanatics will argue that Goblins are a

subspecies of the orcs, originally created by impure orc-to-other intimacies, however others will just as vehemently argue against it. Despite the Goblins inexplicable origins, the fact of the wild remained adamant that, orcs and Goblins did not co-inhabit. In fact, the most dangerous predator of the orcs was, ironically enough, the Goblins. There is a certain mechanism, perhaps their individual weaknesses and lack of shame, that makes cooperation natural. The desire for superiority among them is, unlike the orcs, almost completely lacking, A Goblin would declare himself chieftain as soon as he could rally two others with him, the small pact would then begin recruiting any Goblins that were weaker or less in numbers then they. As one could imagine, the Goblin kingdoms grew and unified swiftly and they became the dominate species of the northern forests, by sheer number alone.

A roar of rage echoed in the forest, startling the calm birds that had perched themselves on the trees above.

Vidarok, hearing the nearby sound, sprung his head up in curiosity. Before his thoughts could argue against investigation, his legs had already began their path. The short trajectory brought him to the outskirts of a clearing, his body hidden among the foliage of the dense forest. A keen scholar could link the introduction of orcish assassins as one of their most primitive arts. Inside the clearing an orc, alien to Vidarok, let loose another howl of rage fuelled defiance as his left arm, melded of solid muscle, batted away a Goblin. Yet in the opening that his outstretched arm offered two more Goblin assailants jumped to assault him. His right arm snatched one, and sent his tiny corpse smashing hard into the ground, yet before his left arm could recover the second midget hunter buried a small wooden stake in the orc’s chest. The orc gave a small grunt of pain, as he then brought both arms to wrap around his would-be killer with the subtle cracking of the Goblin’s spinal cord

Vidarok growled with pleasure seeing the Goblin’s fate, yet made no attempt to aid. Survival had taught the orc

that even if he did assist in the annihilation of the small Goblin party, another was a mere yelp away. Even in the eventuality that they did defeat the Goblins the next fight would be between him and the opposing Orc for the territory. Vidarok remained motionless, but watched on nonetheless. The Goblins were far from exhausted.

Seeing two of their brethren knocked away like mere puppets and a third perish gave the warped little creatures no pause.

A small menacing circle began to form around the orc as a noose beginning to tighten around a neck. The fact that the orc comprehended that he was surrounded and vastly outnumbered did not seem to affect the him. Despair did not consume him like it might a human warrior when surrounded by insurmountable odds, in fact the orc seemed strengthened by it, the ecstasy of combat flowing through his veins. As if the amount of hatred created by his disgust of the Goblins was so great that it overshadowed his instincts of survival. The following fight was brief. This is not to say the orc did not fight valiantly, quite the opposite, he managed to take a half dozen vile ones into the afterlife with him. However the problem remained that even a handful of Goblin deaths was nothing more than taking a bucket of water out of an ocean. Vidarok watched his kin fall without sympathy; he had fought and he had lost. The Goblins, in jubilation of their victory, jumped the corpse with high-pitched screeches of victory. Vidarok having become bored of the scene, backed away to leave, a branch snapped under the weight of his step.

In an instant every Goblin-made noise vanished, as twenty tiny ugly faces turned towards Vidarok. His muscled legs

thundered into action and the orc was thrown into a frenzied run. He had seen what fighting the vile trash lead to and his survival instinct was far greater than the corpse in the clearing. Although the Goblins, as the if their current conquered prey had completely vanished, scurried after the new target with a hellish glee of joy sparkling in their eyes, they were simply no match. As fast as their tiny nimble legs would take them the muscled bipedal machine of the orc outclassed the Goblins by leagues. The simple reality that Goblins were unable to catch an orc that decided to flee had kept the orcish population relatively safe, only those angered or careless enough were trapped and killed. However, unknown to Goblins and orcs alike was the fact that this advantage was about to change.

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[A-Red]

Definitely an interesting story idea. I don't have a chance to read it thoroughly yet, but at a glance...you may want to double-check the race descriptions for goblins and orcs in game. I believe that goblins and orcs are actually born in the same litters, which makes them completely inextricable from each other--goblins are literally just the weakest of the orcs born at any given time. It's probably concievable for bands of goblins to break free and form their own territories (actually, elvish_sovereign is making a campaign about exactly that), but it's hard to imagine them being able to prey on the orcs, given their origins.

I'll give it a more careful reading tomorrow.

[Grimward]

I haven’t found any solid origins of the Goblins, I’ve searched the help sections of the game with no avail. I have not, however, completed all of the campaigns. I have left the exact origins of the goblins slightly hazy. In my depiction of the orcish origins, the Goblins live as a different culture. My reasons for their superiority are explained in text, the predominate points being sheer numbers and social interaction.

I understand that there might be a slight deviance from the factual ingame origin of the goblins, but this is an aspect I cannot change because it is a crucial point story wise. I am aware that you only pointed that out to help and I understand that you are completely correct, but for the sake of my tale the slight difference must be endured. I would relate the error to common-day discrepancies in theories, there are sometimes several historical explanations for one issue. It merely depends on which one is believed widespread. In this effect, I would relate to my version being a theory that is not mainstream. However, many thanks for taking the time to assist me, I honestly appreciate it.

[A-Red]

From the Goblin Spearman's manual text:

"In any litter of orcs, several are born much smaller and weaker than the rest. These runts are called 'Goblins' and are looked down on by the rest of their kin."

So as I said, they're literally from the same wombs. I think a division like you're talking about is still entirely conceivable and you've handled it very well, but the above information is something you should definitely be aware of and integrate into your story as necessary.

[Grimward]

Yes, I’ve finally found the entire page on race history. You can expect, by the time that the orcs reach the green isle and then the great continent, that close to every fact offered by Wesnoth about the orcs (and surrounding races) will have been explained and included. Again, I thank you for opening my eyes to the discrepancies and to helping me hunt down the differences. I will begin on chapter two shortly.

[Icarusvogel]

So "Urukai" is now Vidarok?
The "gory stuff" seems all right so far.
Well-written chapter 1!

[Grimward]

Thank you, a very pleasing response Yes, Urukai has been replaced by Vidarok. I hope you enjoy the second chapter.

--Chapter Two: The Heart of a Fight--

Bright rays of light pierced through the forest’s treetops, creating scattered puddles of bright sunlight on the ground. The forest was ripe with life. The birds sung a melody to honour the shining sun, squirrels scurried around their network of branches, deer treaded discreetly across the forest hoping to avoid hunters and a lone wolf attempted to better the timid deer. As a branch cracked in the forest, near the wolf, it’s ears jolted up in alert. He began a low growl in the direction of the sound, if it was a prey he would hear it’s panicked attempt to escape, on the other hand if it was a predator he would have time to escape. It was at that precise moment, the very beginning of the growl, that a huge muscled humanoid shape lunged at the wolf from the bushes beyond. The wolf, being the swift creature that it is, evaded the initial lunge. Sparring little time to allow his oppressor a second attempt the beast darted off.

Vidarok gave a displeased grunt, he rarely missed his mark. Ignoring his failed lunge, he hastily began trailing his escaped meal. The animal gave him a long vexatious chase through the forest. Vidarok tracked the wolf across hefty expanses of forest, sometimes temporarily losing the beast’s scent, other times missing his meal by a couple inches. However the wolf was ultimately outmatched, it may have possessed the edge in speed but the orc had outlasted it by raw endurance, if only slightly helped with his skills at tracking. Vidarok now towered victoriously above his trophy’s corpse, saliva chanting for the meal to come. However, nearby alien shouts and noises perverted the forest. Grabbing his meal the orc stealthily set off to satisfy his curiosity.

Safely hidden behind a clutter of trees, Vidarok witness a defilement of his forest. One of his kin fought fiercely beyond him, heavily outmatched and out-armed, but savagely holding his own nonetheless. This scene would have been of little surprise, for orcs often fought outnumbered against goblins and some animals, however the creatures that fought against his brethren now were of the most abnormal type Vidarok had ever witnessed. The smoothed skinned intruders surrounded the orc, their eyes sharp and calculating. When the orc would advance to engage one of the creatures, it would fall back and the others would tighten around him. It was insulting, the orc looked surprisingly cunning and had long realised this humiliation. The orc bellowed in rage, unable to use any of his strength on his cowardly opponents. The smooth-skins, armed with what Vidarok could only describe as shining stone, taunted their target, backing off then coming closer. When it seemed as if they could come no closer while staying out of arm-range, they finally took the offensive.

There were perhaps six of the strange hunters weaselling around the orc, with an additional three times that number further back, watching. The half-dozen smooth-skins all acted at once with flawless coordination, the action had no-doubt been exercised a dozen times and practiced a hundred times over. First came the nets. Three of the men pulled heavy hemp nets that they had been carrying and thrust them viciously at the orc. Next came the strike, before the orc could react to the heavy rope that smothered him, all six assailants were upon him. Two tackled low at the legs while the others threw themselves upon the helpless brute’s upper body. He collapsed faster then a felled tree. The final step was all a giant blur. The smooth-skinned atrocities fumbled around, rope was twirled around and knotted, tightened and re-knotted, looped around his limbs and then final knots were made. The end result disgraced the orc beyond reason, captured and restrained by the weak cowards.

Vidarok watched on with anger boiling. A fight, he thought, was an honourable display of strength and power. Yet this was atrocious. Orcs have always held a disfavour towards each other, often resulting in brawls. However these encounters have always had a competitive nature at heart, while this…this gutless encounter, spurred nothing more than disgust in Vidarok. A depth of anger previously unknown burnt in Vidarok, overshadowing even his loathing of the Goblins. The seed of racial pride. As strong as this rage burned survival still contained it. Death served no purpose, survival would see his anger satiated. Under Vidarok’s vehement gaze the smooth-skinned creatures departed, dragging their prize behind them.

It took a short while for Vidarok’s anger to quell, and as it died down his hunger rose back up. He turned to his meal, his stomach growling for satisfaction. Though he soon realised that he was no longer alone. Twenty odd paces from him stood another orc, his body bulging of muscle and his eyes locked on Vidarok‘s wolf. Both orcs offered a low growl, warning the other that they were ready to fight for the prize. The other orc stepped forward. The challenge was issued. Honour would not allow Vidarok to relent his meal, even if the other seemed rather bulkier. He dropped the wolf’s carcass and roared back his response, then charged.

Both orcs met with thunderous force, their arms viciously grappled each other. Pure hatred fuelled them as the rage of battle took over. It was intoxicating. They wrestled for control, clutching each other near the shoulders is a savage huddle. They could smell each others rancid breath and hear the other’s every grunt of effort. Vidarok tried to throw his challenger to the ground, his arms exerting every inch of power they contained. Yet it wasn’t enough. The other had steadily endured Vidarok’s storm of strength, and now began his. Vidarok could feel the pressure from the other orc’s arms as his foe began to pour his strength into them. Then, in a sudden burst of raw power, Vidarok was ferociously thrown to the ground with no more dignity then a discarded toy. It was at that moment that he realised that this was one fight he was certainly not going to win.
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