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dsmiles

Orcs! [d20]

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ORCS!

 

The settlement of Unity lays quiet below you.

 

Asleep.

 

Unsuspecting.

 

The humans who lay there hold a relic, and have no idea that it is the key to saving this world. Instead, the humans just keep moving south, away from the growing ice. They just keep raping the land for its magic, crowding out the Elder Races.

 

That ends now.

 

Your warband moves silently down the hill in the dark. Creeping up to the fence that these humans call a wall is no challenge. There's hardly a sentry to be seen. Even if there was, their torches only shed so much light, and the shadows are your allies.

 

Up and over you go, into Unity.

 

Your noses wrinkle at the stench. The sickly sweet smell of humans. The docile, domestic, weak smell of them disgusts you. It's nothing like the wild, strong, clean smells of an Orc camp. This is smell of an animal caught in a trap, knowing death is coming yet still fearing it.

 

The sounds of animals catch your keen ears. Cows, sheep, pigs, chickens, dogs. All of them have had the wildness taken out of them. They sound diseased, sick with humanity.

 

Most of the windows are dark, a few still have candles or lamps burning in them, but those are easily avoided. The road you want is dark, not even the moon touches it this night. These human settlements are all the same, the road is straight, with no obstacles. It leads right to the back of their church. These humans and their One God. It makes you vomit in your mouth a little just thinking about it.

 

Silently, you open the shuttered window, and slide into the dark opening. One by one, the warband enters the wooden structure. It is dark, even to your eyes, but you can see the star. It's in a glass case on a wooden table...maybe an altar. Removing the glass case is as easy as it looks, and the star goes into a pouch. Out the way you came seems the easiest way.

 

And so you go. Out through the opened window, into the darkened street. Into the waiting arms of a guard patrol. They stand, sneering at you with drawn blades. The cold steel reflects the light of their torches. They cautiously advance, eyes never leaving your hands.

 

They'll kill you if they can.

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