The War of the Unforgiven (original)
Posted: 2003-09-17 04:58pm
Yeah, so... `nother fic by me. Read it, comment on it, make my ego feel better, or just say "It sucks, bitch" and give suggestions on how to make it better.
Chapter 1: The Gates of Loren
Orcs are disturbingly intelligent. Common belief held that they were angry, violent creatures just above the intelligence of goblins, only a few times larger. This was not true. While they were fairly large, this also allowed for a rather large brain-pan to evolve, even with the thicker skull required to protect it from harm. They only keep to the stereotype of violence because, well, the threat of violence when most other spiecies make it to your nipples is very persuasive. Case in point: Thomar Fleshrender.
Towering over humans at nearly nine feet tall, and carrying an axe decorated with 'trophies' of past 'battles,' Thomar has put out a considerable aura of being the battle-hardened violence-lover that humans believe Orcs are. Various furs hang from his belt, covering his legs, but revealing a torso covered in muscle and scars. A shield hangs from his left arm, spiked on the edges just for flaver. Thomar looks at the entrance into the city of Loren, and internally sighs at the sight his keen eyes relay to him.
A human, a rather short one at that, is arguing with one of the city's gaurd at the entrance. Given that he is covered in black robes in the summer sun, he can only assume that th ecity gaurd beleive that he is some sort of cultist carrying evil magiks to curropt their fair city. 'As though it already isn't' muses Thomar to himself. Several other men, presumably with the cloaked one, stand off to the side, arms crossed, chatting amongst each other, ignoring the spectical as though it were an every day occurance. All of them are dressed in the deep black of the compatiot. Thomar stands behind the arguement for a moment, considering how he can make it all that much shorter, before coming to an intresting conclusion.
Thomar walks up to directly behind the cloaked man, and realizes just how short he really is when the top of his hood barely makes it above Thomar's belt. Thomar takes in a deep breath, before bellowing "What meaning of this?!" He had learned some time ago how to fake a good 'Orcish rage.'
The guard steps back, his hand gripping tightly at the handle of his sword, looking at Thomar in surprise. "U-Um... th-this... umm..."
"Out with it." Thomar had lowered his voice, adding a far more gutteral accent to it, keeping it just understandable for the guard, making it seem that he was about to split the gaurds head open for making him wait.
"Well... this person... well... refuses to-to allow for a check of their person incase... umm... they have... err... witchery-related paraphenalia..."
Thomar withholds his laughter, having trained himself not to abotu when he developed his Orcish rage. "Only idiot enter hu-mon city carrying magiks. Let pass, hu-mon."
"Of-of course..." The gaurd lets the humans and the Orc pass.
One of the humans who was with the cloaked figure follows Thomar after he takes a different street from the rest of them. Thomar turns into an alley, and notes that the human is still following him. He stops, and turns to face the human. "What you want?"
"You can drop the act."
Thomar stares at the human for a moment before speaking again. His voice, while still extremely deep, had few traces of the gutteral accent left in it. "Alright. Question still remains, though."
"My boss just wanted to say thanks for the help back there. She wasn't sure if she could get past the gaurd, and didn't want to make a scene."
'She?' throught Thomar, 'cloak didn't help any...' "It would have been easier had she not been wearing the cloak."
"Trust me, it would have been quite a bit harder without the cloak. Name's Zenhara, and the boss is named Xsixsi. Look us up if you ever need any help. We'll see what we can do."
"Thomar Fleshrender... your welcome. Anything I can do to annoy these humans."
"Heh... well, gotta get back. See you around." He turns running out of the alley, and down the street.
Thomar leaves the alley, deep in thought. 'She never told him to leave the group... infact, none of them spoke once they were through the city gates... curious... very curious...' He walks down the streets towards the less-human neighborhood of the city.
Chapter 1: The Gates of Loren
Orcs are disturbingly intelligent. Common belief held that they were angry, violent creatures just above the intelligence of goblins, only a few times larger. This was not true. While they were fairly large, this also allowed for a rather large brain-pan to evolve, even with the thicker skull required to protect it from harm. They only keep to the stereotype of violence because, well, the threat of violence when most other spiecies make it to your nipples is very persuasive. Case in point: Thomar Fleshrender.
Towering over humans at nearly nine feet tall, and carrying an axe decorated with 'trophies' of past 'battles,' Thomar has put out a considerable aura of being the battle-hardened violence-lover that humans believe Orcs are. Various furs hang from his belt, covering his legs, but revealing a torso covered in muscle and scars. A shield hangs from his left arm, spiked on the edges just for flaver. Thomar looks at the entrance into the city of Loren, and internally sighs at the sight his keen eyes relay to him.
A human, a rather short one at that, is arguing with one of the city's gaurd at the entrance. Given that he is covered in black robes in the summer sun, he can only assume that th ecity gaurd beleive that he is some sort of cultist carrying evil magiks to curropt their fair city. 'As though it already isn't' muses Thomar to himself. Several other men, presumably with the cloaked one, stand off to the side, arms crossed, chatting amongst each other, ignoring the spectical as though it were an every day occurance. All of them are dressed in the deep black of the compatiot. Thomar stands behind the arguement for a moment, considering how he can make it all that much shorter, before coming to an intresting conclusion.
Thomar walks up to directly behind the cloaked man, and realizes just how short he really is when the top of his hood barely makes it above Thomar's belt. Thomar takes in a deep breath, before bellowing "What meaning of this?!" He had learned some time ago how to fake a good 'Orcish rage.'
The guard steps back, his hand gripping tightly at the handle of his sword, looking at Thomar in surprise. "U-Um... th-this... umm..."
"Out with it." Thomar had lowered his voice, adding a far more gutteral accent to it, keeping it just understandable for the guard, making it seem that he was about to split the gaurds head open for making him wait.
"Well... this person... well... refuses to-to allow for a check of their person incase... umm... they have... err... witchery-related paraphenalia..."
Thomar withholds his laughter, having trained himself not to abotu when he developed his Orcish rage. "Only idiot enter hu-mon city carrying magiks. Let pass, hu-mon."
"Of-of course..." The gaurd lets the humans and the Orc pass.
One of the humans who was with the cloaked figure follows Thomar after he takes a different street from the rest of them. Thomar turns into an alley, and notes that the human is still following him. He stops, and turns to face the human. "What you want?"
"You can drop the act."
Thomar stares at the human for a moment before speaking again. His voice, while still extremely deep, had few traces of the gutteral accent left in it. "Alright. Question still remains, though."
"My boss just wanted to say thanks for the help back there. She wasn't sure if she could get past the gaurd, and didn't want to make a scene."
'She?' throught Thomar, 'cloak didn't help any...' "It would have been easier had she not been wearing the cloak."
"Trust me, it would have been quite a bit harder without the cloak. Name's Zenhara, and the boss is named Xsixsi. Look us up if you ever need any help. We'll see what we can do."
"Thomar Fleshrender... your welcome. Anything I can do to annoy these humans."
"Heh... well, gotta get back. See you around." He turns running out of the alley, and down the street.
Thomar leaves the alley, deep in thought. 'She never told him to leave the group... infact, none of them spoke once they were through the city gates... curious... very curious...' He walks down the streets towards the less-human neighborhood of the city.