Disclaimer: I don't own dwarves or elves or humans or orcs or trolls or
grunts peons or warcraft 1, 2, or 3 or axes or demo squads. you get the
point. I own Tael Doombolt, though.
Tael Doombolt was stewing in anger and violence. HE thirsted for the blood of dwaves. The alliance of humans, however, didn't procure much dwarf meat. It was always 'their bombs bursted, destroying the bodies of the demo squad', or 'the body lies, unrecoverable, at the bottom of the sea' And axe throwers were so inaccurate, the explorer planes always exploded. Damnit.
But, now, he had an answer. Many of his grunts and ogres and trolls would die. But it would be worth it. 'Sir, um.' 'Wadda wan', you damn lazy (orcish insult)' ' Your army has returned-' 'AT LAST!!!! DWARF!!!' No, um.' 'THEY FAILED!?!?!?!' 'well, not exact-' He was beheaded before he could finish. 'Guards! Eat this foul (another orcish insult) before he taints the air!'
Tael Doombolt's double headed axes were not yet feared amongst the human ranks, as his army had killed all they saw, and all that saw them. He was, however, greatly feared amongst his own. To face him was to die, to defy was worse. Even the generals, and orcish tyrant feared him face to face. When he was there, they wouldn't contradict him. They would, however, send defiant messages with peons (who usually got eaten) When he came to these people again, they would fear his revenge for it. Now, as he walked down the line of his army, in a deep cold, with his army shivering, and not just because of the cold, he reveled. He could be and do whatever he wanted. The horde of the orcs was at his feet, at his service. His gait was slow, purposeful, angry. Sudenenly, he turned on his army and began slaying ogres, trolls, and orcs left and right. Havoc ensued, as it did every time. If they fought back, they would be killed. If they ran, it would be far worse. But standing still didn't do any good. The guard towers had no orders, but they had become used to this. They fired on any runners, but shot to disable. If the shooters killed a soldier, it was their head.
Minutes later, bodies lying everywhere, a blood mist and blood soaked ground stood still for a moment in time. Tael stood alone, barely having broken a sweat. The occasional fresh axe mark spattered his body. Not much of his own blood had spilled, but blood was in the air, enveloping everything. Tael himself had little on him. Rivers of blood ran down scars on his jaw, flowing like a river from his mouth. Both edges of each heavy war axe were drenched, and his claws themselves had orc flesh and blood stuck under the nails. More than half had survived his wrath, but more would die. Any who had moved from their rank were now ordered to be killed. The encampent was filled with bodies. You could walk from one end of the field to the other without touching the ground, now. These slaughters never reached general attention, and soon his ranks would swell with offspring who wanted to be feared and great. Tael was looked up to by all orc youths.
Just now, a messenger peon arrived. 'Tael Doombolt??' 'What!?!' 'You are ordered to make a second assault on the dwarven mountain at dawn.' 'I need reinforcements. Heavy casualties.' 'Yes, sir'
will be updated if I get enough reviews. SO REVEIW
Tael Doombolt was stewing in anger and violence. HE thirsted for the blood of dwaves. The alliance of humans, however, didn't procure much dwarf meat. It was always 'their bombs bursted, destroying the bodies of the demo squad', or 'the body lies, unrecoverable, at the bottom of the sea' And axe throwers were so inaccurate, the explorer planes always exploded. Damnit.
But, now, he had an answer. Many of his grunts and ogres and trolls would die. But it would be worth it. 'Sir, um.' 'Wadda wan', you damn lazy (orcish insult)' ' Your army has returned-' 'AT LAST!!!! DWARF!!!' No, um.' 'THEY FAILED!?!?!?!' 'well, not exact-' He was beheaded before he could finish. 'Guards! Eat this foul (another orcish insult) before he taints the air!'
Tael Doombolt's double headed axes were not yet feared amongst the human ranks, as his army had killed all they saw, and all that saw them. He was, however, greatly feared amongst his own. To face him was to die, to defy was worse. Even the generals, and orcish tyrant feared him face to face. When he was there, they wouldn't contradict him. They would, however, send defiant messages with peons (who usually got eaten) When he came to these people again, they would fear his revenge for it. Now, as he walked down the line of his army, in a deep cold, with his army shivering, and not just because of the cold, he reveled. He could be and do whatever he wanted. The horde of the orcs was at his feet, at his service. His gait was slow, purposeful, angry. Sudenenly, he turned on his army and began slaying ogres, trolls, and orcs left and right. Havoc ensued, as it did every time. If they fought back, they would be killed. If they ran, it would be far worse. But standing still didn't do any good. The guard towers had no orders, but they had become used to this. They fired on any runners, but shot to disable. If the shooters killed a soldier, it was their head.
Minutes later, bodies lying everywhere, a blood mist and blood soaked ground stood still for a moment in time. Tael stood alone, barely having broken a sweat. The occasional fresh axe mark spattered his body. Not much of his own blood had spilled, but blood was in the air, enveloping everything. Tael himself had little on him. Rivers of blood ran down scars on his jaw, flowing like a river from his mouth. Both edges of each heavy war axe were drenched, and his claws themselves had orc flesh and blood stuck under the nails. More than half had survived his wrath, but more would die. Any who had moved from their rank were now ordered to be killed. The encampent was filled with bodies. You could walk from one end of the field to the other without touching the ground, now. These slaughters never reached general attention, and soon his ranks would swell with offspring who wanted to be feared and great. Tael was looked up to by all orc youths.
Just now, a messenger peon arrived. 'Tael Doombolt??' 'What!?!' 'You are ordered to make a second assault on the dwarven mountain at dawn.' 'I need reinforcements. Heavy casualties.' 'Yes, sir'
will be updated if I get enough reviews. SO REVEIW