His face was so close to the grass, that he could almost smell the dew that slowly settled on the ground around him. Both hands were dug into the mud and struggled to hold the weight of his large Orc body, that silently screamed to lay down in a fatigue defeat. But pride, rage and adrenalin stopped him from collapsing onto the semi wet grass and mud. Time had seemed to stop as he took a deep breath. Slowly in and out. The chest hurt under the thick armor for each gap of air that was inhaled. Or'gul clenched his hand around the axes muddy shaft and looked at his shield, which was laying only few meters away. He could hear the Ogre struggling to keep a clear mind, he did get a few good swing at it before he got punched to the ground.
The Ogre started to move, in a slow but determined pace towards the iron handled club that he had dropped not so long ago, before Or'guls axe had cut some of the fingers, on its hand.
There was no more time to rest, he pushed himself up in a sitting position and firmly closed his hand around the axe. Then he leaped forward to his shield and with the other hand picked it up. The Ogre had reached the club and swung it from side to side a few times. The twilight had settled and was so quiet, that not even a wind could be felt. The tranquility was broken, as the Ogre, now back in its clear mind and also feeling the wounds, let out a loud roar and stormed towards him. Or'gul put one leg firmly into the soil and raised the shield, so it hid half of his face. He observed every move the Ogre took, as it came towards him, its every step and every movement. The club got raised high in the air, as he tighten the grip of the shield, if he lost it again, he would be beaten to death, so there were no room for error this time. He already underestimated the Ogre once and that would not happen again.
Even though, he was prepared for the impact from the club on his shield, the pure force of the blow, still came down on him with more power than he had foreseen, like a boulder from a mountain top and he almost lost it a second time. With pure luck, the shield bend down over his back and some of his head and equaled the balance to a point where the hand didn't bend the wrong way and the club slide down behind him, leaving the ogre in an open and undefended position. With his free hand, Or'gul swung the axe upwards, cleaving open the Ogres soft chest and right arm. A loud whimper and cry followed by another as he chopped off half its foot, and another as he pushed with all his strength towards his opponent with the shield. The blood sprayed everywhere, the air filled with the metallic stench, as he felt it drip from his hand and face.
As the Ogre fell to the ground, Or'gul just followed along, he was fatigue and sore and a burning wound on the right lower arm took rest of the energy he had left. As a clumsy toddler he fell onto the Ogres soft, fat body with only the shield between them, but gravity was not done yet, the shield tipped to the side and along with Or'gul and the both ended face down, in a mix of blood and mud.
He just stayed there after rolling onto his back, too tired to move, the body hurt and his ears were still ringing along with his left hand, from the mighty clang on the shield from the Ogres club. He really hated them, they were big, dumb, inbred and a disgrace to his race. A bird slowly crossed the sky high above him. A few minutes he watched it sore around in lazy movements. A burp and the sound of bubbles through blood, woke him from the daze. He jumped up in a fast motion and cleaved half the Ogres face with his axe. Parts of the ear, teeth and brain flew to all sides, before a large chunk of the head fell down and tipped over, revealing everything, it had inside it. Refreshed from the adrenalin he picked up the shield and pushed it onto his back. The axe got strapped to the belt. He looked at the Ogres bloody body.
❝Ar, you stink, you big inbred baby. Doubt you got anything useful on you. Bet you probably couldn't recognize gold from a spoon.❞
He felt the sides of the body, the fat jiggled each time his big Orc hand slapped it in a searching pattern, lifting bloody linen parts to search for a pouch or hidden weapons.
❝Nothing, what a surprise, your kind are completely useless.❞
With a tired look, he glanced a last time upon the corpse, then turned and walked south.
❝May the maggots and crows have better luck with you.❞
It had turned dark now, the moon was mostly hidden behind heavy clouds and there was the smell of rain in the air. In the distance were mountains and shattered trees on the great plain, of which he was walking. Or'gul had spend days traveling before he had stumbled upon the Ogre. Not sure what it had been doing alone in the wilderness. Hunger or lack of brain must have made it attack him. He wouldn't know, they were fat pigs on two legs. They would properly think they lost a finger, if they stuck it up their nose. He shivered as a cold breeze swept across the landscape. A glimpse caught his eye in the distance, flickering light far away between the trees.
Were there is a fire, there may usually be a camp. He stopped, looking around him, he only saw the mountains he had crossed not so many days ago in the distance. A forest with old trees and the plain stretching out for miles. The flickering light once again caught his eye. In a silent complaint, his stomach growled at him. He had to take this chance to find food. His sack was nearly empty there wasn't a lot of water left either. He took out his axe and changed direction, towards the trees and light.
As he came closer he could see movement between the trees, large silhouettes.
…Ogres, at least four of them. The one he met earlier had to be a scout, hunting for food or searching for easy victims. He went closer, sneaking around in the dark like a clumsy ninja. The wind were in his favor, as it rattled the trees and leafs, masking his heavy footsteps in the dark. He could smell meat roasting over fire, the Ogres were grunting and talking in low voices. There was three of them, two sitting by the fire, and the last one going through a pile of things, backpacks, weapons, bottles and sacks.
❝Nasta'ul shoul' be bak by nuw, hows hard can it bi, to clob a few wabbits? I bet your retar'ed brother fell asleip again.❞
He let out a dry laughter. The Ogre sitting across the fire, looked up and glared at the other. He picked up a stick from the ground and threw it over the fire and hit the other Ogre center in the face.
❞You shoul' talk, who wase the one tu get so dronk in human wines, that you got Taasnaz w'unded in thi last raid?❝ While padding the sore spot from the stick, the Ogre clenched a fist at the other.
❞Throw another, and wes will be one lesz to share thi loots.❝
The Ogre picked up another stick, and with little afford from the short space across the fire, he hit him again, this time on the jaw. He let out a roar and like a fat baby, slowly and clumsy stood up.
❞You son of a mot'erless goat!❝
He threw himself over the fire, knocking over the roasting meat and they both landed on the ground and started fighting. Or'gul saw his moment to act, as the third one had his focused on the fight. He snuck around the trees and came up behind the lonely Ogre. He pulled out a dagger from the belt and went up behind him. Half hidden in the shadows, he grabbed the head and covered the mouth as he violently jabbed the dagger into the neck and upwards in the Ogres head. There was a short reaction where he tried to scream silently, and the arms fought an invisible fight with the air. The foot kicked a bag of bottles and the loud sound of bottles hitting each other, woke the other two from the fight.
They both looked right at Or'gul, half in the shadows with their dead friends head in his hand. He pulled out the dagger slowly, he felt the blood running over the blade and onto his hands, as it got pulled back out. He let go of the Ogres head, that fell to the ground with a crack.
❞You kill Grubb!❝
The Ogre laying at the bottom, fought to push off the one on top, who fought to try and have a hand free to push himself up, both canceling out each others efforts.
❞Lay still, you drunkenly donkey!❝
-Yelled the top one. He got free and stood up, reaching for a club hidden in the tall grass. The other rolled over with the elegance like a wounded walrus, and stood up too. Or'gul walked back into the shadows, zig zagging in between the trees. He could hear the two Ogres roar in anger and hitting bushes and trees as they started to hunt him down. He picked up a big branch and threw it into a tree, a few meters away. The branch breaking against the hard tree structure, gave a loud smash in the small forest. He turned and ran to a tree nearby and hid there.
He heard heavy feet running through the lush growth, the angry snorts and frustrating howls, gave it away it had to be one of the Ogres. It ran past the tree he hid behind and towards the broken branch. With a loud yell, Or'gul ran towards the Ogre. He swung the axe in a violent movement, but the ogre was quicker than he anticipated. The club hit his axe and broke off the axes direction so it missed the target. He felt the ogres fist, punch him in the face, followed by the club sweeping his legs. Or'gul fell hard onto the ground, he lost his air, but still managed to roll to the side, avoiding a fat foot from crushing his skull into the ground.
He raised the axe, parrying a hard hit from the club. Quickly he roll onto his side and got up. He was standing face to face with the angry Ogre now. There was fury in its eyes and it was at least, a head and a half bigger than him. With a bashing motion, Or'gul tried to hit the ogre with his shield, forcing the wanted defense in return. The Ogre blocked the shield with his club, lowering the reaction to avoid him, to strike with the axe. And as foreseen, the axe slashed of the Ogres hand, still holding the club. Blood sprayed onto the shield, and the it gave out a roar in pain and surprise. The second hit opened up its thigh and the Ogre fell to his knees.
❞Your kind, are the jokes of this world❝
Or'gul hissed and ended the Ogre, with a last hit from the axe. It's head rolled into a bush nearby and the body fell to the side and laid still. Or'gul stood still, listening for the other one, that had to be close, there was no way it could have overhear the noise from battle. But there was nothing, the night had fallen silent once again. With his shield close to his body, and the axe rotating in his hand, he slowly walked back towards the camp and tent. He watched everything, looking for a shadow, movement or anything that could give away the location, from which it was hiding. But there was nothing. Birds in the distance and the wind sweeping across the landscape, rattling the tress, was the only thing he could hear. He walked to the fire and picked up the roasted meat. It looked like a part of a boar, it was nearly perfect, though the side that had laid towards the fire was a little crisp and burned on the surface. Or'gul started to eat, one fist full of meat became another and another until he could hardly close his mouth. He was chewing. Only now realizing how hungry he was. He saw the Ogres foot among the bottles and open sack, his eye caught one small barrel with a dwarven logo on it.
❞Beer!❝
Or'gul smiled from ear to ear. He dug in the pile and pulled out the miniature barrel, pushing away the limp foot. It was still full. He felt a joy and cracked it open with his dagger. Oh, the beer tasted so good with the meat. Sitting alone by the fire, he burped loudly and giggled in joy. The tough Orc warrior felt like a child, who got handed his first weapon. The moment was perfect.
After he had done eating and emptied the beer, he sat and felt the warmth from the flames. Looking around the camp, he discovered how big a mess it was. Stuff was laying everywhere, they must have been stationed here for at least a week. A thought came to his head, in the pure chaos of everything, and the relentless hunger, he never even thought about checking the tent. It was quite big and pelt waved lazy back and forth, blocking his view of what may be in side of it. He grabbed his Axe and walked around the fire. Slowly closing in on the entrance. He stopped. There were still nothing to hear, the silence was annoying him. There was still an Ogre missing.
❞Useless creature, that motherless goat, probably ran off, damn coward!❝
He mumbled under his breath.
He poked the pelt hanging off the wooden poll in an iron hook. Nothing. He wasn't sure if he had thought it would pop of and attack him. The pelt got pushed aside by the large Axe blade, and foul smell, hit him in the face.