A large fire blazed in the center of the orc's camp, in the cover of night. Most sharpening axes and spears in preparation to raid a large settlement they just so happen to find while looking in the Raven mountains. These orcs, these abominations of nature began to snicker when thoughts of the plundering and the women they will surely enjoy. If the rumors are to be believed, these girls are far stronger than the ones they used to take. Meaning one can have more fun with them. Grom laughed at the thought of breaking one of these barbarians. Just another bunch of humans thinking they're tough like those knights of Ken. They will show them.

Gorm left his tent to inspect his war party. They were ready to attack. By morning, they will begin-

A single arrow fell from the sky. One single arrow struck his fellow orc straight in the eye, killing him the second the tip hit his brains. He stood in place trying to register what had just happened. As if on cue from an unknown force, his whole camp was being filled with falling arrows that blanketed everyone and everything. The orc had to rush over to a tree to take cover while others had to use tables and even the dead themselves as makeshift shields to save their hides. The orc named Gorm was shocked at the sight of his party. His orcs were either yelling to one another about what the hell is happening or were wide-eyed as he was from the sudden volley of death.

Just as quickly the first arrow had come, the storm had stopped just quick. Gorm hesitantly poked his head out to investigate and to see if it was safe to leave his tree. His whole camp was littered with bloody bodies of orcs that couldn't find shelter from the arrow volley. Those who survived quickly ran around to find a weapon to defend themselves from whoever launched the ambush.

Gorm slowly moved away from his haven and did the same as his men and tried to arm himself from their unknown enemy. He looked everywhere to find a suitable weapon when he found his trusty ax. But as soon as his fingers brushed the handle, Gorm felt the ground beneath him rumbled. It was soft yet noticeable. But as the second went by, that soft rumbling became stronger. Then a great howl pierced the night around him and his war party. It was loud and angry, like a great beast that was disturbed harshly from its slumber. The trees around these orcs came to life as what had just attacked burst out.

Large men and women with fur pelts and chainmail and scaled armor came rushing out of the trees and bushes. Armed with swords, shields, axes, spears, and even hammers. All of which were screaming bloody murder.

The öxl people.

The orcs brace themselves as they rush at them. The average orc was twice the size of a normal man. So one can imagine the shock when one of the charging öxl men with a large ax rammed and flipped one orc like a wild bull goring anything foolish enough to stand in its way so easily. Gorm and his ilk watched in awe and horror as that same öxl man turned around and stomped that fallen orc's head in until its face and brains were nothing but a bloody red mess of bone and blood.

More of the barbarians followed his example and rushed headlong to meet their uninvited guests. Gorm yelled something like a command to get his monsters to stop standing around and fight back. Both orc and man yelled and charged at each other with deadly results. The orcs tried their usual approach to battle by using their size and strength to crush humans into submission. But to the surprise of Gorm and the others, their enemy not only was using their strategy against them, but The öxl people were also surpassing them.

The savagery of those barbarians when they fight was no myth. No grace or nobility like the Knights of Ken they were used to dealing with. The barbarians slashed, chopped, stabbed, punched, and kicked. Hell, they even bit and ripped the throats out if they had to! The battlefield that was once the orcs camp was chaos. And The öxl people reveled in it. Gorm was struggling to keep his orcs alive. Everywhere he looked they were dead or dying from at the hands of one of them. It was a losing battle and it was time to leave. Gorm yelled desperately to retreat and escape these barbarians. Just as soon he turns around and can make a hasty run from this valley of death, Someone stood in his way.

It was one of these mountain barbarians. He donned a helmet with a single horn in the center along with chainmail covering his face. He was tall and had a slim but muscular build to him. He had no other armor on him besides the helm, but an animal pelt over his shoulders and dark brown leather pants, and a studded leather belt with black fur boots. In each hand, he held a large battle-ax that dripped crimson. Gorm couldn't see his eyes, but he knows he glared daggers straight into his blackened soul. The bonfire that the orcs made earlier roared behind him that made almost like a demon that was spat out from the depths of hell

This lone barbarian began to walk slowly around the shaken Gorm, like a wolf sizing up his next meal. If Gorm wanted to leave this place alive, he would have to deal with him. Gorm stomped his feet and roared at the barbarian, hoping that he could instill some fear. He just stopped and stood in place, unmoving and seemingly unimpressed at his display of establishing dominates. He looked down at the battle-ax he held in his left. He raised it to eye level and inspected it for any faults in its sharp blade as if he had something better to do than deal with the monster in front of him. The barbarian then looked back to Gorm who was stood his ground. Without warning, the mountain barbarian made his move and charged.

He moved deceptively quick and nimble for someone of his size is capable of. Gorm followed his lead and ran straight for his enemy. Just as soon as both combatants made contact, the barbarian stopped unexpectedly and rolled to his right. He swung horizontally at the orc's flank with the battle-ax in his right hand. Gorm had just enough time to raise his ax and let the blade strike into his shaft. The blow from the barbarian had enough force behind it that Gorm slid slightly and his weapon began to crack. Gorm struggled to hold back this beast-made human. He had to kick the barbarian back before he had time to use his other ax. The barbarian fell on his back but he tucked and turned it into a roll and got back up. Gorm was now on the offensive and swung his ax down on the barbarian to catch him off guard as he recovered from his tumble. But he was ready for him and raised both his axes above his head and crossed them together and caught Gorm's ax. The blade of Gorm's ax only inches apart from the mountain barbarian's helm as he grunted from the strain to hold it back. Gorm pulled his ax back and hooked the barbarian's weapon and tossed both him and his battle-axes away. He slid on the dirt and got to his feet. He looked around for his weapons but failed to do so. Gorm couldn't help but smile at the barbarian's misfortune and a new sense of pride and hope arisen in his breast. Gorm walked up to him as if he had already won to deal one final blow to him. The barbarian just looked at him. He looked to his hands and back to Gorm who was almost chuckling at him. Most men would run from such a situation as this.

But was not most men

He bent his knees slightly and raised both his hands. Each hand was balled tightly into a fist. Unbelievable Gorm thought, he was gonna continue to fight. Gorm was happy to oblige his disarmed opponent and started to swing his ax down on him. The barbarian just stepped to the left and the ax dug itself into the dirt. He delivered a solid left jab into Gorm's cheek that made him stumbled. He pulled his ax out of the ground and swung it to his left to chop him in half. He simply ducked and responded with a right hook to the other side of Gorm's face that made him staggered backward. The Barbarian let out a yell and tackled Gorm right to the ground.

The Barbarian jumped on top of the orc and proceed to pummel his enemy's face. Gorm couldn't do much but put his arms up and try to block the frenzied rain of punches directed at him. Each punch felt like they had enough strength to rattled someone's brains in their skull to death. When the barbarian saw that Gorm covering his face, he took the opportunity to grab his throat and try to strangle the orc instead. Gorm's eyes nearly popped out of his head from the barbarian's grip. He grabbed his wrists in hopes to pry them off his neck. But his hands held on firmly and show no signs of letting go. He looked to his right side to see his ax was just out of reach for him to do anything with it right now. So Gorm let his hand wander frantically for something around him to help escape. Gorm felt something cold and solid that he recognized as a stone in his right hand. He gripped the stone tightly and smashed it on the side of the barbarian's helmet with enough momentum that it knocked him off and his helmet was sent flying.

Gorm coughed and grabbed his large ax and turned to the barbarian. The barbarian shook his head and got up, finally revealing his face to him. He looked young like he was in his early to mid-twenties. His hair was a dark brown that was long enough to tickle his shoulder. The most striking feature about him was his eyes. His left eye was a cold sapphire blue with a small scar running down on that side of his face. And his right eye, a dark emerald green. Both eyes seemed to be blazing with a cold fire behind them. He was huffing but did not look winded in the slightest. No, if anything, he looked like a caged beast patiently waiting to be unleashed.

Gorm was not waiting for him to make the first move again, nor would he take him lightly like last time. He lifted his ax parallel to his waist and took the initiative by trying to cleave this barbarian in half and be done with him. The young barbarian did not move. He bent his knees once more and brace himself for the orc's swing. He did not duck nor did he made any attempt to move out of the way. Instead, just when the ax blade was meters away from him, the barbarian grabbed the wooden shaft of Gorm's ax. He held on tight to not let him get away. Then with one mighty scream, the barbarian raised his right arm and slammed down on the shaft, and snapped the damnd orc's right in half. Gorm was in awe at such a display of strength as his weapon was reduced to splinters. Just what is he? Those were the final thoughts of Gorm the orc when the barbarian took the head of his broken ax with both hands and tossed it straight into his face.

The orc stumbled, flailed, and finally fell over twitching as the last of its life spilled away onto the dirt. The young barbarian huffed one last time before he turned his back on Gorm's corpse. Cheers echoed around him as his fellow barbarians watched his fight after killing and driving the other orcs off.

"Now that was spectacle if I have ever seen one!" One of the barbarians cheered. "If anyone earned his place in the great corpse hall it is him." Another one said when the young barbarian picked up his helmet. He turned to one of them. "Have anyone seen my axes?" The young barbarian asked innocently, like the events that had transpired were already forgotten to him. "Right here, boy." An older man approached him from behind. Carrying the axes in both hands. His face was covered by a large black beard that was graying from age. "Thank you, Hogarth." The young barbarian thanked the older man and took his weapons back. Hogarth nodded and turned to his warriors "That's enough gawking from everyone! Gather everything these bastards had and head back to the village!" All yelled in response and started to spread out to search the orcs camp for valuables. Everyone but the young barbarian that is. "Where are you going?" Hogarth asked. The young one looked at him and said "Back home, nothing here interests me." and turned around and began to leave. Hogarth just shrugged his shoulders and joined his comrades. "More for me then." A barbarian laughed. Hogarth's joined in as well.

"That's Barlog for you," Hogarth mused "he's a big man with a big heart. Only fighting to keep his home happy and safe."