Chapter I: Toil (Part III)
Thwip!
Watching the arrow pierce through my late mother's heart, time seemed to slow to a stop for just a quick moment- as if allowing me to fully understand the true horror of the events before me.
(Music: 'Town in Chaos', by Stuart Chatwood)
In less than a second, I felt alive with rage. My muscles crackled and heaved as my body was pumped with malicious adrenaline; My eyesight sharpened and narrowed, and a guttural, ferocious noise escaped from my throat.
"R…un… Enos…" My late mother cried out weakly, tears billowing from her eyes before she fell limp onto the grass.
Sorrow, grief, loss- those were the emotions of someone who was connected to their world, who was so grounded in their own reality that they were fearful of losing what they had.
"BY SIGMAR, IT'S A GREENSKIN INVASION! CLOSE THE CITY GATES, NOW!" I could hear a distant guardsman cry out; The sound of bells tolling flooded the air soon enough.
Pain, suffering, misery- those had never left me between both worlds. Through this rebirth and sudden loss, I realized that this place had stripped me of my humanity- it had been left back in my homeworld, the very moment I perished.
I stood there, paralyzed with unspeakable, insurmountable RAGE. I could only watch as a fearsome tide of Greenskins surfaced over the hills, looking down with violent delight at the easy pickings that my village seemed to them.
My village.
My village.
MY VILLAGE!
"MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNEEEEEE!" I screamed in visceral, mindless madness, grabbing the hilt of a nearby pitchfork buried in a haystack and tearing it out with brute force as I watched the Greenskins, big and small, sprint down the hill and set fire to my community, slaughtering every villager that stood in their path; Swinging their jagged axes and blades, hacking through the tender flesh of my soft-hearted villager family, that I'd come to known over the course of many years.
Timothens, our best crop-grower and reputed chef, was butchered and torn apart by a pack of Orks, who then feasted on him heartily; Erima, our most experienced merchant woman and secret enjoyer of the farmer's almanac, was shot in the leg by a stray arrow. Her screams brought joy to the Goblins that surrounded and stabbed her to death, delighting in her horrific, wailing agony; Hilford, the village head and a kind soul that spared me from corporal punishment more often than not, was one of the lucky few to receive a merciful death, having his head decapitated cleanly by one of the bigger Orks.
The rest- shot by arrows, stabbed to death, brutally torn apart and devoured, mauled by wolves, poisoned by spiders, or turned into red paste by Orks riding ferocious beasts.
And I… I watched it all.
I watched it ALL.
AND I UNDERSTOOD THE MEANING OF THIS LIFE.
(Music: "Otar the Foul", Epikus)
My mind was no longer steeped in a flurry of emotions; Everything, from my perception to my muscle response, was focused purely on survival. There was no other feeling like it in all of my existence- An overwhelming, vicious inner force commanding me to survive at all costs.
A gust of air was released from my lungs, exhaling as I readied myself, leveling the pitchfork in hand as the first of the Goblins skittered towards me, cackling at the sight of a mere boy trying to fight back.
That look on his face- THAT FUCKING LOOK ON HIS FACE!
YOU'LL BE THE-
"FIRST TO DIE, MOTHERFUCKER!" I bellowed at it, malice dripping from every pore in my body, launching forward and striking at the Goblin; Its narrowed eyes widened in shock and horror as I moved far quicker than it expected, and plunged the three-pronged weapon through its narrow body like a kebab.
I hoisted its flailing body into the air, vicious euphoria coursing through me as it screamed in pain, blood dripping down the pitchfork and onto my hands. I slammed the Goblin down onto the ground, ripping the pitchfork from its impaled belly and raising it again to stab it once more.
"OI, LOOK AT DAT LI'L 'UMIE BASTERD!"
I heard the sound of an Ork speaking, its rough voice grating against my ears- what an unpleasant sound!
I turned my wrathful gaze on the Ork that spoke; An average-sized Greenskin, wearing crude clothing and armor, sporting even cruder gear and a jagged blade which it raised above its head as it roared, charging at me. It was daunting beyond measure, seeing a 7-foot tall monster charging me with all the murderous energy it had carried to kill my-
For just a moment, my eyes glanced over the pile of corpses that Ork had been standing over, and I saw some of them to be the bodies of my siblings, strewn about in a bloodied and disembodied mess.
"HHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRGGGG-!" I screamed through my teeth, unable to convey an emotion that even closely resembled the FURY, ANGER, RAGE AND PURE, SAVAGE, AGONIZING WRATH THAT ENCAPSULATED ME.
I charged the Ork, having shed my care for living, screaming louder than I ever did in my entire existence. My vocal cords were bleeding, but I cared not, as I charged straight towards the Ork barreling at me with the same violent gusto.
Just as I saw him raise the sword over its head, getting ready to swing downwards, I quickly heaved my pitchfork back and thrusted it with all of my speed and might into its belly.
SCHRK!
The pitchfork tore through the Greenskin's belly, impaling the humanoid beast. It looked down in confusion, dropping its weapon, and temporarily worked to remove the improvised spear from its gut, almost with a sense of mild annoyance and frustration. The sight of its nonchalant behavior after being impaled by a full weapon, and its calmness and carelessness by dropping its weapon, despite facing an opponent in battle…
Because... I was a child...?
...
How…
Completely…
Utterly…
I-N-F-U-R-I-A-T-I-N-G-!
I darted around the Ork with reinvigorated swiftness, picking up its jagged blade with two hands -almost dropping it because of its sheer weight- and swinging the blade down at its right arm, which was preoccupied with trying to pull the pitchfork out of its gut.
SCHK!
The Ork cried out in anger and frustration as the blade slammed into its arm, halfway-cutting it off; I ripped it out of the open wound and cleaved again, this time tearing the arm off. The Ork began trying to grab at me, but I managed to dart away before it could get its burly arm around me.
"I'M GONNA HACK YOU TO FUCKING BITS, YOU GREEN SHITSTAIN!"
The words that left my mouth were ugly, graceless and full of unrestrained vitriol- And it continued that way, as I hurled crude and malicious remarks at the Ork as I hacked at its body and face with a murderous fervor, letting the jagged ends of the weapon tear the flesh apart everytime I ripped out the blade. It was lucky of me to be born with such strength and muscle, as my father was in his prime, but my strength had been quickly fading even before I picked up the weapon.
SCHK! SCHK! SCHK!
Hacking away mindlessly at the Ork, feeling its blood splatter across my features, I was overcome with a dreadful realization: No matter how hard I fought, no matter if I killed this Ork or the next one,
I was in a child's body. I didn't have nearly enough experience or ability to escape, much less fight anything else. I would be dying here today.
But at the moment, that didn't matter to me. Only that this Ork was brutally ended.
Eventually, the Ork was but a bloody pile of mess, no longer moving, and the heavy weapon fell from my hands, slamming into the dirt; I gasped for air, dripping sweat profusely, completely exhausted from the ordeal.
"ROIGHT, NOW THAT WAS SOME PROPA FOIGHTIN'! KUNNIN' AND BRUTAL KRUMPIN'!"
I was just barely able to make out the words and raucous laughter of another Ork, and for a moment I feared the end. However, seeing as the next seconds didn't have me getting butchered, I mustered enough strength to raise my head and look.
Standing before me was a massive, towering Ork, easily over 10 feet tall, grinning madly as it stared me down with a giant double-edged war axe heaved over its shoulder.
"TOOK A BREAK FROM DA FOIGHTIN' JUST 'TA SEE THIS KRUMPIN'!" The Ork, clearly a rank of authority, bellowed; The natural speaking voice for the Orks. "BUT I SUPPOSE THAT'S IT FROM YA, THEN!"
Wiping the sweat and blood from my face, I raised my fists, clenching my teeth and staring as viciously as I could at the Ork; If I were to die again,
I WOULD DIE FIGHTING.
(Music: "Beast of the Blood Eaters", by Kevin Riepl)
The Ork's eyes lit up as it saw me prepare to fight, and another bellowing laughter erupted from its gargantuan figure; Its individual decorations of skulls and limbs rattled against the Ork's gilded armor as it swung its massive axe around in excitement.
"YOOS A REAL INTERESTIN' 'UMIE, I'LL TELL YA WOT!" It bellowed, its voice carrying across the entire village. It looked around at the ground, seeing a shortsword dropped by a dead guardsman, and kicked it over to me, its face alight with joy.
"GO ON, THEN!"
I wasted no time grabbing up the shortsword, feeling a violent indignation at the idea that I was going to be a plaything for this green fuck in my last moments.
As I leaned down to pick up the sword, I grabbed a handful of dirt and soil, and began sprinting suddenly at the Ork; As it readied itself for battle, I stopped just short of being within arms' reach, and slung the dirt into the Ork's face.
"HAHAHAAAA!" It bellowed in laughter once more, as I circled around its massive frame and tried to stab at its side-
CLANG!
-Only for a hulking wall of metal to deflect the tip of my blade, throwing me off-balance.
"TOO SLOW!"
I felt all of the air leave my lungs as a giant, green hand smacked my small frame, sending me careening through the air and impacting into the fields of wheat and barley nearby; I groaned in pain, as I could feel several of my bones having fractured; I was exhausted and incapacitated, with no hope of being able to fight anymore-
"AAAW, YOOS CAN'T BE SERIOUS!" I heard him bellow in anger from a few meters away. "YOOS DEAD ALREADY?"
"RAAAAAAGGGHH!"
I released a primal scream of refueled rage, ignoring the shooting pain throughout my body as I struggled to get up off the ground, moving through the wheat fields quietly until I could see the Ork again, who was staring at my burning village with a look of boredom on his face. A twisted grin erupted across my features.
I'M GONNA SLICE THAT EXPRESSION CLEAN OFF YOUR FACE!
That malicious thought carried my blade as I darted from the wheat field, honing in on the Ork's leg; I would cut his leg tendons, rendering him immobile, then find an opportunity to slice his head off.
He seemed completely oblivious as I snaked forward, getting closer to him from behind, and as soon as I was in range, I jabbed the blade towards the back of his leg-
Shick!
-The blade cut through the soft flesh between his thigh and calf, though it was far more resistant than I expected. Nonetheless, I pushed the blade through, causing the Ork to fall to his knees. I quickly ripped it out, leveling the blade across the neck of the Ork; His eyes glanced towards me with an expression I could not explain.
"Yoos really ARE full o' surprises, aren't ya?"
That was the first time I'd heard an Ork speak softer than a belligerent yell; And the first time I realized there were different forms of Ork dialect. Though it took me off-guard, I wasted no time, sliding the blade across his neck-
"...Huh?"
I was immediately dismayed at the sight of the blade gliding across the top of its skin, hardly making even a shallow slice. In desperation, I swung the blade back, then swung it back towards the Ork's neck, intending to decapitate it-
CRACK!
-Only to watch in despair as the blade snapped in half, leaving only a shallow cut. I looked down at the broken blade in my hand, unable to form words for the emotions I felt at that moment. I looked back up to see the Ork grinning widely once again, as if pointing fun at me for this humiliation.
"FUUUUCCK YOOUUU!"
I cried out in tired, angry despair, jabbing the jagged edge of the broken sword towards the Ork's eyes. The Ork moved almost instantly, practically slapping the blade out of my hand and fracturing my wrist. He eyed me with curiosity, as if considering whether or not to throw me to the ground and stomp out my existence.
Mixed emotions rose up in my stomach as his face twisted into a malicious grin, like a pig-faced emperor that'd had his bloodlust sated.
"OI'VE MEYD UP MY MIND!" He bellowed once more, throwing me to the ground. "YOOS GAYV ME A BETTA FOIGHT THAN MOST O' THESE GITZ, SOZ YOO GET TO LIVE ANUTHA DAY AND WORK!"
Lifting my sodden face from the ground, it was only then that I noticed the aftermath of my surroundings.
(Music: "Arsonist's Lullabye", by Hozier)
The sky was smothered by a sea of grey clouds, hanging miserably over a burning, war-torn landscape. Fields of wheat, barley and other crops burned in a fiery blaze, stacks of smoke billowing churlishly into the deathly sky; The only sounds that filled the air were the cries of agony from widowed wives and orphaned children. Beastmen and Greenskins alike went around, butchering and feasting on the unlucky survivors and corpses in their wake; The rusty smell of blood and ash clogged my every sense, and the only thing on my mind at that moment was…
I'm free.
Ah, I'm free.
The next few moments were a blur as I felt my bruised and bloodied body dragged across the cracked, hardened soil -as if the very earth itself were cursing me for letting this happen to it- and I was promptly thrown into the back of a cart full of other newly-added slaves.
"YOOZ BETTA BE GRAYTFUL DAT DA GREAT WARBOSS OGKAZ SKULLCRACKA IS LETTIN' YA LIVE, LI'L 'UMIE!" I barely heard the bellowing words of the Ork leader. "DAT IS, IF YA LIVE THROO DA WORK! HAHAHAHAHA!"
The echoing laughter of the Warboss rang through my ears as I silently suffered. I was bleeding, aching, broken; My skin a mesh of purple and red, my hands calloused from lifting brute weaponry, my insides broiling in pain from a dozen other internal injuries.
And still, at that very moment, where I could see the sun cresting the horizon of the mountains, shedding rays of light over the pilfered lands…
I knew I was free. Free of all moral responsibility to any deity, free of all physical connections to my once-loved ones, free from the agonizing, miserable-fucking-boring existence of that goddamn hamlet! FREE from the sight of that golden-plated fucking shit-rock Nuln! FREE from-
FREE FROM BEING HUMAN.