2
Alaesia froze, the side of her face coated in blood, fragments of bone, and other fleshy bits that had backsprayed from the void where The Gourmet's head once stood. What… was the only word that came to her mind. A daze of confusion started bubbling into disgust and horror, forming a lump in her throat as she wiped the ichor from her skin. Time froze as she looked at the black goo streaked across her hand, until a battlecry cut through the patter of rain.
Alaesia was snapped back to her senses, and she looked towards the other tents of Ku'Gohn's campground. The ground quaked as numerous orcs and uruks charged the campgrounds, like a stormy wave might batter a rocky shoreline. The ambush seemed to have been so carefully laid, that even the posted guards were eliminated with immediate precision.
The sounds of battles came crashing across the grounds; from the direction of Ku'Gohn's slave cages other screams rang out, along with the screeching protests of metal being rent. Human voices cried before petering into gurgling death-throes. Alaesia had only a split second to act, though with her shackles and chains, she was sure she would meet the same fate as her fellow slaves. But no orcs had seen her just yet.
She tried with all her might to pull the chain from the mud where the links had suctioned into the surface. As if by divine luck, the noise of the battle and the mud itself dampened the rattling of her chains as she was barely able to reach the supply wagon alongside Ku'Gohn's tent. She couldn't help but whisper a tiny prayer in her heart, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the scent of rotting caragor would help hide her.
As the woman moved to duck underneath the wagon, she felt the tension of her chains resisting. She pulled harder, only to spy the end of the chain where it had caught on one of the tent posts near Ku'Gohn's corpse. She shimmied under the planks as far as she could, finding she was able to get everything but her hands tucked back into the shadows. It was only then that she saw a behemoth silhouette emerging from the rising mists of the dark and rainy night.
Approaching the tent entrance and the Gourmet's lifeless corpse, was an olog of massive proportions. He was cloaked in a tattered black hood, painted with black war paint, and bearing heavily spined armor that curled up and over his frame like a bastardized version of a halo. The hulking creature hefted a full-sized ballista with relative ease, as though it were just a normal crossbow, and knelt to study his kill. He retrieved the great iron bolt, shoved it through the dead Ku'Gohn's gut with a satisfied twist, and went to lift it as a morbid banner.
The motion happened to knock the portion of Alaesia's chain that had hooked on the tent post free. In her attempt to hide beneath the wagon, she hadn't realized that she was still exerting tension on the chain, and the sudden slack in the chain caused it to drag across the ground. At the same time, Alaesia saw the olog's attention snap to the movement and his gaze slowly followed the length of the chain towards her hiding spot.
When her eyes spied him looking in her direction, her blood ran cold. Something dark was behind those eyes, a sinister, unnerving force unlike any she had ever seen before. Instinct took her mind in an iron grip and she couldn't help but scramble backwards, further under the wagon. In her haste, she failed to notice a sickly clutch of eggs, cemented to the ground by mucus, hidden just behind a wagon wheel.
Alaesia let out an involuntary gasp as her elbow and shoulder smashed through the eggs, sending a foul sulphurous smell wafting about her. She felt the ground shake as the olog approached the wagon; every bit of her body screamed for her to run, only to find the weight of the olog preventing her from fleeing as he stepped on the chain. The ground beneath Alaesia began to rumble and undulate even more as the olog's mighty hands slammed on either side of the wagon. It started to rise up, the brute lifting it as though it were weightless, until an ape-like shriek cut through the air.
The vibrating earth under Alaesia's hands sank for a moment, then burst upwards as a tunnel thronged with ghuls opened alongside the woman. Countless numbers of the foul creatures sprang forth, throwing themselves to the defence of their brood-mother's egg clutch. Alaesia threw her arms over her head, to shield her face from the creatures, but the majority of them launched at the bigger threat of the olog.
The frail bodies of the ghuls were comically outclassed by the giant, but they bit and slashed in their devoted frenzy. The olog bellowed, and returned the attack tenfold. For every gob of acid spat at him, he decimated the lot of the vicious little creatures. Their broken bodies lay strewn about, pulped into the ground beyond recognition. Any remaining survivors burrowed away before they found themselves within the olog's reach and wrath. The giant let out a satisfied huff, almost as though pleased with his victory, and began to rifle through the contents of the wagon above Alaesia's head.
She tried to hold as silently still as possible, sure that the pounding of her heartbeat would give away her location. It was so loud inside her head, she thought for sure, any moment that fellish monster would hear it. But, instead it was the lingering remnants of the ghul eggs that would be her downfall.
The ground beneath Alaesia shuttered again, only this time, a massive ghul matron had tunneled up, right between her and where the olog was standing. The matron slashed all around, indiscriminately hitting both Alaesia and the olog with her vicious claws. Alaesia cried out in pain upon receiving a number of deep cuts that scored across her skin. At the same moment, the olog furiously grasped around under the wagon to grab the attacker. His fist clamped on the matron's arm, and Alaesia's chain and both were forcibly drawn from under the wagon.
As the matron was pulled from her burrow, more ghuls streamed out behind, adding to the force attempting to overwhelm the olog. In the chaos, the olog released his grasp on both, dropping his catches to the ground. Alaesia tried to scramble away, but was swiftly overtaken by the ghuls as well. She heard the olog snarl and felt the force of his retaliation slam through the wave of night creatures.
The ghul's matron did her best to eliminate the hulking beast, but the olog's tough hide sent each strike she took at him glancing off. As if dealing with a nest of irritating bugs, the olog easily snapped her neck and scattered the rest with an unearthly bellow. Any stragglers were quickly snuffed out with a well aimed swipe.
Alaesia tried to fight back the pain of the slashes the ghuls inflicted, as she inched as fast as she could from the scene. Unfortunately, the movement of her chains caught the olog's attention.
He grunted and stomped toward her. His giant hand slammed into her back as she scrambled, desperately reaching for one of the rusty kitchen knives that had been knocked to the ground during the assault of the camp. She was just able to grab one, but she was yanked into the air, and the olog seized her makeshift weapon with his free hand. She kicked and screamed, hopelessly trying to break free, but knowing it was no use.
As though amused at her futile efforts, the olog snorted, uttering something to himself in black speech, before speaking to her in a broken dialect, "Ma az garz-gimbuga? Maybe Gourmet's pet? Or meal?" The olog's long, deep voice made Alaesia's chest shutter as though she couldn't breath. He paused, as though after thinking for a moment, before correcting himself, "Both. Mashku, yer master's dead."
He pinned Alaesia back to the ground, face down in the mud; his tusked maw leaned in close, towards the gouges on her back from the ghul claws. In an ominous tone, he offered Alaesia a choice, "What ye think? Gurut... death? Or beg for life?"
Alaesia could not catch her breath from the weight upon her chest, and she was sure her ribs would give out at any moment. The thought of what horror awaited her if she were to choose the latter, was far more frightening.
If orcs are beyond cruel, what was an olog capable of? She might have had at least a hope of escape from the Gourmet, who had been relatively weak for an orc. At least in death, there will be no more pain or suffering. But the sheer force of power behind the olog's grip felt inescapable, except for one way. With what little air was left in her lungs, Alaesia whispered, "Please, let me die..."
The olog flipped Alaesia over with little effort, so she would have to face him. He loomed over her, bearing his wickedly long tusks and fangs in a semblance of what she could only assume was a cold smile, "Az urdan-gurut. Only death if I give it."
Alaesia watched the brute detach her chain from its bolted anchor with just a tug, before she was yanked violently to her feet. From the darkness, other orcs began to emerge, reporting to the olog, and presenting him with their spoils from the camp raid. Alaesia spotted one or two fellow slaves amongst the loot, though she could not tell if they were dead or alive. She heard the orcs address the olog with fear and reverence, as Ar-Tashk the Reaper.
****Author's note****
To see a picture of Ar-Tashk, please visit my profile for a link to my ArchiveOfOurOwn and visit chapter 2 of "You Reap What You Sow" there!
****Translations****
Snaga - Slave
Ma az garz-gimbuga? - What have I found?
Mashku. - Whatever.
Gurut - Death
Az urdan-gurut - I decide death.