Benefits of being the Warchief Chapter 1, a misc. games fanfic

A.N.

This is a kind of original story, the world is my own but I will probably use magic from elder scrolls and monsters for WarCraft.

Chapter warning, blood and gore.

Fall and Rise

Fighting in a battle field or old age in a bed, even something stupid like tripping and falling down a flight of stairs but not withering away in a jail cell, not like this. Oxon was surrounded by stone walls and a metal grate, with nothing but the cold ground to comfort him.

He never thought much about how he would die but now he wondered if this room would be the last thing he saw. He wasn't even sure how he got here. He was traveling with other soldiers, they were escorting some civilian carriages then he was here. Recently civilian caravans were trying to take a shortcut through the mountain but none of them were coming back.

The military needed supplies and they needed them fast so he and others were sent to make sure they got them. Things were going fine then they had stopped to rest for a moment but in that moment orcs attacked. It was over in seconds, 2 dozen good soldiers were dead. If someone asked him how he didn't die instantly like everyone else he would tell them he caught an attacking orcs axe with his teeth. Actually Oxon stepped away so he could pee, he didn't even get to go but he was far enough away to have time to draw his sword and brace himself.

He wasn't planning on killing all of them but he thought he would take down at least one. The first one came at him fast, her blades were a blur but with his shield blocking them, he was able to cut off one of her arms then slash her throat. Four more came at him trying to surround him but he kept moving not letting them and one by one they fell. At the end the biggest one was the last left, the one that seemed to be leading them.

As an orc he attacked first, for a time Oxon could handle him but that changed when he grabbed Oxon's shield and threw it away. Oxon took several hits, the orc's jagged great sword smashing into Oxon's chest plate. With considerable effort Oxon was able to knock his great sword out of his hands. Even without it he continued with punches, his strikes sent shockwaves through the plate armor and Oxon could still feel the bruises. Oxon swung his sword over and over until the orc finally collapsed.

Half a dozen orcs lay at his feet, he had gotten all of them or so he thought at the time. It seemed he was wrong, now he looked around his cell. He guessed there was another orc that knocked him out and brought him here. One moment he was surrounded by corpses and the next he was waking up in this cell. He had been here two days, no water, no food and his body still hurt from the fight.

The only sound he could hear was the guard's breathing. She looked bored by the way she sat. She was covered in armor, it was made with bone pieces and held together with leather. A mask covered her face only her smooth chin poked out the bottom.

He couldn't take it. At this point he needed to do something, anything, so he called out. "Hey." One of her pointed ears twitched to the new sound, she turned and looked at him. "How long are you going to keep me here?" She said nothing. "What are you so busy you can't talk". She grumbled and got up, slowly walking to the bars of the cell. She simply stood there until Oxon spoke again. "So what do you do here?"

She sighed. "One of the things I am entrusted with is guarding prisoners."

He was surprised by the feminine tone of her voice. Though it was uninterested and was still deeper than most human females but not to the point of a male human. "Do you not like it?"

"Oh no I love it. I get to focus on my other tasks and after finishing them I have time to do whatever I want ... that is until we actually have a prisoner."

He guessed having a job you never needed to do would be nice. Though it was concerning that they never took a prisoner before. But the ball was rolling and they were talking. "Well since you're here can you get me some water."

" … maybe you shouldn't have wasted what you had." she chuckled "Your pants were drenched when they brought you in here. If you were so thirsty you should have tried to drink what you could out of your own clothes. Not like someone in a cell deserves better."

When he first woke up he found his pants wet, he guessed he relieved himself after he was knocked out. "Well your hospitality isn't really what I'm looking for so why don't you please open the door and I'll leave."

She exploded into deep laughter. "I don't regret guarding now, that is the funniest thing I've ever heard." Her laughter petered out. "The few prisoners we've had always beg for their lives but You politely ask to leave."

"Why can't I leave?"

"I will stop you and have fun doing it, all would fight you so you can't leave. Not without us letting you."

"Oh and how can I do that?"

"what, I just sai-"

Oxon guessed he should fish for any information he could and he cut her off. "I asked how I could leave and you said you would stop me. Now I'm asking how I could get you to let me leave. Come on now you've been so helpful so far. You told me how I can make myself something to drink. Are you saying you aren't smart enough to tell me how to get you to let me go."

"Let you? I am plenty smart but that doesn't matter. There is no wa " Her body became less rigid as she drifted into thought. There was a long moment of silence. "If ... if you kill the Warchief no one would question you ... you could leave."

Uneasy, she walked away, sitting back in her seat. Oxon wasn't sure what to do, he felt the time pass and pass by.

Oxon's blank mind was awakened by a horrible smell. The guard grimaced and started coughing as footsteps echoed from the stairs. A massive orc walked into view, he wore dirty pants and boots with metal shards sticking out. He only wore large bone shoulder pads on his body which was covered in scars.

The orc stood in front of the cell, Oxon's nose burned being this close. "I am the Warchief and within these walls everything is at my whim, including your life."

Oxon didn't like one-sided conversations. "Sooo, your whim can let me go then."

"I wanted another trophy on my wall so not even your body will ever leave this camp."

Well at least he would spruce up the place. This place could look cleaner with his corpse. "I was thinking I could be freed with my life. Why am I in this camp anyways."

"You have taken blood from my clan so blood must be taken back." Orcs didn't like humans in the first place but especially when they killed orcs.

"Aren't you better without those weaklings?" Oxon had nothing else to do but keep the conversation going. Maybe if he cou

"One of them was my brother." The orc's voice was … oddly calm, even bored, for such a powerful statement.

But if he didn't care. "Isn't it less embarrassing for you now that he's gone."

"Come, your life will be freed from this place when it is slowly removed from your body." The Warchief turned to the guard. "Bring him."

She opened the cell. Tightly gripping his arms, she kept them behind his back as she forced him to follow the Warchief up the stairs.

Exiting the stairs his nose was greeted with the smell of fire and so many different foods. The long room had fire pits down its middle and the walls were lined with supplies, mainly weapons and barrels of alcohol.

Tables littered the space in between the fires and walls, each one with mountains of food on it. Surrounding the tables were orcs, more orcs than he had ever seen in one place. That may not be saying much as the fight that brought him here was the first time he saw an orc.

He was led through the room. It took him a few moments but he noticed that all the orcs were female, all except the Warchief at one end of the room. Armor covered some orcs while others left very little of their bodies up to the imagination. They were either devouring food or emptying mugs of alcohol.

Oxon was brought in front of a raised part of the floor. A chair with spikes and skulls coming out of the backrest stood in the center. Trophies of animals, humans and orcs' heads hung on the wall behind. A kick to the back of his knee sent him to the ground.

The Warchief sat comfortably in the large chair. "My brother was my second in charge. Now I have no one capable of filling the role." An orc nearby with long black hair tensed at the comment, a pair of angry eyes stared at the Warchief while some others in the room lazily watched the conversation.

"Good help hard to find?" Oxon didn't feel like giving any of them the satisfaction of seeing him afraid so he spoke as if he was talking to a friend about the weather. What he received was a low chuckle from the Warchief.

"Like you wouldn't believe, you have no idea how hard it is to keep these rabble of mindless animals in line. They only want to do what their urges tell them to do, I'm surprised they can do anything on their own." He looked disapprovingly at the room. "Now enough about my problems let's talk about yours. You have attacked my clan, killed my brother, now you are not begging for your life. For that last one you have lost the chance at a quick death."

'Don't I feel special.' Oxon couldn't figure out if he was getting anything out of these conversations. He was just stalling for time at this point.

"So many options I can't list all of them, maybe make categories, then what to do after, eat you that should be an option ... Mm yes." The Warchief mused.

"Do I get a say?"

"And what do you want?"

'I really only want one thing.' Oxon thought. He felt like he was repeating himself but said it anyway. "Well I want to leave."

The Warchief sighed. "That isn't a choice."

"Why not, you didn't say that earlier."

"Why are you even bothering asking? You're not taking any of this seriously are you."

"Sure I am, you have enough problems. Let me go and I won't be one of them." Oxon tried.

"You want to leave? Very well. I'll let you go and give my underlings a chance to have fun with you. You will run and everyone in this clan will hunt you."

Oxon guessed they've done this before. That or this Warchief was decent at coming up with things on the spot.

The Warchief chuckled and addressed the room "A reward for whoever brings me his head." No one really changed what they were doing and only a few looked like they noticed that he was talking to them.

"You get everyone else to fight for you? What? Are you afraid of Me? Afraid I'll put you down like your brother!"

"you … DARE Challenge ME!" The room became quiet as all within were now listening.

"I'd rather die trying to kill you than die trying to run away. Something I doubt you would understand." Oxon put as much spite as he could into his words. The thing about the Warchief being afraid of him had left his mouth without thinking but now he remembered what his guard told him. Challenge? Kill? He had a plan.

"SO BE IT!" The Warchief stood and barked commands. The other orcs moved tables to make a clearing and placed a ring of weapons on the ground to show the arena. The Warchief gestured to the weapons "Pick up the last thing you will ever hold human."

Oxon looked over his options, outside the area orcs observed with anticipation. Oxon picked a halberd, just a wooden pole with a metal spike and axe head on the end. He hoped it would be enough to keep his opponent at a distance. Oxon didn't want to die but if he had to he would take this bastard with him at the very least.

The Warchief picked up two one-handed axes and hit them together. He roared and slowly walked towards Oxon. Oxon made sure to stay at the side of the circle, he backed up going around and around the area so he was never trapped. The Warchief had a wide smile showing off sharp teeth as he casually walked to his pray. Oxon continued to wait for his opening. 'That's right, toy with me.'

The Warchief lazily swung his axe hitting the end of the halberd, Oxon put on a face of fear as a metal clang rang out. The Warchief laughed and raised his arms in the air, looking to the crowd as if he had won already.

'Wow really? Well alright then.' Oxon lunged forwards, thrusting the halberd to the Warchief's heart.

The Warchief tried to dodge but still got hit in the left armpit, black blood spilled out. The Warchief cried out in pain, Oxon twisted the halberd cutting the inside of the Warchief's arm. Before Oxon could pull away the Warchief grabbed the halberd and broke the pole. The Warchief reached for the axe head that was left embedded in him but Oxon jabbed the pole into the Warchief's eye. Another cry rang out this time in anger and faster this time the pole was broken.

Oxon dropped what was left of his weapon and grabbed a sword from the ring. The Warchief pulled the axe head out of his body with a forced roar. His left arm held an axe defensively to his chest, wood splinters stuck out of the Warchief's eye. The Warchief moved again, this time slower and trying to not let Oxon retreat. He made sudden movements and swings of his axe so that Oxon had to stop to react. Oxon couldn't move anymore, behind him was the crowd, left and right put him in striking range. In fact he was already in range.

The Warchief brought his axe down. Oxon got closer and held the sword in front of the axe handle. The force of the axe on the sword cut the handle. The axe head fell harmlessly behind Oxon's back. Oxon was too close though. The Warchief growled, letting go of the handle but he kept his fist swinging down. Oxon tried to tilt the sword to block but the Warchief did not care. The Warchief's fist didn't stop despite the sword cutting his arm and he hit Oxon in the face. It all happened fast, Oxon was still moving forwards when the strike hit him in the face with such force it took him off the ground. His momentum flipping him in the air, his head passed by the Warchief's legs while his own legs hit the Warchief in the head. Oxon's landing was even less graceful.

Oxon was disorientated but still knew the Warchief was turning around. So Oxon lifted his sword above his head, slashing. The wale of pain was loud enough to bring him back to his senses. The Warchief had now turned around and was punching down, Oxon rolled to dodge it. The Warchief had gashes on his calves, his whole left side was covered in black and his injured eye was closed.

Oxon was on his feet again as fast as he could. The Warchief shuffled forward, he held a long sword and was breathing heavily. The Warchief thrust his sword but was too far away. He was confused but came closer. Another jab, this one would have connected but Oxon shifted his body so it went between his arm and body. He did not move nor react to it being so close. The Warchief was even more confused, he moved closer. Before he could try again Oxon pushed the Warchief's sword to the ground with his own. Oxon stepped on the sword to pin it and with, an unfortunately, an unnecessary telegraphed overhead swing cut off the Warchief's right hand.

There was a high pitched whimper that hurt his ears to the point Oxon was dazed for a moment. When he came to, there was a massive jaw of teeth coming towards him. But as the Warchief tried to bite him, Oxon moved to the side and kicked the Warchief in the leg. The battered orc crashed to his knees.

Oxon's sword struck the side of the Warchief's neck but his arms were tired and his swing weak. The Warchief attempted to move his remaining arm but Oxon swung again, the sword going slightly deeper, then again and again and again. After a time Oxon began screaming, not noticing the Warchief wasn't moving. Finally the sword went through and an orc head rolled away and the Warchief's body crumbled to the ground.

Oxon's whole body struggled not to collapse. His audience looked at the scene with surprise, some even had mouths agape while a few smiled. After a long time they broke free of their daze, first it was one of them then all the orcs got out a weapon.

Oxon tried to focus on why he thought this was a good idea. 'The guard said I could leave if I killed the Warchief. Did she lie?'

An orc with long black hair stepped in front of him. Killing the Warchief was the only plan he had and it did keep him alive a little longer.

'If I have to, I will fight them too.' His body screamed at the thought.

"The strongest rules." The orc in front got on one knee, planting her weapon into the ground. "Hail the new Warchief!"

The rest followed her and kneeled.

"Hail the new Warchief!" "Hail the new Warchief!" "Hail the new Warchief!" "Hail the new Warchief!"

Oxon was perfectly still. 'Oh this can't be good … '

"Our lives belong to you, Warchief. Your word is law, as such we will do anything you say. What do you command?"

A.N.

Well tell me how I did.

Posted 2018-09-12

Reposted 29/07/2019

Rounded word count 2800