Tragnash’s Folly:

  Flashback into the stronghold—

  “Rocka, from here on forth, you will be stripped of your name, your resources, and your honor. Which means you are no longer a son of Urgnash?Yal. Today you are an orc no more!”

  Kraken’s decree left the crowd — and Tragnash — silent.

  Goram and Traken averted their gaze in shame.

  The other orcs jeered and spat their displeasure.

  Traken muttered,

  “Good thing Mother isn’t here to see this.”

  Tragnash stepped forward, voice cracking with outrage.

  “Master — but my glory!”

  Kraken overruled him with a single bark:

  “I have spoken! Now take him away. Toss him outside for the human filth to do with him as they please.”

  Rocka was hauled off, limp and broken.

  Tragnash stood motionless.

  The orcs stayed silent for him as well, drowning the echo of Kraken’s decree.

  He felt the weight of every stare.

  The bitterness on his tongue.

  The dust in his throat.

  His mace hung heavy in his hand — heavy with Rocka’s blood, heavy with Kraken’s words.

  His victory felt empty.

  He glanced toward the pavilion.

  Torkr Rak?Ash watched him, expression unreadable.

  Kraken’s shadow loomed over them both.

  Tragnash swallowed.

  The dying clamor beyond the gates faded into nothing.

  All he heard was the hollow beating of his own heart.

  As the arena settled, Fergus awkwardly took the stand. The battle band followed, easing into a tune to fill the uneasy quiet.

  “Quite the interjection! But a master’s writ is absolute — especially from the Battle Master! Nonetheless, we have a tournament to uphold, for ’tis Mau?Lak’s will! Now, men, we proceed with our next match!”

  Tragnash closed the armory door behind him.

  He sat on the bench, frustrated — feeling robbed.

  An old, battered orc limped in on a wooden crutch.

  “Well,” the old orc rasped, “that was quite the travesty.”

  Tragnash snarled.

  “I don’t want to hear it, old man.”

  The old orc snickered.

  “Is that any way to speak to your father?”

  Tragnash scoffed, throwing his hands up.

  “Forgive me, oh great veteran Torkr Rak?Ash! What do you want? Spill it!”

  Torkr lowered himself onto the bench across from him, matching the sarcasm with a slow, needling grin.

  “Tall Tragnash Rak?Ash… what a folly. Denied his first glory in Tengwar. Seems Kraken’s grown a soft spot for his pathetic offspring. And truly — it’s your fault, if you think about it.”

  Tragnash shot to his feet, growling.

  “Enough! Twas the Battle Master’s will. No fault of mine!”

  Torkr sat in silence for a long, judging moment. Then he spoke.

  “Your younger brother, Horker — unlike you — was bested by a son of Urgnash?Yal. Yet he fought to the bitter end. He lives only by Mau?Lak’s will, not the Battle Master’s. Goram earned his glory because he followed through and did not succumb to hubris.”

  Tragnash’s lip curled.

  “What are you stating, you old fool?”

  Torkr leaned forward.

  “You played with your quarry. You wanted a show, not a kill. And Kraken took advantage.”

  “Nay!” Tragnash barked. “Rocka was pudgy, slow — everyone knew that!”

  Torkr let the silence stretch again before answering.

  “Aye. The middle son of Urgnash?Yal gave in to overindulgence and degeneracy. Judgment was loud and clear. All the more reason you should have struck him down in one fell swoop — not given Kraken the chance.”

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  He narrowed his eyes.

  “Tell me, do you remember how Mau?Lak earned his name and his glory?”

  Tragnash huffed.

  “Yes. He bested the sloth, Gra?Gon Bhoar, in single combat. Then he paved the way for all orcs to claim their own glory.”

  Torkr’s expression darkened. He swung his crutch and cracked Tragnash across the arm.

  “Ahh!” Tragnash winced.

  “You arrogant maggot!” Torkr barked. “That’s not how it went! This new generation — ignorant of our own history!”

  He shook his head, muttering.

  “I’m damn sure I told you and your brother this tale a dozen times… I’ll tell it again, so you understand.”

  Tragnash stood, waving him off.

  “No, no, old man — I’d rather get some fillers.”

  Torkr struck him again, this time across the foot.

  “Ow! Damn it, old man! Fine!”

  Tragnash dropped back onto the bench.

  Torkr straightened, planting his crutch like a staff.

  “Now… let us start at the beginning.”

  “A long time ago,” Torkr began, “when the first orcs came to the Old World, they gathered under one banner — Clan Bhoar. The mightiest of all. Some say we came from the burning south, armed to the teeth and hungry for war. Others claim the gods of man spawned us to punish mankind for inventing war. And some fools still believe we hail from ancient mountain apes who bred with ogres and trolls.”

  He tapped his crutch on the floor.

  “The Romans call us Orcus. The Norsemen call us Jotnar. But to us, orcs are simply warriors.”

  He leaned forward.

  “And among those warriors was Mau?Lak of Bhoar — battle?tested, sharp of mind.”

  Torkr’s voice dropped.

  “Clan Bhoar was led by Gra?Gon. After years of raids and bounty, the clan grew arrogant. Soft. The leader gave in to sloth. He grew slow. The warriors followed.”

  He jabbed a finger at Tragnash.

  “Except Mau?Lak. For he was wise.”

  “Mau?Lak stayed strong. He trained while others feasted. He watched while others slept. He kept his blades sharp when the clan dulled theirs.”

  Torkr’s eyes hardened.

  “Then came the reckoning.”

  “The Ape?men descended from the caverns and valleys. They had not given in to sloth. They were wise. Ruthless. Strong.”

  “Gra?Gon dismissed them, trusting in old glories. But the Ape?men struck hard. Swift. Without mercy. They carved through Clan Bhoar like wolves in a lamb?fold.”

  “The orcs weren’t ready. They fell. But five survived.”

  He raised a hand, counting them off.

  “Mau?Lak. Gra?Gon. Traken. Drek?Esh. Urak.

  Battered, bleeding — but alive.”

  “Gra?Gon claimed mastership again, as if nothing had happened. The others followed… except Mau?Lak.”

  Torkr straightened, mimicking the ancient stance.

  “‘Nay,’ he declared. ‘Thou lost the right. Thou art leader no more.’”

  “Gra?Gon raged. Yet none stood against Mau?Lak’s challenge. The air tightened with silence.”

  “They dueled.”

  “Gra?Gon was weak. He did not last long.”

  “He fell to his knees and begged for mercy.”

  Torkr’s voice boomed, echoing off the armory walls.

  “‘’Orc must die on his feet — not on his knees!’ Mau-Lak shouted.”

  “Gra?Gon, trembling in pathetic fear, stood… and Mau?Lak struck him through the chest. Swift. Without mercy.”

  Torkr’s tone dropped to a gravelly whisper.

  “In his dying breath, Gra?Gon spat, ‘May the Ape?men take you, usurper.’”

  “And with that, Gra?Gon fell. Mau?Lak rose — the true leader of the broken. The reborn master of Clan Bhoar.”

  Tragnash rose abruptly, waving a hand.

  “Yes, yes — and then Mau?Lak defeated the ape?men. Great story. Now if you don’t mind—”

  Torkr’s frown cut him off. He swung his crutch sharply into the back of Tragnash’s knee.

  “Naghh!” Tragnash buckled, dropping to the ground.

  Torkr loomed over him.

  “That’s not all that happened. How about you listen — and then you can go.”

  He tapped his crutch thoughtfully.

  “Now… where was I? Ah, yes.”

  He resumed.

  “In the aftermath, one orc stepped forward — Traken… Traken Bal?Grog, not Urgnash mind you. He was made wise by the slaughter. He lifted the fallen chief’s axe and spoke:

  ‘Hail, clan leader. May you lead Clan Bhoar to glory, Master Mau?Lak Bhoar.’”

  Torkr’s voice deepened.

  “Drek?Esh, Urak, and Traken gathered behind Mau?Lak — not just as warriors, but as brothers in arms. Their faces held fear from uncertainty… but their eyes held fire.”

  “Mau?Lak spoke:

  ‘Bear no fear — but understand it.

  We shall train. We shall prepare. We shall decimate our foes.

  We will rebuild.

  Reclaim our weapons.

  Strike when the time is right.

  The enemy slumbers during winter. That gives us time.’”

  “They forged blades, clubs, axes — whatever they could shape.

  They trained.

  They hunted.

  They raided.”

  “For moons, they became ghosts beneath the frost. Until the last day of fall.”

  “Winter came. The ape?men grew sluggish with security.”

  “The orcs baited wolves to the ape?men’s lair. Snarling, blood?thirsty packs tore through their tents in the night.”

  “The ape?men panicked. Chaos spread like fire. And from the shadows, Mau?Lak and the Remnant Orcs roared their battle cry and struck with fury — fear carved into the ape?men’s eyes.”

  “They slaughtered them. All but one.”

  Torkr’s voice dropped to a gravelly whisper.

  “A broken ape?man lay among the dead.”

  ‘Damn you, o ye tusked ones,’ he gasped.

  ‘I am Racken, of the Rock?Bearers.

  Today you have earned retribution.

  May my demise inspire your foes.

  For we will not be your last… Master Mau?Lak Bhoar.’”

  “Racken died cackling… until he fell still.”

  “They returned to camp blood?drunk and victorious,” Torkr continued. “They feasted. They sang. They took females for fornication. But Mau?Lak could not sleep. He could not feast. He could not enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.”

  “He heard Racken’s words echoing in his skull. So he withdrew to his tent to contemplate.”

  “The next morning, he gathered his brothers and spoke:

  ‘We have earned much. But there is more to take.

  I fear weakness will return.

  We must never forget our past.

  We must seek wisdom. Expand our clan.

  Glory fades. Discipline must endure.’”

  “And so they vowed never to become like Gra?Gon — never to succumb to sloth and decadence again.”

  “That night marked the birth of the orcish way — the first step toward a law greater than one chief’s will.”

  Torkr finished the tale and fixed Tragnash with a hard stare.

  “Do you understand the purpose of this tale, Tragnash?”

  Tragnash hesitated.

  “Never become like Gra?Gon?”

  Torkr shook his head.

  “Not just to avoid over?indulgence, like Rocka did — but to embrace true battle, as Mau?Lak did. Did Mau?Lak hesitate with Gra?Gon?”

  Tragnash swallowed.

  “No. Gra?Gon fell in a couple of swings.”

  Torkr leaned in.

  “And what would have happened if Mau?Lak had done as you did?”

  Tragnash fell silent. The realization hit him like a mace to the gut. Torkr saw it — and smirked.

  “Imagine if Mau?Lak had faltered during the Ape?men raid. Imagine if you had faltered during your own accomplishments.”

  He gestured toward the hide of Khargos hanging on the wall.

  “Do you think Khargos the Ancient would have gone down if you had toyed with him the way you toyed with Rocka? Or any of the weaker human tribals? You gave in to hubris — like Gra?Gon.”

  Tragnash lowered his gaze.

  “I… see your point.”

  Torkr straightened, voice turning stern.

  “Then tell me the Eight Orc Tenets.”

  Tragnash rose to his feet, spine stiffening.

  “Orc must prove himself.”

  “Orc must die on his feet, not his knees.”

  “Respect Leader, Master, and Father; lest fight for the right against.”

  “Strength above all else — strength is law.”

  “Training comes first, no matter what.”

  “Never let the weak prevail, at all costs.”

  “Earn your indulgence — do not partake.”

  “Fight well, and always stand your ground.”

  Torkr nodded approvingly at Tragnash’s recitation.

  “I see your point, Father. Forgive my transgression,” Tragnash said, his voice hardened and steady.

  Torkr pushed himself upright.

  “Good. Now get ready — you’ll have another match soon. Watch the next bout between Traken and Vihks. Make sure you rest and eat properly, boy.”

  With that, Tragnash settled in, emboldened by the lesson, while Torkr returned to his post.

  “Next up — the youngest Urgnash son, Traken, versus Vihks of Dreknesh?Yorg!” Fergus announced as the crowd roared back to life, and both Tragnash and Torkr watched closely.