15 years ago, Prince Albert II and Vul'Goth were young, ambitious warriors. Both were part of elite scouting parties tasked with retrieving two ancient weapons in the desert wastelands East of the Evandrian continent. Both weapons were discovered by accident by desert nomads. Once word spread to both the human and orc kingdoms, both sent forces to immediately take them. These weapons could turn the balance of the war; these weapons that could bring forth peace or destruction. Both weapons were of Elvan ancestry and some divine power that none could figure out. Thought to be only legend or lost to time, these weapons were sought after heavily from both humans and orcs.
Both were locked in battle that started from a bloody skirmish. Only these two were left standing after a long and exhausting fight in the unforgiving sun.
Albert had a slender, but strong build. Six feet tall. He had a slim face with a five o’clock shadow. He had short, nearly buzz-cut, black hair. He had piercing green eyes as bright as emeralds. His eyes seemed to show a hint of soft-spoken kindness along with dogged determination. He wore sand-crusted and scarred chain mail armor with the royal red cross in the center of his breastplate along with a jagged line cutting along the center. A red Shemagh was wrapped around his head. He was sun burnt in the cheeks contrasting his natural paleness. He also wore black boots scratched up from the terrain. His grey, padded, undershirt was drenched in sweat and was torn up along his elbows and forearms. His arm braces were lying next to him broken in half from heavy blows. His left forearm had a long gash running diagonal towards his hand. His hands were calloused and bleeding from gripping his sword handle for too long.
Albert wheezed in desperation as he was on his hands and knees struggling to sit up. He was dry heaving painfully. His sword laid next to him covered in blood.
Vul'Goth was a much bigger adversary. Seven feet tall; had a long, stocky, but slim frame with rippling muscles. He was a young orc in comparison to the rest of the dead orc scouts. Not as old or big in comparison to the others for that matter. Most orcs were barrel-chested behemoths in comparison to this orc. He was more height than he was bulk. He had a dark, green complexion with some fresh scars along his arms and face from battle. He had a square-jawline that was broken up by two tusks protruding out from an under-bite. A sleeveless top was worn underneath his damaged breastplate. His dark pants were scratched up and sand crusted. Massive, broken, blood covered shoulder pauldrons laid on the sand next to the orc. Brown, soft-soled moccasins covered the orc’s massive feet. A handful of black, intricate lines were tattooed along the orc’s left arm as if to indicate healing marks from an orc shaman. A coarse, black Mohawk covered his head along with a black headband drenched in sweat. His pointed ears had multiple silver earrings. He had strong, blue eyes that seemed to show a hint of empathy and ferocity at the same time.
Vul'Goth was kneeling down trying to prop himself up with his great axe on his left side. He sneezed out blood from his flat nose as he was trying desperately to breathe slowly. His right shoulder had a fresh scar from a sword breaking through the armor.
Both collapsed from exhaustion after both could not find a way to kill the other. Both of their scouting parties were killed and scattered about in the sand. Albert collapsed in the sand wheezing heavily. He eked out, “Wait... Please… Water! We need water!”
Vul'Goth nodded as he too was desperate for water. Albert rolled onto his back and pulled out a leather canteen from his side pouch and gulped sloppily for a few moments. He looked over at the orc who was struggling to keep his eyes open. He tossed the leather canteen to Vul'Goth and nodded his head. Vul'Goth nodded back, caught the canteen, and gently sipped some water.
Albert laughed, “I guess… This is a tie then? You understand common tongue, yeah?”
“So it seems, human… And yes. I speak and understand common tongue,” Vul'Goth replied in a deep baritone.
Vul'Goth sighed out a laugh as he tossed the canteen back to the Albert. Both tossed the canteen back and forth to each other for a few moments trying to regain their energy.
Vul'Goth wiped the sweat and blood from his cheeks and said, “Maybe next time we fight or meet up, there would be a nice rain to quench our thirst and cool us from this cursed land.”
“I wish… So now what? We keep fighting like the gentlemen that we are or do we just journey onward?”
“We should be a half days journey to the site… Maybe we go see it together… No fight. Just us two looking for the relics.”
“You suggesting we stop fighting and work together?”
“Yes… There is no point in us dying out here like the others,” said Vul'Goth pointing to the dead. “Want to be dead and forgotten in the wasteland?”
“Alright. We go then… But I will strike you down if you turn on me, understand… What shall I call you, orc?”
“Same… I am Vul’Goth son of Worgul The Mighty… Next in line to be War Chieftain of the Black Horde… What I shall I call you, human?”
“Interesting – My name is Albert II son of King Albert I. Trying to become the next in line who is worthy enough.”
“Hmm? Royal on a dangerous journey as this? You lie, eh?”
“No lies… I wanted to go. To prove I’m worthy to succeed. To prove…”
Albert was slowly catching his breath as he sat on his knees wiping the sweat from his face. He continued with conviction, “ To prove I’m not a failure or a mistake to my father.”
“Hmm,” Vul’Goth said to Albert nodding understandably. “I see we are both alike then. I too want to prove my worth. For the horde. For my ancestors… For my… For my father as well.”
There was a hint of sadness in Vul’Goth’s voice that Albert noticed. He then responded jokingly, “Ha! Ain’t that the damn truth… I must say… You are a very skilled warrior. Your father taught you well I assume?”
“Yes he did. Thanks… Same to you swordsman, I assume?”
“Yeah,” Albert said with a smile reminiscing on practicing with a wooden sword against the Royal guards for fun with his father watching and giving pointers. “Alright, let’s journey for a little longer, but after a good rest. Won’t see anything come night. You got any food, Vol?”
Vul’Goth smiled and pulled out two desert cottontail rabbits tied together by the ankles and a flat disc of unleavened bread from a bag strapped to his side along with a tiny bag of mountain salt. Albert smiled back as he stood up to gather sticks and brush for a small fire. Vul’Goth placed his great axe to the side and he grabbed a knife from one of the dead to begin skinning the rabbits. He laid out a roll of deerskin leather he found on one of the dead orc scouts and prepared for skinning.
Albert then asked after dropping a pile of sticks and brush, “Want to separate the dead and give a final goodbye before eating? They deserve something at least.”
“Yeah. That would be best for them.”
They both took turns separating the dead orcs from the dead humans and laying them out in lines as a final goodbye for them.
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Vul’Goth sat next to the dead orc scouts and murmured a prayer as he looked to the sky with pain in his eyes as he gripped a black prayer beads tightly. He was chanting an Orcish prayer.
Albert looked solemnly at the dead human scouts. He sat on his knees deflated. He gripped his necklace of Pelor tightly in his hands as he muttered to himself, “I’m sorry. I will see you later in the next life, brothers. I swear it!”
The sun was setting, the stars were out, and both were enjoying their rabbits. They both took the time to clean and wrap their wounds. Vul’Goth took the time to sew up his right shoulder as Albert took the time to clean and wrap his forearms. Both laughed at each other about their wounds. They both had their armor off as they settled for the night. Albert laid out a wool mat to sleep on with a cloak to use as a blanket. Vul’Goth laid out a bull hide mat with a wool blanket.
Both regaled tales of their father’s exploits and adventures. Both began to talk about the struggle to live up to their fathers. Both also found common ground with the struggle to be leaders.
Vul’Goth looked at the stars and said, “That one star… That bright one in the north. I was told that star is the god of creation looking down on all. We orcs call him Niamh… It means god of light and creation… The other smaller ones are those of my ancestors and of fallen legends looking down … Along with other lesser gods looking down too… I was told that only those who die with honor in battle, or lived an honorable life, earn a place next to Niamh and shine bright into the darkness… For all to remember… I fear… I fear I won’t live up to that. My father’s father and so forth all died honorably in combat. Died to make the horde proud. To secure a future for the next generation… Honor… I fear I won’t be that.”
“So what does honor mean to you then?”
“Hmm?”
“You speak of honor and yet you seem puzzled by it.”
“To die like a warrior for the right reasons. Doing what was right because it was right… I don’t know. Something like that. I don’t know what is right anymore since this war started. I fear that I won’t be a strong leader.”
“Hmm… I too wonder if I can be an honorable and a strong leader like those before me. I also wonder if peace can be made between us… Human and orc I mean.”
“War always happens. It’s nature. Cannot forget thousands of years of blood and tears.”
“All wars end… This war will end eventually… But I suppose you’re right.… What will become of us once we both leave this wasteland and if we find those relics?”
“…”
“Yeah… I think so too,” said Albert quietly as he gazed up at the night sky ponderously. “I think we will cross paths again. If we do, before one of us falls… Let’s have a drink together. What do you say?”
“Childish. Ha… But yes. I would like that very much,” said Vul’Goth staring at the stars. “So what do you believe in?”
“I don’t know,” said Albert in a sadden tone. He finished his rabbit and laid down on his back. He stared at the sky for a few moments with a contemplative look. “I was raised to believe in the gods and be righteous and understanding. To be the next ruler of my lands… With all that knowledge… Yet, I feel as if I only believe in… Believe in just doing the basic, morally right thing. Be understanding to all and be respectful to those who are different… Not a god or gods for that matter. I mostly wonder if I will ever be a good leader and a good man at the same time. To be a just and pragmatic, fair, and overall a good example to others… One who earns respect through his actions. One who is respected by all. Like my dad… I don’t know. Some childish bull shit like that.”
“Don’t we all,” said Vul’Goth with a slight smirk and understanding nod. He titled his head over towards Albert. “I don’t know either.”
“Yeah.”
“You fear being king then, yes?”
“I suppose… Like you mentioned before… I fear I won’t live up to my father and my father’s standards… And those before.”
“Hmm,” said Vul’Goth with an inquisitive grunt.
He looked back up into the night sky as the fire slowly swayed. His eyes welled up as he thought of his father and how many orcs have died under his command. He remembered seeing his father’s broken face after every battle as he was told of the dead. He remembered how his father would take time to weep silently for bit as he sat alone reading off the names of the dead orcs whenever he got home.
He said in a slightly broken tone, “You wonder if this war would last long after us?”
“I want to say no, but I know deep down it will… How many years has it been? Nearly a thousand? All those kings and politicians saying that they will end this war keep passing it on to their sons and so forth… It won’t end in this lifetime or the next.”
“Everything ends… Didn’t you say that before?”
“Yeah I did and I know. This is… This is just the doubt, you know? Just doubt,” said Albert in a hurried voice.
Vul’Goth smiled and replied, “Shame… Shame we can’t all be civil.”
Albert kept looking up at the stars with a broken and ponderous look. Albert remembered a time when he saw his dad show compassion and mercy to orc families after a raid on an orc city. His father wanted to show the then teenaged prince a lesson in showing kindness and compassion because one must understand that some did not ask to be involved in a war to wipe out the other.
Vul’Goth turned his head towards Albert and asked rather meekly, “I wonder… If we are not enemies, then what are we then?”
“I guess we’re friends now?”
“Yeah, friends… Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good night Alby.”
“Goodnight Vol.”
The next morning, the two journeyed towards the hills and came upon a cavern with ancient runes adorning the top. Elvish runes mixed with another dead language. Neither could decipher what the runes meant. However, both felt like the runes gave warning to those who entered. As they entered into the dark cavern, dried up skeletons of those before them laid about the grounds and walls. Human, elf, and orc skeletons strewn the place. Looked as if the humans, elves, and orcs were fighting each other or were killed by something else. Both Albert and Vul’Goth noticed claw marks along some of the walls. Both grew weary of what could be near.
Both of them found themselves in an open area lit by the sun. There stood two tall statues facing each other. One statue was that of an Elvan knight in royal armor holding a long sword that had a hint of blue light coming forth from the handle. The sword was ornately designed with a sleek finish. Strangely, the sword had no hand guard. The other statue was that of a half-orc mage in robes wielding a long, massive, black mace glowing red-orange from the tip of it. The mace was a dark grey, steel that also ornately designed, but in a more brutalist fashion.
It was rather strange where these two statues were. In the cavern, at the base of a rock formation were the bodies of fallen humans, elves, and orcs. Debris and ruin scarred the cavern and the structures around the statures. Yet somehow, the area that the two statues were in were clean of any debris, signs of death, or being weathered by time and the elements. It was as if the two statues were forever encapsulated in time with nary an imperfection to be found.
Both Albert and Vul’Goth walked carefully into the opening as they checked for traps. They both spent a long time walking around the edge of the opening looking for any signs of danger.
Nothing happened and both were slightly disappointed by this fact.
They walked in between the statues. Albert was drawn to the sword. Vul’Goth was drawn to the massive scepter. Both the sword and the scepter had names carved into the handles.
The blade was etched and read in Elvish: Light Wielder.
The mace read in Orcish: Earth Breaker.
Both Albert and Vul’Goth picked up the weapons and inspected them with nervous curiosity. Both the weapons were perfectly balanced and weighted. Both felt like they weighed nothing at all in their hands.
Albert smiled at Vul’Goth, but then a slow sadness dissipated his smile. Vul’Goth grinned, but then the same sadness dissipated his. Both realized that their journey was over. Both also realized that they would become enemies as soon as they got out of the desert wastelands. Both looked at each other with sad and disappointed eyes.
A loud, guttural screech ringed out along with the sound of multiple thuds running towards them like a stampede. Both warriors held up the ancient weapons as they glowed brightly in the opening.
"You ready, Vol?"
"Of fucking course, Alby. Let's go!"
